Back Cove Afterglow

How a brand-new music festival pulled off something rare in Portland: joy, scale, and soul.

The air at Payson Park had that thick August weight. Sun on your shoulders. Dust in your shoes. Bass in your chest. But somehow, Back Cove Festival didn’t feel overwhelming. It felt like a big exhale. Like Portland finally let itself have some fun.

For a first-time event, it ran surprisingly smooth. No parking horror stories. No endless lines. No chaos. Just back-to-back sets from artists like Jack White, The Roots, The Oshima Brothers, and Lord Huron, with the Back Cove glittering behind the stages like a postcard. You could bring a blanket, drink a $17.50 beer, and still catch national acts while bumping into your neighbor from yoga. The city felt small and big at the same time.

One of the smartest moves? Free public water. Hydration stations set up across the park like someone actually thought about what it feels like to be in the crowd, not just run the show.

The vendor row was stacked. Local food trucks, makers, and small brands got space and foot traffic most of them only dream about. One business owner told me it was a game changer, and it showed. These kinds of weekends mean rent gets paid. They ripple way beyond the weekend crowd or Instagram story.

Even the neighborhoods around Payson Park had every reason to brace for noise, trash, and gridlock, but most came away impressed. Traffic flowed smoother than anyone guessed. Some neighbors were even listening from their front porches. Portland felt like a city that knew how to throw a party and clean up after it.

Then there was the local rumor mill. Everyone had a take on the drink prices. I half expected someone to say a secret society was hiding bottles under the field to beat the system. That’s the kind of lore Portland invents when a beer starts to sound like a mortgage payment.

Image @backcovefestival

It wasn’t perfect. Some folks wanted more local acts on the main stage. A few side-eyed the beer list. There was also a weird open space between the Baxter Stage and the crowd. At one point Lord Huron joked that once the photographers cleared out, people were going to start jousting. But the vibe was undeniable. Families with toddlers, college kids, tourists, musicians, artists, food lovers. Everyone just kind of vibed under the same sun.

This didn’t feel like a one-off. It felt like the start of something. A new summer ritual. A reason to stay in town. The kind of weekend you circle on the calendar next year and say, yeah, we’re doing that again.

Mystery Link! 🎧 Hear My Favorite Maine Artist from Back Cove

🎶 What Makes or Breaks a Festival in Portland?

If you could change one thing for next year…

Dog Bar Jim, I Owe You an Apology

A hidden gem for the best breakfast sandwich and espresso.

Alright, I’ll admit it. I messed up.

When I went out looking for the best breakfast sandwiches, I somehow skipped right over one of the best. Dog Bar Jim didn’t make the list. Not because it wasn’t worthy, but because I just hadn’t been yet. And that was a massive oversight. So to everyone who messaged, commented, and pulled me aside to say, “You need to go to Dog Bar Jim”, thank you. You were absolutely right.

I finally made it in, and now I can’t stop thinking about that sandwich. Runny egg, Calabrian chili spread, a perfectly thin crispy hashbrown. It was unreal. Somehow both comforting and completely new. Like it understood exactly what I needed before I even ordered.

And the coconut condensed milk espresso? I don’t even like sweet drinks and I’d order that again in a heartbeat. Dangerous.

The space is small, scrappy, and completely alive. Handwritten specials taped up wherever they’ll stick. A register that never gets a break. The receipt tape unspools off the counter and curls onto the floor like, doing laps. It’s not chaos. It’s proof. They’re slammed because it’s that good. Because people keep coming back.

Then there’s Ben. The owner, barista, kitchen, front of house, all of it. He’s like the older brother who roasts you the second you walk in but still makes sure you’re fed and caffeinated and happy. The kind of person that makes a place feel like it’s yours. Dog Bar Jim feels like a real-deal local coffee shop. The kind that still knows your name.

I thought about not writing this. Selfishly. There’s a part of me that wanted to keep it to myself. But that’s not fair. You’re the people this place is for. The regulars. The ones who get it.

So yeah. Dog Bar Jim. Add it to your list if it’s not there already.

Just don’t all go at once.

Updated Breakfast Sandwich List