So-So to Spicy Sets at Sunset Junction

As the summer sun beat down, denizens of Silver Lake and beyond gathered Saturday for the 18th annual Sunset Junction Street Fair, a two-day festival that generally lures some of the weirdest and wildest music acts around. On the first day of the weekend event, the most obvious theme was sheer variety: from radical Latino rap group Aztlan Underground to blues mama Mickey Champion, from punk vixen Texas Terri to jazz-pop crooner Phoebe Snow.

As usual, the bands had to compete for attention with their own crowds, a motley crew of purple-haired punks, toddlers waving fluorescent sparklers and guys in chains and leather short-shorts.

You can always rely on the fair to provide great people-gawking, but there were some disappointing changes this year: Instead of a suggested donation, there was a mandatory cover fee of $3, which goes to Sunset Junction’s Youth at Risk program. A good cause, but the charge sapped some of the Junction’s typical block-party feel. Also, the edgier Bates Stage, previously sponsored by the now-defunct Hully-Gully Studios, was marred by too many no-shows and reschedulings, with a favorite neighborhood-based act, the Negro Problem, replaced by the forgettable bar band Bif.

Despite the glitches, tried-and-true veterans worked their magic. One of those vets was septuagenarian blues singer Mickey Champion, an expert at wooing a throng. The singer has a habit of dropping the microphone to impress the audience with her ability to belt out a sultry exclamation, and likes to waltz off the stage and into the crowd. Backed by a crackerjack band, wearing a summer hat and sandals, the tiny Champion wrung a sort of twisted, bittersweet joy out of love and heartache.

The streets had cooled by the time the next highlight hit the stage: Ska-punk band Tijuana No delivered a frothy, stormy set that teetered precariously on the edge of performance art. The Mexican band’s show was worth the wait, but was marred by a dying generator that caused repeated, frustrating power losses.

But the band outshouted the snags by playing a mix of traditional flutes and howling electric guitars, rapping and singing in Spanish, hauling fans and L.A. Latino rapper Kid Frost onstage, and working through political protest songs and a fiery version of the Clash’s “Spanish Bombs.”

The group punched out a set that brought the rough edges and spontaneity back to this changing street fair.