(Today, photog/writer AJ Dent wraps up her delightful coverage of Seattle's punk party of the year, Pizza Fest! Be sure to check out Day One and Day Two, too! THANK YOU so much, AJ!)

It wasn’t long before madness took over Pizza Fest’s final night. I rolled in as Freak Vibe was setting up for their grody, punky, manic episode. With shockwave vocal twists, trudging riffs, and sweat everywhere, they felt like the audible equivalent of sickly-gratifying actions. Like throwing a couch into a bonfire and chasing cheap whiskey with two-day-old black coffee. The band consists of members of Nudes and Sioux City Pete and the Beggars, creating this cauldron of steaming, irresistible stew. Perfect for all of us ravenous weirdos.

Pony Time epitomize the Pacific Northwest rock duo phenomenon. Two people thrashing it all out on stage so hard -- and so sharply synced up -- you don’t believe your eyes for the first couple songs. Drummer Stacy Peck and bassist and vocalist Luke Beetham are staples of Seattle’s music scene, dishing out their gritty melodies at every turn. The Highline’s stage may have looked mostly empty, but the venue shuddered with bodacious beats and a borderline-rabid audience.

San Francisco’s Birth Defects will make you stop mid-drink-order to turn and marvel. I bet that the long line of people outside hoping to pack in to the Highline could tell a mosh pit had roared to life, (dudes’) shirts were coming off, and maniacal music was utterly ruling the land. These guys make it look easy to grind out curb-stompers like “Party Suicide”. Raw, rapid hard rock as it’s meant to be.

MUSK, an Oakland-based band, carried on the ride-or-die wave. I got chucked around inside the torrent of grizzly vocals, fuzzy guitar freakouts, and drumming that could make the devil drool. They live up to their name with sucker-punch power and some sort of stenchy voodoo sounds. Listen to these four as a slightly-healthier alternative to arson.

What do you even want to hear about Tacocat’s set? You and I both know it was fucking flawless, whether you were there or not. The candy-lauding, blood-surfing foursome were in top form, hot off of opening for Haim at the Paramount the night before. They donned oversized sleeping shirts and sky-rocketed through their set to a very, very sold-out Highline. With all the smash-dancing the crowd around me and I did, my knees are still brutally bruised. Success! From “Oscar” to “UTI”, they kicked the hits into our heads so hard, we were all still dizzy and grinning come the pizza-eating competition.

Now, there may have been foul play during this feeding frenzy. Some people had water to soften the crusts, others threw chunks into the crowd, and I have no idea if a single person was actually counting the disappearing slices. But that didn’t stop everyone from cheering, jeering, and being jealous of the participants (up until the final, overstuffed minutes, at least). I don’t know the name of the guy who won, but I’m certain the night was the best of his life. Until his next trip to the bathroom.

I’m still exuberant that The Coathangers killed off the weekend with a vengeance. These three chicks know how to slice and dice a stage. Switching instruments, taking whiskey shots, crowd surfing, zinging out jams like “Love ‘Em and Leave ‘Em” -- they encapsulate everything Pizza Fest. As much as it sucked that the festival was over, it’s probably a good thing, because who the hell could have followed their set?

Pizza Fest is a rare event in that even though afterwards your skin’s scratched up, your soul is drunk, your hearing is muffled, your face is covered in pizza grease, your hair is plastered to your head with sweat, and your entire body weeps for sleep -- you immediately want to do it all over again, and know you would come back the very next morning, even, if only the music would start back up. Thanks to everyone who worked, played, and pigged out so hard, especially Wheels Capponi, 2014’s party was an absolute riot, and I can’t even imagine all the fun we’re going to have again next year.