Step inside the single-family home, and the source of the noise becomes clear: Black Alley is in the midst of a two-hour rehearsal, finalizing the songs they will perform live in the NBC Washington studios this week: "Artist's Prayer" and "Bad Girl."

The practice space is artistic enough—a pile of CDs sit on a dusty flat surface, and the brown-paneled walls celebrate musical pioneers: Aretha Franklin, Eddie Kendricks, and Quincy Jones, among others. A white dry-erase board outlines the band's immediate plans. There's the setlist for an upcoming gig and the working tracklist for the group's upcoming album, Soul Swagger Rock Sneakers, which doesn't have a release date (Kacey Williams, the band's vocalist, says the album is definitely in its finishing stages).

In tall green letters, that same erase board brings to light what is arguably Black Alley's biggest gig ever: "MERRIWEATHER POST PAVILION!!!"

This Saturday, the seven-piece band will open this year's HFStival at the pavilion, a daylong concert featuring 20 acts, including Diane Birch, Gin Blossoms, and Minus the Bear. Black Alley earned the opportunity to perform this weekend after winning the California Tortilla Battle to Break Out competition at the 9:30 Club last month. (Just for perspective, Good Charlotte once won the Break Out competition.)

During this week's rehearsal, the band runs through a series of high-energy tracks. "Virgin Suicide," with a seductive poem at the song's onset, is methodical until it builds into a full-scale rock track. The aforementioned "Bad Girl" is hard and aggressive, a seemingly perfect song for this weekend's performance. Then there's "Used," a song for anyone who's been cheated on and lied to, Kacey says.

Still, when Black Alley opens the festival, they are likely to see a different crowd than they are used to playing. They recently performed for Chuck Brown's 75th birthday and work every Friday as the in-house band at the Indulj jazz club. With the HFStival, however, the other bands vacillate between breezy alt-rock and punk, and Black Alley's music is rooted in soul.

"We're different from what the festival is used to," Kacey says. "But we don't fit into any type of box. It will be something new and I think people will be blown away."

The band plans to end Saturday's show with a rendition of Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit." Look out for Animal's drum solo. And the possible encore. Word to Nicki Minaj.

Merriweather Post Pavilion is located at 10475 Little Patuxent Parkway, Columbia, MD. Doors at 10 a.m. Tickets are $35-$50.

Still, if you'd asked in a pinch, this writer would have chosen 22-year-old Los Angeleno Kris Bowers, who displayed just the right combination of chops, taste, discipline, and flash (and a pretty fair grasp of Monkisms on "Blue Monk"). He'd done the same at the previous day's semifinals, and thrown in astonishing blues licks to boot. In the final, however, he one-upped himself, contributing the competition's only genuinely moving performance in his sensitive reading of "The Summer Knows."

The judges (pianists Herbie Hancock, Ellis Marsalis, Jason Moran, Danilo Perez, and Renee Rosnes) apparently agreed. Bowers, currently a Masters of Music student at Juilliard, won the world's most prestigious jazz competition last night, and along with it a $25,000 scholarship and a recording contract with Concord Music Group.

Joshua White, from El Cajon, Calif., took second place honors, and University of Miami student Emmet Cohen came in third. This was a bit of a surprise: White, whom NYT's Ben Ratliff accurately describes as "one of the competition’s most memorable musicians," had performed his two songs in layers of knotty chords and suddenly broke free in the midst of the first. It was a risky move—and it clearly cost him when the competition's house drummer, Carl Allen, got lost. This writer was expecting White to take third as a result; likely, though, the judges were impressed with his chance-taking, a vital component of any jazz musician worth his salt. Cohen, however, did quite well, even if his playing was comparatively safe.

Oh, yeah. It was also the Monk Competition's 25th anniversary, giving rise to a mammoth concert celebration with a tremendous cast of jazz stars. Included was a duet performance with Hancock and soprano saxophonist Wayne Shorter (who was not having a good night—"So sharp he was flat," said one observer); a Chaka Khan-led funk version of "A Night in Tunisia"; a magnificent ensemble performance of Shorter's "Footprints" with the great Gretchen Parlato on vocal; a medley of Monk tunes; and, as the centerpiece, a tribute to Aretha Franklin sung by Khan, Dianne Reeves, Dee Dee Bridgewater, Kurt Elling, Jane Monheit, and Jennifer Hudson. Franklin herself followed with a radiant performance of the jazz standard "Moody's Mood for Love." All of which was excellent, but it was the stars of tomorrow who made the evening.

