Concert Review: Pitchfork Music Festival, Saturday

This past weekend the Thom Siblog and his affiliates descended upon Chicago for roughly 72 hours to drink too much Fuze, ogle rock poster art and check out the dozens of bands playing the Pitchfork Music Festival. Having attended the festival in 2006, I noticed some minor changes to the festival set up: this go around there was a more substantial third stage (which I believe can be attributed directly to last year's police baiting Girl Talk set) and jumbotron-esque screens that alternated between Pitchfork.tv promos and the acts performing on the main stages.

Truth be told, Saturday morning looked grim, weather-wise. When I pulled the curtain to my hotel room open I expected to see an idealistic mix of sun, sprinkled with some clouds, with a light breeze gently shaking the trees. What I got were torrential downpours. One trip to the Walgreen's later, ponchos were acquired (Sox, not Cubs) and off to the Festival we went.

1:00-1:30pm, Titus Andronicus: We arrived early to see the lit-obsessed punkers play an energetic set to an early crowd covered in misty rain. They opened with a guitar-and-shrieking-only version of "Common People" which sadly, did not segue into a full band version. Learn it guys! Even without the knowledge that this band is from Central New Jersey, I could have spotted these enthusiastically dorky rock kids from a million miles away. They have a naive energy that the drummer from Times New Viking tries to produce but fails: every member of Titus Andronicus was flailing around, singing/mouthing/shouting every hysterically dramatic verse and chorus, regardless of whether they were mic'ed or it was necessary. They rarely looked cool or postured: even when lead singer Patrick Stickle, donned in a Batman circa '89 t shirt, grabbed a flag tied to a microphone stand to wave it around, he struggled with it as he couldn't seem to stop jumping around long enough to properly operate it. They closed with their anthems, "Titus Andronicus" and "Fear and Loathing in Mahway, NJ" before Jay Reatard kicked things off on the opposing stage. Melodic and raw, earnest and endearing, Titus Andronicus somehow managed to live up to the expectations set by their excellent debut album, "The Airing Of Grievances" without playing it's best song, "Arms Against Atrophy."

1:30-2:00pm, Jay Reatard: As I previously mentioned, the jumbotron screens enabled festival goers to watch the other main stage band while camping out to get a good spot for a band you'd prefer to see. For example, while I remained at the Connector Stage waiting for Caribou to blow my mind, I got to suffer through Jay Reatard's disastrously boring set of recycled punk/rock/guitar jams. I'd already tried digesting Jay a few times beforehand and failed to see the fuss. Personally, from everything I've read and heard of him, I think he is a bit of posturing noob. Donning flying-v guitars and long hair, Jay and his band tonelessly shouted through song after song, making sure to announce the song title obnoxiously before bursting into a song that needed no introduction. Example: Jay screams "RED MEAT." Bands kicks in. First line "RED MEAT! GUNNA EAT YOU ALIVE!" Avoid at all costs.

2:00-2:40pm, Caribou: After enduring Mr. Reatard and more drizzling, Dan Snaith and Caribou took the stage. Although I've never had the chance to pontificate about them on the Siblog, Caribou has quietly become one of my favourite bands of the last few years. Last year's Andorra is a gorgeous and intricate set of songs that strips away the krautrock/hip hop influences that dominated The Milk of Human Kindness to achieve even greater success. While they were initially plagued by sound problems, they opened with an extended version of "Sundialing" segueing perfectly into a bass heavy version of "Melody Day." Every member of Caribou plays such a huge role into recreating the fragile yet dense songs that Mr. Snaith hones in the studio, but none more than Brad Weber, Caribou's drummer. Most of Caribou's finest moments are propelled by hard hitting percussive centers and thus by the time they played "After Hours," Dan (who also plays drums live) and Brad managed to find the hypnotic groove that makes them such a worthwhile and enduring live act.

