Yeah, I know, I know, three days late on this and in the blog world, three days might as well be three weeks. I actually just got back this morning around 3am and didn’t really have a chance to think about and reflect on what made this year’s Pitchfork Music Festival so much fun for me.
It hit me this morning halfway into work on what made the last four days such a great time. Of course I went to Chicago to see live music, but I unconsciously approached this festival completely different than I have any other in the past. I had no schedule whatsoever, nada; all I knew is that I wanted to see The Field. It was all about the unexpected, I kind of just let the day take me wherever it wanted and surprisingly it turned out better than I could have imagined.
In the past, when I would go to one of these events, I’d have a specific plan that I was focused on, almost like a horse with blinders where I’d fail to take in a whole other side of the event, which I learned in Chicago was the people who actually came to see the music. This may come across as a bit cheesy to all of you, but for me it was a real eye-opener. Instead of rushing from the front of each stage with my camera in hand, I stepped back and took in the entire festival.
I’ll start from the end and work my way backward. In the wee hours of Monday morning, I found myself on the Blue Line heading back to downtown Chicago talking to some guy from Pitchfork about what he does there. Prior to this, I found myself aimlessly wandering and cab-less in a mostly abandoned area of the Near West Side neighborhood of Chicago after seeing DAN DEACON, DEERHUNTER, and some dude in his tighty whiteys perform at a warehouse loft on a scale much much smaller than they had played just a day earlier. The room where the bands played was also about 300 times more humid than it was here on the East Coast just a week ago and Dan Deacon ate up every bit of it, sweating (I mean pouring) it out with the crowd with his trademark show. Deerhunter’s live show was the real surprise of the weekend – putting on a solid (and loud) set to the Chicago crowd of about 100 or so. It’s really great when a band’s live show can completely sway your opinion about them.
Before hitting up a pre-party for the Deerhunter/Dan Deacon warehouse afterparty, I found myself front and center at the Pitchfork Festival for THE FIELD’s (aka Axel Willner) set. Musically, Willner’s set was the highlight of the festival for me, who delivered with layers minimal techno beats topped off with a bit of shoegaze atmospherics, letting loops dangle, extracting them to infinity, and further reinforcing why From Here We Go Sublime is the album of the year. Before The Field, I caught a bit of STEPHEN MALKMUS’ mellow solo set and some of JAMIE LIDELL’s antics.
The earlier part of Sunday was spent roaming around Union Park, browsing through records, getting caught in a water gun fight, playing bottle cap frisbee, drinking too many Goose Island’s and then waiting in dusty endless bathroom lines, watching people play basketball knockout, and finally learning about roller derby from the Windy City Rollers. I got a killer temporary tattoo from them.
We ended Saturday night in a weird and uncomfortable place, but fortunately the music was good. This followed seeing FREER, TIGERCITY, and DJ Mother Hubbard rock it at The Cobra Lounge. The first day of the festival, I watched Dan Deacon get shut down by the fire marshal after being dragged to see CLIPSE which actually was pretty decent. This was preceded by FUJIYA AND MIYAGI and BATTLES, both of who I was gladly seeing for the first time. IRON AND WINE was quite a bore, but you can’t really blame the band, the sound at their stage was suspect all weekend.
Friday night, I headed up to Wrigleyville, which is sort of like Bleeker Street in Greenwich Village on the weekends. Drunkeness all over the place. DJ Bald Eagle, one-half of the Life During Wartime crew, layed down an absolutely killer set at Metro after the crowd was nearly bored to death with a screening of the Daft Punk’s new movie, Electroma. Remember Gus Van Sant’s Gerry? Electroma also sees a duo hike (and drive) around, A LOT. Still, I’d like to get another shot at seeing the film.
That’s pretty much it, at least everything I can remember. Thanks to the people of Chicago and Pitchfork for putting together such a great festival and welcoming us out-of-towners to your great city.