Two things to remember:

(1) Singing is perhaps the most subjectively appreciated aspect of music (perhaps the most subjectively appreciated art).
(2) Singers hear things in other singers that you and I don't.

That's certainly the reasoning this writer fell back on, having guessed (and had that guess reaffirmed by an informal survey of acquaintances in the audience) that Brooklyn's Charenee Wade would win the 2010 Thelonious Monk International Vocal Competition, with her firm control and the subtle maturity of her delivery. It was a surprise indeed when the winner was Cecile McLorin Salvant, 21, a French-Haitian-American from Miami — who will now reap the benefits of a $20,000 scholarship and a recording contract with Concord Music Group.

Plus the small additional prize of singing "Blue Skies" onstage at the Kennedy Center's Eisenhower Theater alongside judges Dianne Reeves, Patti Austin, Al Jarreau, Kurt Elling, and Dee Dee Bridgewater, plus special guests Jane Monheit, Ledisi, and Gladys Knight.

Wade received second place honors (a scholarship worth $10,000), with French vocalist Cyrille Amie ($5,000) taking third.

The competition began Sunday with the semifinals, held at the National Museum of the American Indian's Rasmuson Theater. Twelve international vocalists were required to play a program of three tunes each (one by Thelonious Monk, the founder of our feast), with the backing of pianist Reggie Thomas*, bassist Rodney Whittaker, and drummer Carl Allen. There were no local semifinalists this year (unlike 2009, when both eventual winner Ben Williams and semifinalist Corcoran Holt were DC natives). Tonight's finals called for each of the three finalists to sing an additional two songs.

Notably, announced judge and gala performer Aretha Franklin was absent after her son sustained critical injuries in an assault last month. The judges' panel made do without her, while the audience had to settle for an appearance by Gladys Knight (darn).

To these ears, McLorin was extremely gifted and technically skilled, and easily the best scatter of the bunch. On the other hand, she had an edge in her voice of melodrama and a little bit of an overreliance on Billie Holiday's vocal mannerisms. I thought she'd make an excellent second-place winner. Of course, these ears aren't qualified to stand in for Elling's, Reeves', Bridgewater's, Jarreau's, and/or Austin's.

But if Aretha was here, she'd have agreed with me.

*The five of you who followed my live tweets of the semifinals on Sunday may have noticed that I credited piano to Geoffrey Keezer, last year's pianist. My bad.

Sunday, Oct. 3
One of the things that sets jazz apart as a musical form is that you can't simply give the talented stars an unassuming accompaniment that will stay out of their way and not make waves. The greats need to play with other greats, to humble, challenge, and inspire each other. Think Louis Armstrong and Bessie Smith, Count Basie and Lester Young, Bird and Diz, Miles and Coltrane. Perhaps we're not seeing a combination quite on THAT level, but putting the breathtaking vocalist Gretchen Parlato and enfant terrible bassist Esperanza Spalding onstage together is certainly a spectacle unto itself. The two would top any list of rising jazz stars under 35; Spalding is a bass prodigy, the youngest teacher in the history of the Berklee College of Music and an attention-grabber in mainstream music as well as jazz; Parlato doesn't get quite the hoopla, but is every bit as accomplished and perhaps even more of a virtuoso on her built-in instrument. (Spalding, by the way, is a singer too, one with an awful lot of radiance to match Parlato's subtlety.) What will happen when we put them together? God knows, but it'll be amazing to behold. Spalding and Parlato perform at 7 p.m. at the Lincoln Theatre, 1215 U St. NW. $35 – 85.

