Who: Lay LowWhere: NW Court StageWhen: 4:30 p.m.Lay Low was perhaps the most purely gorgeous set I saw all weekend. Not that anyone really goes to music festivals to hear something soft and pretty and thoughtful, but in this case I will absolutely, lovingly take it. Lovisa Elisabet Sigrunardottir (whose full name I mention in part because it’s an adventure for me) sings everything in an indoor voice with the tone of a sunlit confession. She doesn’t have the poppy drumbeats of an Ingrid Michaelson or Regina Spektor or anyone in the commercialized indie pop female singer-songwriter stock; it’s just her and her guitar and something honest and wrenching. I imagine her strumming her gentle little folk songs from a couch, in a dimly lit cafe, on a rocking chair. The audience even held remarkably quiet, and even between songs the comers and goers and beer garden denizens kept to an intentional whisper. Lay Low even treated the audience to some beautiful songs in Icelandic, including “Sorgin,” meaning “sadness,” a song based on her mother’s longing for the home country she had to leave, which even without lyrics sounds like the voices of a letter with portraits enclosed. For the most part, it was just Sigrunardottir onstage, occasionally joined by another female vocalist (who countered with a rich lower range, like the dusk to Sigrunardottir’s sunny tone) and glockenspiel or ukulele. Glock and uke get thrown into pop songs a lot these days, but Lay Low never goes too crazy with them. They show up when they need to show up, and they melt in so nicely you hardly realize they’re there. Lay Low does throw in a little crazy, though, with more gritty bluesy tunes like “Please Don’t Hate Me” that still pack soul even with a lone lady onstage. And she can says more with fewer people and gadgets onstage because it says so much to what some of the best songs are about: a conversation, a connection, raw vulnerability.