Pitchfork Festival 2010 Recap

The only two acts at Pitchfork to brandish Hennessey on stage this year were without coincidence my two favorites: Freddie Gibbs and Major Lazer.

It was really hot. There were people everywhere, maybe 20% more than last year. The price of water was lowered from $2 to $1 after the first day to encourage people to stay conscious. Baseball diamond dust created swirling clouds of dirt that served as a kind of visual meter for awesomeness (more dancing = more dust; Major Lazer kicked up a sandstorm.) Corporate sponsorship, expensive (albeit tasty) food, Amp Energy Drink Zync by American Express Toyota Antics Henieken Light Threadless Clif Bar Greyhound.

Despite all that, everyone had fun, which can’t be said about every other behemoth music festival in the states.

The standout acts of what I caught were Delorean, Titus Andronicus, Broken Social Scene, LCD Soundsystem, Lightning Bolt, Sleigh Bells and the aforementioned Lazer/Gibbs. The best acts at a music festival create energy and some sets were Amp®ed up more than most. For example, it was nice to hear Panda Bear’s "Tomboy" played in its entirety but you could lay down in the crowd and take a nap without fear. The dude just stood there. Which is cool and all; I got you, Noah. But that kind of music is best experienced without the body odor of 35,000 other people as adjunct sensory input. If I’m smelling your festival BO, it better be because I just got moshed into your armpit.

Here’s a rundown of what was notable and what sucked each day of the fest. Overall it was a successful endeavor and the lineup was well worth the money spent. That being said, if the crowds continue to grow as exponentially as they have in recent years that cost to value ratio could rapidly drop off. I mean, hell, I’m not tryin’ to go to Bonnaroo up in this Union Park thang; if I wanted that I’d go to Lolapalooza. 

 FRIDAY

Friday was calmer and less crowded. With 11 acts scheduled against Saturday and Sunday’s 17 there was a more peaceful air in the atmosphere, but maybe this had more to do with the lack of artists determined to rouse the crowd into a riot. Sharon Van Etten was pretty good but meh in comparison with the rest of the fest (it’s gotta be tough going on first at an event like this.) Liars rocked out and had most of the crowd bobbing heads. Robyn’s set proved to be a dance party, climaxing with her now famous single “Don’t Fucking Tell Me What To Do” (in some respects my personal theme of the weekend).

I was really excited for Michael Showalter. He’s been an idol of mine for years, pretty much ever since I first saw Wet Hot American Summer, which segued me into The State, Stella and everything else associated with those guys. I was really saddened to see he was having a terrible day. Before his set I got to meet him by the press tent and he took a picture with my friend and I but he was really agitated by something. We saw him talking angrily on the phone and he gave us a rude “too good for you” attitude that really put me off. It was no surprise when he bombed, completely and totally, on stage. I don’t know what happened to this guy on Friday but I sure hope he’s recovered by now. It was so bad he was literally joking about it on stage: “I’m gonna go home and blog about how I had a nervous breakdown at Pitchfork Music Festival.” All this, between heckling innocent hipsters and complaining about the loudness of the other stages. Dude, you’re a professional, deal with it.

Eugene Mirman swooped in to save the day at the comedy stage, delivering an impressively hilarious set that was ever-internet-aware (a bit comprised of printed-out avatars from a Teaparty message board and ones he created) and perfect for the Pitchfork audience. At the end of his set he stood on the stage fence and handed out self-made business cards. One said “Eugene Mirman: Discreet, Professional Pussy Shaving.” (The tagline: “Shhhhh, it’s okay.”) Another simply said “Fuck You.”

Broken Social Scene showed up with their usual cast of 35+ musicians and filled the stage with more guitars than you could shake a synth at. They also rocked. I heard dissenting opinions throughout the fest but I wondered if those people were seeing the same act as I was, because they killed it. Those guys are all professionals, extremely dedicated to their music, and their songs (old and new) were tight and bloomed with flourishes one would hope would emerge from having a militia of dudes playing your set. 7.8 best new Friday act.