Monday, Oct. 4
The major event of the week, as it happens, is also one of the major jazz events of the year: the annual Thelonious Monk International Jazz Competition. The world's most prestigious jazz musicians' competition this year spotlights the voice. Gretchen Parlato, mentioned above? She's a Monk Vocal Competition winner. So is Tierney Sutton. Jane Monheit is a past runner-up. In short, the Monk is a career launchpad like no other, and (with a few recent exceptions) it happens right here in our fair city, so you can watch an artist being made. And, oh, by the way, the final round will also incorporate a concert paying tribute to the Great American Songbook, with performances by the competition's judges: Patti Austin, Dee Dee Bridgewater, Kurt Elling, Al Jarreau, Dianne Reeves...and this other woman you might have heard of. Aretha something. Finkel or something like that. The Thelonious Monk International Jazz Vocals Competition & Celebration of The Great American Songbook takes place at 7:30 p.m. at the Kennedy Center's Eisenhower Theater, 2700 F St. NW. $35-75.

Tuesday, Oct. 5
We at Setlist have no wish to pass judgment on anyone, but if Anat Fort doesn't move you then something's the matter with you. The Tel Aviv native plays in the post-Keith Jarrett lineage of freeform piano, lyricism with delicate, almost whispered notes that blend and overlap like pieces of colored glass, into heretofore unknown shades of sound and color. That's just one layer, though. Fort can also adopt a more declarative touch, climbing spryly up the chords with a gentle but sure sense of swing, and a classical model of phrasing that has more in common with Mozart. In any configuration, though, Fort's piano notes strike deep, combining jazz tonality with a unique sense of melody and chord voicing that radiates color and beauty—and profound emotion. The evidence is available on Fort's exquisite new trio CD And If (ECM), with bassist Gary Wang and drummer Roland Schneider, as well as on the bandstand. The Anat Fort Trio performs at 8 and 10 p.m. at Blues Alley, 1073 Wisconsin Ave. NW. $25.

Simon & Garfunkel, the Allman Brothers Band, Pearl Jam, and Better than Ezra will also be playing. For the record: We do not consider these performances to be highlights.

Advance tickets are still available for a totally reasonable $45. It happens April 23-25 and April 29-May 2.

Mutek 2010: Sometime in the near future, we hope that we can make it back to Montreal. (This time, sans rain. Thanks.) We can see no better excuse for a trip than the 2010 edition of the Mutek festival—“one of the premier showcases for cutting edge electronic music and digital creativity,” according to the Web page. This year’s performers include Matmos, Mouse on Mars, Theo Parrish, and Tim Hecker. A weekend (June 4-6) pass’ll run ya $141.09. A passport—which’ll get you in to events that start on June 2, costs about $220.

ATP New York 2010: We here at Festival Watch wouldn’t throw a curatorial appointment to one of the All Tomorrow’s Parties out of bed. Hmmm…right now, we’d do Bjork, ESG, J.D. Emmanuel, Daniel Higgs, Pocahaunted, anything involving an Ex guitar player, and Beyonce. This is prolly why we wouldn’t get one. Sigh.

Instead, New York-bound ATPers will have to settle for Jim Jarmusch. His line-up include Raekwon, Girls, Dungen, Vivian Girls, and, just announced: some crazy Sunn0))) and Boris collaboration. Intense!

That’s Sunday. Saturday’s show will be a revue of “past ATP curators, ATP Recordings artists and friends”—these include Sonic Youth, the Breeders, Tortoise, the Books, and Bardo Pond—and Friday will bring nostalgic album performances from the likes of Iggy and the Stooges and Mudhoney.

ATP says that you can look forward to more artist announcements in the coming days. We’re already pretty much sold. Tickets are still available but we’d suggest you consult the ATP site for details; there are few different travel packs. It happens Sept. 3-5.

A belated answer key to our Rolling Stone: Parse that Platitude contest!

