Pitchfork Festival, Chicago Union Park

The Mae Shi

After spending a few days in Chicago lugging myself around in blistering ninety degree heat, Mother Nature was kind to us Pitchfork Festival attendees and let the weather cool down for the weekend.

After the festival opened with a lacklustre performance from Tortoise and a frankly boring turn from Yo La Tengo, it was The Jesus Lizard who were the real saviours of the Friday night line up. Within the first moments of opening song ‘Puss’, David Yow had already thrown himself into the crowd (the first of numerous times that evening) and displayed no intention of chilling out at any point over the next hour. Whilst he prowled around like a snarly, smarmy prick, the band provided some brilliantly tight rock music that kept the crowd insane (and I mean literally insane, in many cases). Friday’s headliners, Built To Spill, however, had the literally impossible task of following the energy generated by The Jesus Lizard.  I think even the most devout Built To Spill fan would concur that, whilst the set was solid enough, the band’s position on the bill felt frankly weird and was pale after the buzz of the first hometown show in over a decade from of one of the world’s most well regarded punk bands.

Proceedings on Saturday were impressively brought underway by Cymbals Eat Guitars who displayed a penchant for organically switching between gentler textures and face-melting rock. After doing some mooching around and looking at all the lovely stalls (some seriously cool stuff, including a ridiculously huge and beautiful poster sale) I headed back to see Fucked Up. Despite the fact that it was still early afternoon, Fucked Up were one of the few bands of the weekend who roused the crowd to Jesus Lizard-esque levels of enthusiasm. In the live setting, the band were as aggressive and relentless as you might hope as well as simultaneously coming across as a likable bunch of sweet folks (even when they stage dive whilst still wearing their guitars or tear apart all the beach balls that bounce their way).

The next highlight of the day came in the form of Ponytail who also brought out the freak in people much to the terror and anger of the security guards. This act were one of the true standouts of the weekend with the front woman ‘vocalist’ (but don’t expect any words) being cheerleader of the freakout; switching from inviting to frightening at the drop of a hat. The four-piece made a dizzying spectacle of dance-punk which absolutely has to be experienced – an almost primal experience yet refreshingly danceable and exciting.

I had reservations about The National headlining a festival. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a huge fan of the band, it’s just that I was uncertain how engaging their minimalistic murmurs might translate in such a setting. In case you haven’t already seen them: it’s fantastically engrossing in an epic, beautiful way. When the band swoops into their towering textures of strings and horns, it sounds truly stunning and The National dispersed all doubts in my mind concerning their place on the bill – I could have listened to another hour of them.

Sunday began with a fairly odd performance from the Mae Shi in manners both good and bad. Energy and eccentric quirks were present and correct but even a successful gamble on a rap section towards the end of the set couldn’t rectify the fact that the set felt shambolic and half-baked. After a solid performance from Blitzen Trapper, I caught a stellar set from Pharoahe Monch. Despite being a black sheep at a relatively un-hip-hop festival, his tight flow, show-stealingly good backup singers and the DJ’s bass in yo’ face style (I mean, like, literally in your face; rattling your teeth) combined to make the perfect counterbalance to the phoned-in offering from DOOM the day before. Equally impressive were the Walkmen who also hit you on an almost visceral level with guitars, horns and an incredibly powerful lead vocal all combining to do pounding justice to the band’s brilliant songs and lyrics.

Crowds descended on the stage for Grizzly Bear over an hour before they took to the stage but I managed to nab a spot near the front (from my position, M83 sounded like they were having a slamming set) but it was worth it when the band took the stage for an hour long set which, despite being plagued by sound problems, was about as great as you would hope their live show to be – and, in fact, a surprisingly aggressive sonic onslaught. The decidedly fan-filled crowd lapped up the ‘hits’ whilst more understated album tracks took on a new lease of life thanks to thicker, more rocking live arrangements.

Being at the front at Grizzly Bear meant you were at the back for the Flaming Lips. At first, my jealousy was hard to contain as I saw fountains and fountains of confetti and balloons shower over those nearer the stage but, as the set moved on, the show revealed itself to be decidedly sluggish. After listening to downbeat, stripped-bare versions of ‘Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots’ and ‘Fight Test’ (along with Wayne, between songs, practically begging and demanding the crowd to show more enthusiasm) I decided to go check out the other stage where The Very Best were kicking off a shitstorm of a dance party.

The crowd was drastically smaller, but infinitely more receptive. I only managed to catch the last two songs but they had everyone dancing. And I don’t mean dancing as in when the word ‘dancing’ is used as a euphemism for jumping around on each other’s toes… I mean actual hip-shaking-hand-clapping-dancing-like-nobody’s-watching dancing. After the crowd unsuccessfully begged for a second encore, I moved back to the Flaming Lips for another few bland tracks before ‘Do You Realize??’, to be fair, did manage to provide a euphoric and cathartic close to the festival (although, they ought to be pretty good at that number by now). But, if I learned anything from my trip to the Pitchfork Festival it is that it’s in the nooks and crannies of life (and, indeed, festival line-ups) where you often find the real treasures! Two songs of The Very Best did more for me than seeing the majority of the Lips’ set – a sentiment clearly shared by all involved judging by the respective enthusiasm (or lack thereof) of both crowds.

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