BANGOR – On any of the three days of this year’s American Folk Festival, it was nice to pause a moment amid the huge, mostly well-behaved crowds, the mercifully perfect weather and the enticing smells of curry and cinnamon and garlic and coffee, and to close your eyes, open up your ears and listen.

What was there to hear? Some 22 different performers, with choices varying wildly at any given time from the gritty, stripped-down acoustic blues of Robert Belfour to Michele Choiniere’s lithe interpretation of traditional Franco-American songs.

Friday night, after the Bahamas Junkanoo Revue kicked off the festival in a fantastic burst of color and rhythm, the Ethel Caffie Austin Singers took the Penobscot Stage and set a joyous, uplifting tone for the rest of the weekend. The group of four Virginia women, led by “First Lady of Gospel Music” Ethel Caffie Austin, were armed with tambourines, cowbells, a piano, and astonishingly powerful voices that rang clear and true right up to the roof of the tent.

Across the bridge at the Kenduskeag Dance Stage, Bangor was on its feet for a festival favorite: the irresistible sounds of Latin music, provided this year by Grupo Fantasma. They rocked the dance stage to a crowd of spinning couples who held each other close, and groups of dancers who shook and shimmied and cha-cha-cha’d the night away.

At around 1 p.m. Saturday, as passengers hopped off the school bus that took them from their cars at Bass Park to the corner of Independent and Broad streets, a deep, long, buzzing tone emanated from Heritage Stage, where a crowd of alternately puzzled and fascinated people gathered to watch the goings-on.

Huun Huur Tu, made up of four performers from Tuva, an autonomous region between Mongolia and Siberia, demonstrated the unique tradition of throat singing. One performer can actually create two or more simultaneous pitches. Dressed in traditional garb, with an array of drums, violins and lutes accompanying them, it’s safe to say it was one of the most unique performances ever to grace the National or American Folk Festival. As one audience member said, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Following your ears back to the Kenduskeag Stage, Airdance played gentle, lilting New England folk music to a huge crowd of dancers, who were whipped into shape by a caller who told them how to perform the various styles that make up New England contra dance.

“I’m Chrissy Fowler, and I’m from Millinocket, Maine!” shouted the caller, to peals of applause as the dancers do-si-do’d and spun their partners in three turning circles of people, with a formation ending with a big communal “Whoop!”

Then it was easy to follow the sounds: Daryl Davis pounded on the piano at the Heritage Stage, boogie-woogie-ing through a take on “Great Balls of Fire.” Back toward the river, No Speed Limit played fast, limber bluegrass on the Penobscot Stage, and if you timed it right, you could run back to the Kenduskeag Stage to catch Geno Delafose and hear the French Rockin’ Boogie bust out some Cajun party music, Zydeco style. And then you’d have plenty of time to get back to the Heritage Stage to see Karl and the County Dutchmen play real German polka, complete with oompah tuba.

A big festival hit this year was Grand Master Seiichi Tanaka and the San Francisco Taiko Dojo, who received a standing ovation and provided an encore after their set at the Penobscot Stage on Saturday night. Punctuated by screams and shouts, Tanaka and his troupe of athletic performers slammed on drums ranging in size from hand-held to some almost 15-feet tall. Seeing and hearing someone beat on a huge drum with all the strength in his body really got people’s hearts pounding.

Then, as the night wound down, “Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah!” could be heard at the Kenduskeag Stage.

Oliver Mtukudzi punched out each syllable as he and his crack nine-piece band of Zimbabwean musicians paused between songs at their closing set.

“Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah!” responded the audience, clapping and hooting, as Mtukudzi and company launched into another song and everyone started dancing again.

A jubilant polyrhythmic stew of traditional African styles and bouncy reggae and folk, Mtukudzi led his backup singers in call-and-response vocals and beamed as the wildly appreciative crowd moved together to the beat – from a lightly swaying elderly couple, to a group of teenagers practically worshipping the guitarist; from the groups of people tapping their feet in the beer garden, to a father with his smiling little baby, who waved her hands and giggled.

Even after the music had died down and the stages were packed away, you could still sort of hear it. Just make sure you follow your ears to next year’s festival, for a whole new set of aural experiences. Who knows where they might take you?