• There is a difference between people who sing and those who take that voice to another, otherworldly place, who create a euphoria within themselves. PLATITUDE REFERS TO: Elvis Presley
  
• You know a force from heaven. You know something that God made. And [blank] is a gift from God. PLATITUDE REFERS TO: Aretha Franklin
  
• There’s a lot going on in [blank]’s voice. A lot of pain, a lot of life but, most of all, a lot of strength. PLATITUDE REFERS TO: Etta James
  
• [Blank]’s unhinged aggression presaged punk rock. PLATITUDE REFERS TO: Jim Morrison
  
• I can’t compare [blank]’s voice to anything — [blank] had such an unusual breadth of influences, from Sonic Youth to Edith Piaf. PLATITUDE REFERS TO: Jeff Buckley
  

Commenter "Elisabetta" wins for accuracy, with a 20% accuracy rate. Commenter "Dean Steve" wins for most original entry, with an 80% humor rate.

Winners entitled to free copy of City Paper, redeemable at any of our many distribution hubs across the greater D.C. metro area.

I nodded at the child strapped to his back. "You folks are in good company, then. The Beautiful People are out in full force tonight."

"That's what they tell me." The child had begun pawing at the man's baseball cap. "Say, I've been wondering: is it true that Pamela Anderson gave hep C to Phil?"

"Sounds like a dirty rumor."

"I can believe it," he shrugged. "They both live in Cali...."

I encountered Mr. Unassailable Logic an hour later at the stage-left lawn entrance, where he was shaking down the tie-dye crowd for coke.

"Come on, you guys gotta hook me up," he told successive barefoot gaggles. "Hey—yayo? Yip? Anybody?"

"You gotta quit that stuff, man," ventured a well-wisher.

"Hell, I'm not even looking to party—but I gotta drive back to Pennsylvania tonight and I've got work tomorrow. I just wanna travel safe, you know?"

Well shucks, Mr. Logic, I can't say that I do. But then again, I only came for the music.

The bands, of course, did not disappoint. (At these events, most people know exactly what they're paying for...and if somehow they don't get it, the fault is not in the stars.) Phil Lesh & Friends played a marvelous set of Grateful Dead gems, standouts including expansive takes of "Eyes of the World" and "Cassidy" and a jabbingly glorious "The Other One." Larry Campbell, the greatest contemporary sideman-for-hire not currently playing for the Allmans, led a phenomenal guitar attack, paying deference to Garcia while sharpening the blues licks—his interplay with Barry Sless on pedal steel was a definite highlight, as were the rhythmic contributions of Jackie Greene. Greene's fluency as lead singer was also a treat, especially for those of us who worried Phil's voice wouldn't be up to snuff (it was, though not on par with the tyke's). "Sugaree," the encore, was Greene's finest vocal moment: bluesy, exalted, dead-on.

The concert also offered a glimpse of one particular tangle in the genealogy of jam—a tangle named Warren Haynes. Campbell is a third-generation stand-in for Haynes, who performed frequently with Lesh after an estimable stint as lead guitarist for the Dead (a Jerry-less regrouping of the surviving original members), and whose own band, Gov't Mule, is an offshoot of the 90s Allman revival.

Revival—duh—is the name of the game at these concerts, and if Lesh & co. channeled Jerry, the Allmans played hot enough to wake the dead (or, you know, the garrulous wrinkled couple dancing next to you). Haynes and Derek (nephew of Butch) Trucks light up this band—if there's a better two-guitar front on the planet these days, I haven't heard 'em. Trucks, a slide mastermind, can elicit drunken moans, angelic sighs, and metallic thunder from his Gibson, all with a nearly passive equanimity. Absentminded, like a man tying his shoes.

Haynes, meanwhile, manages to balance dizzying above-the-fretboard slidework with a bellowing presence at the microphone. On "The Weight"—which resurrects the Aretha/Duane collaboration as much as it does The Band's original—Haynes proves himself one of our finest white soul singers. And his manipulation of the wah pedal during a "Dazed & Confused" digression (placed immaculately before the dénouement of "Mountain Jam") constitutes a three-minute aria.

And then there's Gregg Allman, whose voice has only gotten better in the last ten years (cf. Monday's rendition of "Dreams"), and who now looks something like St. Nicholas.

The encore, "One Way Out," kept the crowd shrieking for more and rendered powerless the hitherto draconian Merriweather dance police. The Allmans weren't losing steam and probably could have played all night. But why push their luck? The band's already on its third wind.