Posted on 02 August 2010.
Pitchfork Music Festival 2010
Photos by: Josh Darr
Words by: Josh Darr and Derek Walker
Friday, July 16
It surprised me to see the crowd for The Tallest Man On Earth Friday afternoon. I had only heard a few of his songs before his performance, none of which I particularly enjoyed, so I didn’t expect such a large draw right out of the gate. But Kristian Matsson, the eclectic Swede, changed my mind with a strong half-hour set. A bit jet-lagged and sleepy-eyed, Matsson explained why he would have to keep his set to a minimum. “It’s an extremely short set today,” he said. “They won’t let me play longer. Maybe they saw how I looked.”
Matsson didn’t deny how he felt. “You get to see me at my weakest. The sun is so hot. I haven’t slept in two days,” he admitted to a vibrant early-afternoon audience at the Connector Stage. However, he did the most with his time, tearing into a handful of self-confessed love songs, including the beautiful “Love Is All.” And, while I have no qualms saying I didn’t care for his most recent album, I have no qualms saying I loved his set. Passionate, energetic and moving, Matsson brought an honesty and a bravado to the stage I never expected. His cocky strutting as he jammed away on his acoustic more than won me over – and I’m sure it won more than me over, as well.
I stuck around the C Stage for Liars, another band I hadn’t heard much of, but was curious to hear in a live venue. The crowd swelled a little bit as the sun started to dip, with plenty people gathering nearby to position themselves for Broken Social Scene. Immediately, I was taken by frontman Angus Andrew’s wild choice of attire – a shrunken Men At Work shirt and about the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen. His shrieks translated well to the big stage, amping up the energy of both the crowd and his bandmates, who weren’t half as outgoing as he was.
The heat still cranked all the way up, Andrew invited sweaty fans onstage to “have a go” at him because, hey, why not? Clearly, the band was there to have fun. The reverb-heavy affair was hit or miss for me, though the crowd more than got into it, with a few scattered mosh pits forming throughout. There were just enough hypnotic dance moves, microphone half-swallowings, head wobbles and Chicago name drops to keep me interested for the duration. A pleasant surprise, indeed.
After Liars’ supercharged set I had an important decision to make: do I get a decent spot for Broken Social Scene or do I go all in for Modest Mouse? While it was a tough call, I chose to line up for Modest Mouse around 7:30, a full hour before they took the stage. However, thanks to the festival layout, I was close enough to hear and see both bands – one more than the other, obviously. I never was too sold on Broken Social Scene beyond their stellar “You Forgot It In People” full-length, and as they only ended up playing two songs from that record. It was nice to hear “Cause = Time” and “Stars and Sons,” but the nostalgic in me would have went haywire for “Anthems For a Seventeen Year Old Girl” or “Almost Crimes.” Since those two weren’t played, I had no qualms about my decision to push closer to Modest Mouse.
By 8:30, the sun had nearly set and I was a good four feet from the barricade separating photographers and other important folks from the normals. Isaac Brock took the stage first, cigarette dangling from his lip, to an uproarious applause from the eager audience. He seemed in high spirits, as did the rest of the band, upon tearing into the first song of the set, “Tiny Cities Made of Ashes,” which was one of the more energetic of the entire evening. While many people I’ve talked to said the opener was the wildest the band got all night, I have to disagree – the craziest thing I personally witnessed was the epic 10-minute rendition of “Dramamine,” which blended perfectly into “Life Like Weeds.”
The set itself was fairly satisfying. There was a bit of leaning toward newer stuff, which was a bit disappointing, but Brock and company played every song so perfectly it didn’t make much of a difference. Despite glowsticks being chucked at his head the entire 80 minutes he was on stage, he took it well and shrugged it off, making a joke about swallowing the green fluid to turn his mouth pretty colors. He never ended up drinking the harmful-if-swallowed chemical, but his high spirits were more than enough. Another fun moment occurred as a fan held up a sign reading, “Play The Lonesome Crowded West,” which made Brock ask, “The whole album?” He then peered down at an invisible wristwatch, shrugged and kept going.
After much deliberation the band played an encore consisting of “Gravity Rides Everything” and “Black Cadillacs,” but I’m not so sure those were the right choices. I can only imagine how insane the park would have went had the much requested “Cowboy Dan” been played, if only for a few notes. In all, an explosive showing from the guys though the set could have used some tweaking.
Saturday, July 17
My Saturday did not have me arriving until the later part of the afternoon in an attempt to pace myself for the fun-tastic full schedule I had in store for Sunday as well as being more excited for the later acts. If you read my preview on Wolf Parade then there is no need explain my excitement to catch their performance seemingly on the hottest part and stage of the day, I feared at times Spencer Krug was going to melt on stage. This was a first time for me as I hadn’t the opportunity to catch them on any of the various side acts not to mention getting to shoot them to boot. Beginning the set with the opener, “Cloud Shadow..” to their most recent, Expo 86 with a quick rambly dispense of lyrics the Canadian quartet set the tone for the day’s later acts all of who utilized a synthesizing approach in some capacity.