2:45- 3:00pm, Icy Demons: We left the Caribou set a little early to catch Icy Demons. Hailing from Chicago/Philadelphia, Icy Demons are most notable for being Pow Pow's (drummer from Man Man) experimental side project featuring members of Need New Body. That is to say, a jazzy rock free form hybrid. Although I enjoyed their 2006 LP, Tears of a Clone, I did not find much of Icy Demons to be very enjoyable that Saturday afternoon. The songs were not experimental but were certainly free form: the female member of the band simply fanned herself while occasionally providing back up vocals. The whole affair had bad-world-music-band written all of over it and Pow Pow, who usually compels my attention during even the most distracting of Man Man's on-stage antics seemed content to play basic backbeats. Due to my love of Man Man, I am still looking forward to checking out their new record on Pow Pow's Obey Your Brain label.

3:00- 5:00pm, break time: After Icy Demons, we took a few minutes to embrace the Pitchfork festival for all it's non-musical amenities, of which there are plenty. One of the many wonderful things about the Pitchfork Festival is that it manages to provide distractions that never seem unnatural to the music festival. Whether it be an old school record fair in a tent or booths littered with the premier indie labels hocking tote bags or a Whole Foods tent selling fresh organic produce, there didn't seem to be too much space wasted on corporations hocking lifestyle items or collecting demographic information. Chipolte, arguably the biggest sponsor, didn't have food available; all the food vendors were exclusively local businesses. Both Siblogs purchased Secretly Canadian t-shirts and Matt Siblog harassed many a record label booth with questions about their least popular artists. We also managed to lay low and avoid the Rip Van Winkle-esque acappella stylings of (who knew!) the weekend's most beloved band, Fleet Foxes. Around 4:30 we began to mosy over to the Aluminum Stage where the weekend's most polarizing band, Vampire Weekend were to take the stage.

5:00-5:50pm, Vampire Weekend: The funniest part of Vampire Weekend is watching people attempt to dislike them. As they came on we watched people nervously look around to see if anyone else was singing along. God knows that we were! For all the Fleet Foxes Kool Aid being guzzled down by the indie-masses (whatever the fuck THAT means) I cannot understand the resistance of these same masses to embrace Vampire Weekend. By the end of their set, the audience warmed nicely to the crystal-clean pop but not without making the young men earn it a bit. Even the band seemed to acknowledge their own fear of the situation, with singer/ham/guitarist Ezra Koenig saying, "This is going much better than we anticipated." We also egged the audience to sing along with great success on songs such as "A-Punk" and "One (Blake's Got a New Face)." The latter, their S/T album's sole clunker, takes on a whole new context live when the audience provides the call and response vocals, negating the one scuff in the band's glossy repertoire. They played one new tune which antagonistically snags the staccato guitar line from Paul Simon's "Crazy Love, pt. 2" while still putting their own anxious spin on it by playing a bubbly drum sample over it. Set highlight: During "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa" the very pretty, very preppy, very clean (a telltale sign of a late day/rain avoiding entrance) girl in front of me was a bit embarrassed when Ezra barked out the chorus, with an emphasis on the line, "Do you wanna fuck like you know I do?" remarking that she never knew that was the lyric.

6:00- 6:50pm, !!!: New York dance punk legends (is it too soon?) !!! took the stage without an album to support and apparently, a hell of a lot to prove. Singer Nick Offer made a point to mention that even though !!! had one of lowest overall scores of the bands playing at the festival they remained one of the highest billed. Perhaps that is because none of those scores ever took !!!'s live show into account. It's a bit of a rock cliche, to remark that you need to see a band live, but hell, you need to see !!! live. Nic Offer's effeminate dance moves and the blistering dance-punk-house-funk musical hybrid that provides the basis for the aforementioned moves has been simmering for years and never fails to work the audience into a frenzy. The band primarily played tracks from last years under appreciated Myth Takes, but did manage to play one excellent new song that seemed to venture into a smoother, more R & B direction while maintaining the classic !!! dance groove. Oh and next time play your classic mayoral bashing hit!