Modest Mouse are Modest Mouse. They do songs for Toyota commercials now. The crowd was too packed to get a good spot, which sucked, because they were my thing when I was 14 and Moon and Antarctica, like, changed my life man. I hear from the dudes in VIP that they were good, so take their word for it.

SATURDAY

Saturday was the hottest day and reports of people passing out like flies the day before prompted a few measures by festival organizers to, y’know, prevent that: water prices halved, free water distributed/squirted in the front rows, multiple announcements to “watch out for each other and have a good time.” Sounds good, guy.

Real Estate played a great set. Those guys really know how to work their instruments, and they charmed me with their slightly coy but down-to-earth personalities. Alex Bleeker asked us if we were excited for Pavement. Their drummer Etienne was all smiles (and would prove to be a firecracker during Neon Indian’s set.) I love these guys. Check out Alex Bleeker and the Freaks if you can.

Sonny and the Sunsets were good; I got an interview with them that will run soon on this very same web-o-site.

Delorean were standouts for me. I’m a sucker for movement and they definitely made the crowd move. Keyboardist Unai Lazcano has a big fro of curly black hair that makes his bouncy barefoot dancing really fun to watch. The rest of the guys were filled with about as much energy and surprised me with their set. Kurt Vile was too whatever to get really excited at his set, which is fine because Titus Andronicus was playing 300 feet away and got everyone’s heart rate up. They rocked, they rolled, front man Patrick Stickles dove into the audience to the dismay of the pissed-off S3 security guys and became the crowd. I saw them Friday night at the Subterranean and that show got so wild it was dangerous (oh, yeah, by the way: 6’4” dude in the green Rice Table shirt, you are too muscular and bro-y to mosh at a Titus Andronicus show, especially at SubT. You almost hurt someone.) They showed the same amazing energy at the fest and were the best act of the day for me.

Dam-Funk were meh. Raekwon’s DJ Symphony was plagued with laptop problems (calls from the audience: “Restart your computer!”), which delayed his set and prompted an acapella from Rae. I can’t hate on Wu Tang, man, so I’ll excuse that. Smith Westerns are heartthrobs and ruled (the Chicago Tribune said they need to spice up their live act, which is true, but they’re only 11 years old and have time to get there.) WHY? are WHATEVER, and Wolf Parade did good by me.

Here’s the deal with Panda Bear: The dude stands there and presses buttons and touches shit. Sometimes that’s excusable if your music is upbeat (for example, Diplo, even if he hadn’t had the amazing Skerrit Bwoy and other distractions on stage, would have still killed as Major Lazer behind a computer.) For Panda Bear, especially at a music festival, it made for a sleepy time. True fans were into it but I saw a stream of bros heading for the facilities and nourishment. One dude I talked to said he was making “music for the future,” which may be true, but I’d rather see Noah Lennox in a club. With his newfound celebrity status I doubt that’ll be likely to happen soon.

Then came Freddie Gibbs. Dude busts out on stage with bottles of water and Hennessey in his right hand, mic in the left, sloshing wet stuff everywhere and providing an entertaining water show to kick off his set. The rhymes were tight and the crowd was into it. You could smell the weed for miles.

LCD Soundsystem was fantastic. James Murphy used his microphone as a reverse ventilator, literally squishing it into his lips to breathe life into a tired audience. With a festival-sized disco ball to set the mood his newer hits and classics had most of the crowd getting down.  8.5 best new headliner.

SUNDAY

Best Coast brought her best thrift-store sunglasses to shield herself from our Illinoisan gaze, but fortunately for her we don’t hate on California, just Ohio. The tunes were breezy and bright and the new stuff sounded great. Her banter was pretty funny and it was pretty much a successful set, drawing a huge crowd for the smaller Balance stage.

