Maybe what happens at Lost Weekend should stay at Lost Weekend. Maybe not everything has to be documented, and perhaps there's something to the "you just had to be there" quip. I'll tell you what, I'll compromise by making my write-up brief – just enough to jog the clouded memories of those who were there, but not enough to resurface any regret. Those who weren't there? Well, you know how the saying goes.

Lost Weekend is a fest because someone said so and that's good enough. There have been three. Each has just been a couple of nights where a lot of bands were booked, each linked by a belief in the power of rock & roll and a conviction that pop hooks should be used for the greater good. I only made it to the second night of this year's edition because I'm not a professional dirtbag – I just play one on the Internet.

The first of six bands went on at 8:45. Drastic Plastic is a Lawrence, Kansas five-piece consisting of several Jacks from Jackoffs and some faces I only half recognized. The keys (Jack Bryan) sounded like a freaking calliope that crashed to the ground. Dude in an Exodus shirt (Eli Mardis) ripped blistering solos. Jack Lague's bass was intense. Maybe he's the best bassist in the bi-state region? The drummer (Guthrie Bricker) hit the snare so hard he broke it. Jack Goodrich sang and played guitar and delivered the banter that made me smile. Some of the set was terrifying punk rock. Neither egg nor chain but a secret third thing. One song was a power pop gem. That is, if a song can have three guitar solos and still qualify as power pop.

The second of six bands went on at 9:25. Greg Wheeler & the Poly Mall Cops is a Des Moines, Iowa trio built around Wheeler's vocals and guitar, the bass and sass of Jill McLain, and the drums and tattoos of Eric Hutchison. I've seen them before. This time was louder and faster. McLain's bass was extra loud. Extra skuzzy. The threesome makes simple garage rock played with a punk edge and enough melody to make every song stick. The thirty-five-minute set included 463 short songs, but McLain still wanted to go faster. Hutchison wanted to catch his breath. Wheeler wanted everyone to know that the band's new album will be out soon on High Dive Records. Now you know.

The third of six bands went on at 10:20. Flesh Panthers are a Chicago, Illinois foursome that want it made clear that they're a rock band – not some sissy indie band. However, they don't want you to know their names. Ryan "Zombotron" sang and played guitar. He wore a peacoat on stage and I'd bet he owns a Lambretta that hasn’t run in years. He didn't like the small stage, the bad sound, or the microphone that wouldn’t stay put. Hey, it's punk rock, baby. Strong leads came from "Skilly Deans." The rhythm section of "Momo" and "Sam" made the tunes jump. Thin Lizzy? The Jam? Who knows. There's a new album and the songs on it are good. And I hear that on the LP, the stage is big, the sound is great, and the microphone stands are new, so it's definitely worth picking up.

The fourth of six bands went on at 11:10. The Whiffs is a Kansas City, Missouri quartet that play Hillsiders every month. Several members also work there. The act's set is mostly new material now, with only a couple of tracks pulled from its back catalog. A few songs are brand new. The one where lead guitarist Kyle Gowdy sings is still rough. I think it's called "Knock Out." The harmonies were rough, but bassist Zach Campbell didn’t seem concerned. It's only rock & roll. Another brand new one (it's called something like "Mystery") is a gem with simple drums from Jake Cardwell. The 12-string and vocals of Rory Cameron sounded good. "On the Boulevard" had just the right amount of breaking vocal chaos. Closer "Give Me Some Time" has been kicking around for years but never sounded better than it did that night.

The fifth of six bands went on at 12-something. I lost track by that point. The Slow Death are a Minneapolis, Minnesota four-piece that were "I love everyone in this bar" drunk. The project is led by Jesse Thorson's gruff vocals and bass chords. Beside him this tour was star-spangled guitarist Luke Lechler and drummer Jack Gribble – both of whom offered backing vocals. Every song was an anthem. Every song was bombastic. Stiff Little Fingers all the way. Well, at least until a bit of Tom Petty crept in. I didn't know it at the time, but the band's album features keys and definitely leans into that heartland rock. But for this performance, the trio was pedal to the metal. Well, to the rock anyway.

The sixth band of six went on sometime after my eyes were too blurry to see the digits on my phone. Chinese Telephones is a Milwaukee, Wisconsin four-piece that wedges itself between power pop and pop-punk. Justin Telephone (if that is indeed his real name) sings and plays a Rickenbacker guitar. Daniel James strangled his guitar, wringing out leads and solos. Andy Jungwirth played bass and gave lots of backing vocals. You've never seen a drunken shirtless man more agile with his instrument. Drummer Logan Stang kept the band fast. Very fast. Somewhere on the other side of 1:30, the guys tried to end their eleven-song set, but the audience (now small but loud and feeling no pain) demanded another. The foursome then kicked out a song I'll call "When You Don't Fit In."

And the rest? Some things are best left unsaid.