They continued on swapping vocal duties between Dan Boekner and Krug, each poignantly illustrating their perspectives and playing unfazed from the heat. At one point, Krug announces, “I’m not sure what we’re gonna play; we’re just going to play for the hour they gave us,” as the crowd cheers to this announcement the band recommences. They play with high energy and intensity playing from each of their three records as Krug is set up on his keyboards center stage half sitting and hunched over in a true composer fashion. Not to take away from Boekner or Dante DeCaro pulling off double duty of their own strumming or pounding down on their respected keyboard as well. In between songs, Krug takes a moment to orchestrate the audience to say “HI Todd” their tour Manager, back in Canada with a broken leg noting the amazing aspects of technology allowing Todd and Dan’s wife (Handsome Furs band mate) Alexi Perry to enjoy the show from the comforts of their homes. Their set list reads like a greatest hits compilation of their last seven years, not having a weak moment in sound or again the amazingness of their energy not faltering from the blistering sun.
I hurry over to Stage B, as Brooklyn’s Bear in Heaven prepare to take the stage in the most shaded area of the park as the crowd eagerly awaits their performance, taking an intermission from the heat to relax and enjoy the psychedelic krautrock. I was excited to see them perform again as the last time was when they blew through town with Metric, finishing up their tour excited for a much needed break. Although just a trio, so much sound comes from the stage with a booming explosion of sound complimenting the high pitched wails of singer, Jon Philpot. Adam Willis sits back with ease observing the crowd, who hang on each word nodding their heads in a trance like fashion. The trio sits back with ease creating these grand multi-layered compositions emulating a soundtrack of a pseudo-futuristic film from the seventies growing with intensity and bombastic sound. What excited me more, was their evening set at Lincoln Hall that would include the newly developed light show the guys have been tinkering on during this tour.
My Saturday coverage ended with LCD Soundsystem playing background music to conversations with new and old friends. I totally respect James Murphy for what he is able to produce and I am just as inclined to throw on a disk when in the mood but my musical upbringing was not one post punk experimental dance rock. I had the please of catching there set in Manchester, TN this year at Bonnaroo as he played to an overfilled tent in the wee hours of the morning so I did not have an urgency to fight with the crowds to dance along. I have to admit I’m slightly bummed I didn’t shoot the performance but my priority lied under a tree with a cold beer. Regardless of my choice the crowd was energetic and pumped, dancing and moving along like the previous night the weather slightly cooled down aiding in laid back evening with enjoyable tunes.
Sunday, July 18
Unforeseen circumstances forced me to miss Saturday’s amazing lineup, including the band I most wanted to see, Wolf Parade, so I tried making the most of my Sunday. The first band that really interested me and caught my ears was Washed Out on the Balance Stage. I had caught a show of his a couple months ago at a much smaller venue called the Empty Bottle, and that almost ruined this experience for me. All the energy and emotion fueling that tiny bar show was sucked out of the set at Pitchfork, and I’m uncertain as to why. It was a little underpowered, a little boring and nowhere near as brilliant as I remembered it being in a cramped, sweaty dive bar this winter. And that’s a shame, because Ernest Greene, the man behind the Mac Book, is a wonderful performer.
The crowd didn’t help matters much. About half full as it could have been, most in the people were sitting around, seemingly waiting for the highly anticipated Neon Indian. Pretty hit and miss performance, though I wouldn’t go as far as blaming any one entity. Honestly, I just think the Washed Out sound works a lot better in the dark corner of a 200-person venue.
Sunday seemed like a good day for those there to relax and hang out. The temperatures cooled off by about 10 degrees and the cloud cover was more prevalent than the days before. This aided Beach House’s set on the C Stage and kept the band members cool-headed and full of well-timed, good-natured humor. “We’re happy to be back in the United States of America,” said singer Victoria Legrand as she opened the show. “We missed the big coffees.”
Like many other Pitchfork performers, I’d only heard one of Beach House’s records, and it never blew me away. Seeing them live changed my opinion almost instantaneously, as I was treated to delicate, dreamy pop music that was both deep with meaning and easy to digest. Songs like “Master of None” and “Norway,” two tunes I had heard before the festival, were done so well it almost makes me wonder how this band is still fairly unknown in most social circles. “If anyone has dry underwear by the end of this song, you’d better leave the festival,” said guitarist Alex Scally before playing “Walk in the Park.” Nobody left.
After my Beach House hangover, I swung by the festival’s arts and crafts set up for a while as I waited for Neon Indian. I had a sizable gap to fill between bands, and I thought I’d have a little more time before that set, but I was mistaken. Upon arriving to the B Stage, I was swarmed with people dancing and gyrating back and forth, some sober, some not. But, in unison, everyone was having a blast as Alan Palomo got the most he could out of the stage’s reduced sound capacity. I was pretty far back for this set, a good hundred feet from where I was standing for Washed Out, but I still heard everything perfectly.