Girls had a similarly breezy California attitude and played their green pop songs with scowls and long hair, except for Christopher Owens, who sported a short summer cut that contrasted with his bandmates’. They sounded great and made all the girls swoon. Washed Out was synthy, he swayed behind his MIDI keyboard while whatever program he abuses did all the work. People say he sucks live but his set sounded good, despite the fact he stood motionless, like Panda Bear the day before. I wish he’d been there with a live band to back him up; there were dozens to choose from.

Beach House played their set admirably but I was similarly unmoved by the stationary “sit/stand in one place and play” attitude. The guitarist Alex Scally sits on a chair. Is that even excusable in 2010? It matched the tone but this is a music festival – stand up so people can see you. They had pretty triangular sparkly things in the background that probably stood as some sort of weird metaphor for something.

Local Natives were great but then came Lightning Bolt, who will always be freaking insane. Brian Chippendale, drummer, wearing a mask with a mic. Brian Gibson on bass with monster technical skills. A stack of monitors and speakers dwarfing them from behind. Kids moshing and crowdsurfing in front. This is the kind of set made for a festival: crazy fast songs that made the audience freak out. More water was poured on these front rows between this and Major Lazer than every other set combined, and for good reason; it was really hot and one could have easily gotten bothered. But no bother, because everyone was having too much fun getting their eardrums blown out to care.

Surfer Blood played admirably. JP was a little boring but their keyboardist/second percussionist Marcos Marchesani made his huge afro move with turbo speed while providing a spicy bass drum kick and sweet vocals. They kept it together and the songs sounded great live. St. Vincent kind of freaked me out a little, but maybe that’s normal. At points she was wildly smacking and hitting her guitar to get maximum shake in the sound, which made for great photos. They were one of the best that day on the C stage.

Major Lazer. What more is there to say? By now you should associate the name with insanity. Their set blew me away. The entire crowd had their arms in the air and their shirts swinging by Skerrit Bwoy’s command- who, by the way, was the best frontman of the entire festival. Gigantic Chinese dragons bobbed in time with the booties of Bwoy’s dancers, which were shaking faster than Surfer Blood’s maracas. Some of the dance moves I saw here were crazy. If you’ve ever seen Lazer’s “How to Dagger” instructional video, you’ll know what I’m talking about when I say that Skerrit Bwoy jumped off a fucking ladder in his boxers onto a chick. Diplo did his thing in the background and played awesome new and remashed songs. Like Freddie, Skerrit whipped up a bottle of Henny mid-set and took a huge gulp, forcing his dancers to do so as well. We also had Champagne sprayed on us and got to witness aerobatics involving girls swinging on hips the likes of which Cirque de Soleil hasn’t even thought of. 9.9 best new anything ever.

Neon Indian were even more energetic than they were at the Bottom Lounge on Thursday night. Etienne from Real Estate emerged towards the end of the set and stage dove into the crowd, which takes hops, ‘cause the gulf between stage and audience is pretty wide. That got Alan and his crew smiling, and made for a really good set of finishing songs. Right after that were Sleigh Bells, who really impressed me. I didn’t like their album as much as their demos at all (maybe that’s cause MIA had something to do with it). But here, live, they were just as raucous and blown out as the stuff that got them there (and Coachella and a thousand other places.) Six Marshall half-stacks lined up behind them to make for an intimidating wall of sound as Alexis screamed and shouted, hair flying everywhere, illuminated like rain in headlights by two intense strobe lights that made for great pictures. She got out on the subwoofer in front of the stage and whipped the crowd into a ferocious frenzy. My faith in them was renewed.

Pavement sounded the same as they did in 1999 when they last played Chicago. And that just about wraps it up, folks! Props to fest organizers for staying on their feet and keeping stuff relatively well organized and responsive. Props to me for enduring the biggest packs of bros I’ve ever seen in my life (and I go to Wisconsin-Madison, man.) My final picture in the photo set basically sums up my festival experience. 10.0 best new t-shirt. You win the bro hipster funny shirt contest, dude. You win.