One could draw plenty of conclusions from the fifth-annual Here Comes Your Weekend Parking Lot Blowout, but you could be forgiven if the only thought rushing through your beer-battered brain Saturday was "New Bomb Turks! Oh my god! New Bomb Turks!"

One could draw plenty of conclusions from the fifth-annual Here Comes Your Weekend Parking Lot Blowout, but you could be forgiven if the only thought rushing through your beer-battered brain Saturday was "New Bomb Turks! Oh my god! New Bomb Turks!"

The Turks have not been shy about playing reunion shows in the years since ceasing day-to-day operations circa 2005, and you should thank your deity of choice for their generosity. The gunk punk paragon slaughtered me Saturday, delivering a cocksure bombast the likes of which few foursomes could conjure.

Their set was loud, fast and fun in such a loose and natural fashion as to make being the greatest punk band in the world look easy. And if they're not the greatest, well, you could have fooled me. Music hasn't invigorated me like that in months.

The big news was the original Gibson Bros. lineup performing together for the first time in two decades. Theirs was always a ragtag sound, per the history books, and they sounded fittingly frayed at the edges as they sauntered through their set Saturday. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, but for me their primitive brand of country blues felt like little more than a pleasant comedown after the Turks.

I witnessed but a few faint moments of what seemed like a triumphant headlining set by Scrawl, having had my fill of bands and PBR by nightfall.

As for the rest of the acts lined up by the ever-honorable Columbus Music Co-op, I was tingled by Old Hundred's blustery blend of foot-stomping twang and melancholy indie rock. Fat Girls By the Snack Table, playing an under-hyped reunion set of their own, delighted me by redirecting their jilted electro rants from ex-boyfriends to LeBron James. Heavy psych rockers EYE lulled me into the most violent of dazes.

Yes, the Parking Lot Blowout is for a good cause. All profits funnel into a fund uninsured musicians can tap to cover medical expenses. That's something everybody can appreciate.

But one of the things I appreciate about this event is that despite some degree of variety, it doesn't aim to be everything for everyone. Thus it continues to hit the sweet spot for the cool, cultured segment of the music scene its organizers appeal to.