6:50- 8:00pm, The Hold Steady: The Hold Steady went out as soon as !!! went off and seemed to play for an eternity. They started their set with their typical sloganeering: "Are you ready to build something this summer, Chicago?" Craig Finn, the plaid adorned non-singer for the Hold Steady asked the crowd. Oh jeez. I'm not sure what exactly the Hold Steady are building this summer but I know I'd like to be heading the demolition crew. Over the years my feelings for the Hold Steady have progressed as follows: appreciation (Almost Killed Me), adoration (Separation Sunday), disappointment (Boys and Girls in America) and now, utter disgust (Stay Positive). If building something involves empty sloganeering ("Let's all be part of something bigger!"), reminiscing about punk shows, suffocating self-referencing and name dropping that would put G-Unit to shame soundtracked by music that would be played at a state fair in North Carolina, I think I'll pass.

Sometimes I think their mass popularity confirms my worst suspicions about independent music (whatever the fuck THAT means): that the scene that was once created as a haven for weirdos has shifted 180 degrees and has been co-opted by the same types of people that marginalized those weirdos. Somewhere in the 90's it was universally decided that the automaton nature of the 80's was wrong and as a result the notion of appearing countercultural and unique became important from Generation X on down, resulting in an independent music scene that is swarmed with people who, if indie weren't so fashionable, would be marginalizing the people who would be involved in that scene whether it was fashionable or not, all in the name of seeking culture outside the "mainstream" (whatever the fuck THAT means). When their lead guitarist takes out a double guitar and everyone goes crazy, I'm not sure whether I hope they are being ironic or sincere but realize that this band isn't for me anymore. Adieu!

8:00-8:40pm, Jarvis Cocker: It would be redundant for me to point out the tall, lanky nature of the former Pulp frontman but it is so necessary to understand the appeal of Mr. Cocker's live performance. It is would be as if someone taught a robot every show stopping/butt shaking/sexy dance move and then that robot was transformed into a rag doll with pencil thin legs made of wax wearing George Burns' glasses before the performance of said dance moves. Much to the chagrin of the audience, Mr. Cocker does not play Pulp tunes and even went so far as to not play many songs from last year's underrated Jarvis. But the fact that Jarv opened with two new songs to rapturous applause is a good indicator of how well he can deliver them. A new song, "Caucasian Blues" had some exceptionally funny lyrics as did the John Peel dedicated, "Girls Like it Too." The one drawback to Mr. Cocker's songs is that much like post-Smiths solo Morrissey, most of the tunes have serviceable music backed by wry lyrics and thus, hearing them for the first time live can be a bit unsatisfying. Regardless, "Black Magic" was still a highlight even though I heard it as I was cutting across the grounds to sneak a peak at No Age.

8:45-9:05pm, No Age: For the uninformed No Age are two guys, one drummer and one guitarist. They play songs that oscillate between precious noise and fuzzy-as-hell pop music that manages to never stick in my head. Thus, I spent a few minutes watching a guitarist and a drummer play what sounded like demos someone would make for a band except that this is the band. I did manage to hear Nouns highlight, "Teen Creeps" but left to see which version of Animal Collective would be closing the first night of the festival.

9:05- 10:00pm, Animal Collective: The Siblog affiliates spent some time debating whether Animal Collective would "bring it" on Saturday night or whether they'd play dauntingly long musical segues and all new songs. While they didn't play a Rolling Stones-esque singles set (does AC even have singles, really?), Animal Collective naysayed everyone who thought they'd contrarily play a set of exclusively new songs for a mass of exhausted festival goers. The Collective weaved in and out of beautifully melodic passages, teasing the audience with musical hooks from popular songs before burying that hook until the song appeared. Around ten minutes into their set I could have swore I heard the chant from Panda Bear's "Comfy In Nautica" only to be rewarded with a face melting, slow light strobing version of the song later on. The Collective brought tasteful lights that complimented the music perfectly, without ever taking the focus away from the band. In addition to the Panda Bear favourite, which elicited shouts of joy from hundreds of yards away from the stage, the band played "Peacebone" and closed with an extended version of "Fireworks" which had audience members setting off their own noisemakers.