I loved “Psychic Chasms,” which I still consider one of the better albums of the past two or three years, so to see the live takes of songs like “Local Joke” and the hit “Should Have Taken Acid With You” was a treat. My only wish was getting there a little sooner so I could comfortably catch more of the music. Well, a lot sooner, because this was one of the more crowded performances of the weekend, smallest stage withstanding.
Please excuse me as the sixteen year old me reviews the final performance of the weekend’s festivities. Winning the luck of the draw, I made it into the pit with the first wave of photographers as we listened to the rowdy crowd anxiously and rudely booing Pavement’s lead in, Q101 former shock jock, Ryan Rockin’ Murphy. His long winded intro beckoned the audience’s gratitude for his tiring attempts to break the band in the early 90s, as he sidestepped objects thrown at the stage by the impatient fans. Finally after an unending interlude the band walk onto stage thanking Murphy for his comic relief and strapping on their guitars ready to jam amping the crowd up even more as the first notes begin..Wait!!! Stephen Malkmus is having amp issues which no one had noticed and let’s try this again.
With the strum of the guitar and the high pitched hoots the set begins with “Cut Your Hair” singing with ease and familiarity as though these seventeen years have allowed them to evolve as musician yet retained the angst filled sound that had many teenagers blaring their music from their room in revolt. Thrilled and grateful to be taking the stage this weekend, Stephen greets the crowd momentarily before continuing the eloquent cacophony that had the overfilled park singing and dancing along. The beauty of bringing in a nostalgic ridden headliner like Pavement, is the fact that their setlist will essentially play out like a greatest hits album allowing the audience to drum up their memories to favorites and also reveal a new appreciation for a younger generation of fans.
Bob Nastanovich sat setup beside drummer Steve West playing an array of extra instruments pending on the song not to mention his ageless raspy yell as he handled many of the choruses and extra vocals. So many memories flooding my cerebral cortex triggering a mixture of emotions good and bad as I take in the last of this year Pitchfork Festival. Especially at the meat of the set with personal favorites, “Spit on a Stranger”, “Range Life” and “Trigger Cut”. A quarantine of the past end capped a festival of the now, with many emerging bands drawing from their youthful inspirations in their music from bands like Modest Mouse and Pavement closing a chapter on another congregation of the “intellectual” music fans and hipsters. Sweet dreams Pitchfork, until next year..I am headed to Lincoln Hall to see my friends Local Natives close out the weekend in style.
Festival culture
Atmosphere-wise, nobody does it better than Pitchfork. While Union Park isn’t in the most friendly of neighborhoods – something I would find out after Modest Mouse’s set Friday night – the festival grounds themselves are spacious and accommodating. Even with thousands of fans cramming the staging area waiting for Pavement, navigation from one side of the park to the other was painless. And unlike big brother Lollapalooza, Pitchfork offers a heck of a lot more than just music.
In addition to a terrific lineup spread across three stages, there was an art show called the Flatstock Poster Gallery, where concertgoers could buy old gig posters from their favorite musicians and screenprinters. The variety of talent on-hand for this was incredible, as literally every style was represented. OK, maybe not every style, but the selection was fairly massive.
Another unique addition to Pitchfork was the record store fair, a massive, bigtop-sized tent where record labels from all over the country come together to showcase their artists. Labels like Sub Pop, Polyvinyl and Drag City had impressive displays, while local boy Graveface impressed with a ton of freebies. Other vendors sold $5 DVDs, T-shirts of the bands not attending the festival, buttons, discounted vinyl records, CDs and tapes, and crafts.
Yes, crafts. Sharing the tent with the record labels were a number of artists displaying their artwork and handmade items. Everything from paintings to jewelry was offered, and for relatively cheap. The hour or so I spent browsing this tent really filled the gap between bands for me Sunday, and that’s what makes this fest stick out. I’m not a guy who can stand around listening to music for 10 hours straight, three days in a row. Never have been, never will be, so to be able to cool off in the shade and check out some local artists, dig through some records and snag a few more pins for my already pin-heavy backpack, that means something to me.
I should also mention the food and drink vendors, which were top-notch. A little expensive, but it’s a festival, I expected no less. Pitchfork deserves much praise for their low prices on water. The first day or so it was two bucks per bottle, which was then lowered to one dollar. Seriously, good move. With so many people being affected by the overwhelming heat, this was a very smart business decision.
Finally, while I’m handing out kudos, I must give a special mention to the staff. You all were unbelievable. Never have I been surrounded by a nicer, more caring group that looked out for my safety, as well as the safety of the thousands in attendance. If someone fell, security guards rushed into the crowd to save them, and if someone needed water, they would pass a bottle around the crowd or, even better, throw water into the crowd. It was a hot, sticky weekend and the people at Pitchfork more than made up for it. As someone who was affected by the heat himself, I appreciated the water I received while waiting listening to Broken Social Scene on Friday. This is how a festival should be run. Everybody else, take note.
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