It is the nature of events like the Hopscotch Music Festival to either grow to oversized proportions, or wither and die. If Hopscotch's organizers could somehow bottle it and keep the festival right at this year's size indefinitely, that would be a very fine thing because it's really been perfect so far. The clubs have been crowded, but mostly not too crowded, with a great energy at shows around town and out on the street. Hopscotch has brought together a wonderful sense of critical mass -- the feeling that there's not only a lot of people on the town to hear music, but the right people. Bumping into folks I've not seen for a while has been half the fun.

My Hopscotch Friday began with a panel discussion on Simple Words: The Power of Narrative Songs. If you go to that link, you'll see that there were some heavy folks on that panel. So I mostly stayed quiet; said a few things here and there, but I mostly enjoyed having a seat next to Patterson Hood and listening to him hold forth. Everyone had great things to say, even though Stuart McLamb and Heather McEntire took some coaxing. I especially enjoyed hearing John Vanderslice (who has rocketed to a spot near the top of my personal singer-songwriter pantheon, between this panel and his terrific show later Friday night); and it was a special treat to hear a few songs by James Jackson Toth of Wooden Wand; I left there humming "The DNR Waltz."

Hopscotch could not have asked for more perfect weather, and it was a great scene out on City Plaza Friday evening with Drive-By Truckers and Guided By Voices. The Truckers were their usual magnificent behemoth of gothic rock grandeur, with an unusual aspect: This was the first time I've ever seen Patterson Hood onstage without a guitar in his hands. He recently took a fall and cut his left hand, which required 15 stitches. So he began the set standing at the microphone singing "The Fourth Night of My Drinking," playing air guitar. Trooper that he is, however, Hood called for a guitar after that song and gamely soldiered on.

Friday night was billed as the last-ever Guided By Voices show, which no one seems to believe. Let's just say they've said goodbye before. Superchunk drummer Jon Wurster came onstage to introduce the band, declaring that he would eat a fish sandwich for every beer the band drank onstage (it would have been a few) and noting that because this was a festival show, it would be a short set of "only" 71 songs. They actually blazed through 29 songs in a bit more than an hour, and it was ragged boozy fun. Somehow I doubt we've seen the last of them.

Then it was on to a night of club-hopping between the Berkeley Cafe (the aforementioned Vanderslice), Fletcher Opera Hall (the world's loudest, oddest, skronkiest recital with Swans) and Lincoln Theatre (Foreign Exchange with your ubur-cool host, Phonte Coleman). I was up way too late and awoke way too early; but it looks like another perfect day brewing out there, with daytime music and Flaming Lips/Superchunk tonight. I'll see you out there.

This weekend is the second annual Hopscotch Music Festival, with tons of shows all over downtown Raleigh -- including Drive-By Truckers tonight with Guided By Voices, a show previewed here. Truckers guitarist Patterson Hood will also be on a panel discussion called Simple Words: The Power of Narrative Songs, happening from 3 to 5 p.m. today at the Raleigh City Museum and featuring a number of other folks (including me, though I plan to listen a lot more than I talk). Come on by.

Meantime, night one of Hopscotch was mighty fine, with big crowds and fine performances all over. I mostly just drifted around the downtown district popping into clubs to sample the festival's lineup a few songs at a time. I managed to see eight bands over the course of the evening, ranging from fantastic (our hometown heroes The Love Language) to super-fun (Brooklyn's Dinosaur Feathers) to super-baffling (New York's Cold Cave, who appeared to be bucking for a guest spot on "Sprockets"). Here's the night-one photo gallery.

Two more nights of rock beckon, although you'll need a wristband to club-hop and those sold out long ago. Also sold-out are advance tickets for Saturday's Flaming Lips show at City Plaza, but there should be some walk-up tickets available at the gate. And if you don't have either of those, your best bet might be to partake of the various day parties -- which have the added advantage of being free.

I'll see you around and about.

You have to give avant-country singer Jim White credit: He ain't afraid to cop to his pleasures, guilty and otherwise. So it is that the most recent entry on White's excellent blog is an essay in which he confesses his long-ago love for the music of...Dan Fogelberg?

"Hey, you can't be real snobby," White said in a recent interview. "We all have to admit where we came from. So rather than duck it, own up to it and say, 'Yeah, I fell for that and there's good in it.' His first album had some gorgeous songs, even though it all went horribly wrong somewhere along the way. Patterson Hood and I were talking about Chicago recently, how they really were a great band until they put pretty boy Peter Cetera up there with the ballads. Same kinda thing. Some record-company guy wanted to make Dan Fogelberg America's new Fabio. And they did. I guess he just went with it."

For lots more, plus details on White's Triangle show, see the preview in Friday's paper.