Let’s get this out of the way: fuck the Chicago Tribune. They messed up a lot of indie fans this past weekend by printing completely wrong directions to the Pitchfork Music Festival. Despite having lived in the Chicago area for nearly eight years and being with two people who attended the festival last year, I still managed to take the Green Line L train all the way to the end of the line (as per the directions), nearly five miles south of Union Park. A long string of expletives and one forty minute bus ride later, we had missed nearly all of Slint, the first act of the first night. It’s a shame, too, as they sounded pretty damn good.
We got into the crowd at the other stage while Slint finished their 1991 album, Spiderland, and waited to see GZA’s performance of his 1995 album, Liquid Swords. How GZA, a Wu-Tang Clan alumni, got booked to play Pitchfork, I’ll never know. There were perhaps twenty people in the place who knew his album at all, though the rest of the audience did seem to get into it. Nevertheless, GZA’s work demands that the audience know the material and help him perform it, and I felt sorry for him as he futilely tried to get the audience into it. He played a good show regardless.
Sonic Youth was next, and they tore shit up playing their excellent 1988 album, Daydream Nation. The songs were longer this time around, and each one descended into grungy chaos as Thurston and Lee twisted their strings and thrashed to the noise they created. Daydream Nation was a double album when it was released, and the band seemed to know how tired the audience was. “We’re on to Side four now,” Lee said before they started playing the closing epic to the album, “Trilogy.” “The home stretch.” Before they started playing, I only liked Daydream Nation a little. By the time it was over, I was a lifelong fan.
I had to get a ticket from a scalper on Saturday, so I got in just as the Twilight Sad finished their set, so I didn’t really take much away from the performance. I also didn’t catch much of Califone’s set as I waited for Voxtrot. When Voxtrot came on, though, they played an excellent set. Despite the ninety degree heat, lead singer Ramesh Srivastava was full of boundless energy and jumped around to the music as if his life depended on it.
Battles was the next performance I stood up and crowded in close to see. I enjoyed their new album, Mirrored, and wanted to see how the hell they were going to reproduce the songs live. Normally, when you wonder how a band does a song live, seeing them solves it for you. Not so with Battles. I left even more confused than when I went in. The songs were a mess of loops and live samples made by the band members themselves, and the guitarists played by making chords with their fret hands and playing keyboards with the other hand. The only clear member of the band was the drummer, who’s psychotic playing left him completely covered in sweat by set’s end. Despite technical difficulties before their best song, “Atlas” (the “lead singer” blamed a misplaced wire, but frankly I’m surprised they only misplaced one wire), they played an excellent and energetic set.
Iron & Wine was next, and my expectations were pretty high. Sam Beam remarked before the set that his band had all new players, including Wilco alumnus Leroy Bach. Technical difficulties plagued them as well: Beam was poorly miked and his acoustic guitar seemed to cause sound problems, which forced him to play electric for most of the set. Unlike all the other acts at the festival, the crowd stuck around for an encore; perhaps because they knew Beam would come out for one, or perhaps because they felt slighted by the main set’s bad sound quality. Beam came out alone, tuned for about two minutes, and then played Radiohead’s “No Surprises,” a real treat that made up for the rest of the set.
Mash-up DJ Girl Talk (look for our forthcoming interview with Gregg Gillis) was the next artist I wanted to see, but he was the victim of circumstance: For one thing, he was booked on the small, tucked-away electronic stage, and paired against Yoko Ono, who couldn’t draw flies to sugar. At least a third of the Pitchfork audience tried to cram into the small area where Girl Talk was set to perform, and no one left despite repeated delays and warnings that such a crowd was in violation of the fire laws. He was booked to perform for a full hour and a half, but was taken off stage after about thirty-five minutes, perhaps as punishment to the stubborn crowd. From what I could see (I was tucked behind a fence forty feet from the front corner of the stage), he played a good set, getting as wild and crazy as his reputation dictated. The bouncers let a few crowd members onstage at a time to give a “dance party” vibe to the whole scene.
I did end up going over to see Yoko Ono for a few minutes just so I could say I’ve seen her. After all, my favorite musician, John Lennon, married her. What could I do? Let me save you all the trouble of going to see her by summing up her performance style: drums and bass pound away in the background while she wails. “WAAAAAHH-AAA-aaaaaAAAAAH!!” Kind of like that, but less melodic. Too much work to do and impatience with other people prevented me from going on Sunday, so I didn’t get a chance to see The Sea and Cake, or any other bands playing that night. I really hate Of Montreal, though, so I don’t really mind.
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