Pitchfork Day 2: Wrap-up
(photo by Kate Gardiner/NewsHour)
And Yawnfork continues.
Sad to say, the first part of day two at the Pitchfork Music Festival has continued in the sleepy spirit of Friday, with nothing as yet to energize a sold-out crowd of 18,000 baking in the 92-degree heat.
Free Energy (not) (photo by Kate Gardiner/NewsHour)
Kicking thing off on the main stages at 1 p.m., the very ironically named Free Energy made a punch line of a description that also happens to be fact: The band is big in Minnesota (where it formed, though it’s now based in Philadelphia). The group is signed to DFA, the label co-founded by LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy, but it lacks the punch, drive, and originality of most of their labelmates—and certainly of Murphy’s own band—and its set of generic indie-rock laced with touches of ’70s AM rock might have been a treat on a quiet night at the Twin Cities’ 400 Bar, but it fell flat at Pitchfork.
The New Jersey quartet Real Estate was no better, and maybe even a little worse, since its 45-minute set felt three times that long. All chiming guitars and genteel, mid-tempo rhythms, the group recalled the least of England’s early ’90s shoegazer bands, but without the rhythmic drive that generally elevated even the most mundane of those groups.
And, no, I’m really not feeling especially grouchy this year. I’ve just been waiting for the sort of discoveries Pitchfork has always provided in the past, and with the exception of Robyn on Friday, nothing so far has even come close.
Delorean (photo by Kate Gardiner/NewsHour)
At least Barcelona’s Delorean worked its own mellow, electronic grooves effectively into a pleasant if not electrifying mid-afternoon trance-out breather. But midway through its set, I was nonetheless counting the minutes until Titus Andronicus, one of those “wow” revelations that blew me away the first time it appeared at Pitchfork in 2008.
(photo by Kate Gardiner/NewsHour)
The excitement finally kicked in on day two with a rollicking set by New Jersey’s Titus Andronicus, who were one of the highlights of the festival two years ago.
In 2008, touring in support of their first album “The Airing of Grievances,” Patrick Stickles and his bandmates delivered an edgy set of twisted art-punk. With the release of their second album, the historical concept effort “The Monitor,” their sound has taken a turn toward simpler song structures with anthemic choruses and dramatic dynamic shifts—a sound, needless to say, ideally suited for motivating a bored, over-heated crowd in the wide-open spaces of a baseball field.
Patrick Stickles of Titus Andronicus (photo by Kate Gardiner/NewsHour)
Stickles was a less flamboyant frontman this time around, but the band’s bigger sound, made all the more powerful by the addition of horns, proved to be this festival’s second undeniable highlight, after Robyn on day one.
Raekwon (photo by Kate Gardiner/NewsHour)
Alas, the excitement level waned once more as Raekwon, one of the more energetic members of Staten Island’s legendary Wu-Tang Clan, started his set 20 minutes late. With his hype man intermittently taking the stage to trumpet his imminent arrival, many in the crowd assumed that rapper Corey Woods was simply being a prima donna, building suspense for his appearance. Then, when he finally did appear, he was plagued by dicey sound throughout the set.
In fact, Pitchfork’s Chris Kaskie said that both the delay and the sound problems were caused by a generator overheating in the brutal temperatures. UPDATED: Kaskie was wrong: Pitchfork Festival stage managers say the delay in starting the set was not on the festival’s end–no generator overheated–and that one of Raekwon’s posse in fact was having trouble booting up his laptop with the backing tracks.
Raekwon did seem to be trying hard to overcome the sound difficulties and the sketchy pacing of the set with extra energy, but the show was over before he ever had a chance to get in front of these obstacles.
Jon Spencer (photo by Kate Gardiner/NewsHour)
And then it was time for the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Or, I should say, in the ever-annoying, super-hypberbolic manner of the band’s titular leader, THE BLOOOOOOS EXPLOSION!!!
In sorry contrast to Spencer’s first, legendary indie-rock combo Pussy Galore, which got the mix of blues grit, garage grunge, and goofy rock camp exactly right, the Blues Explosion, despite the exquisite playing of guitarist Judah Bauer and drummer Russell Simins, always had a relationship to the music it claimed to love that bordered on blackface parody. While the band’s guitar blow-outs and rolling rhythms were as ferocious as ever, that quality remained as the reunited combo took the stage in Union Park, and, as in the past, it made it difficult to totally lose yourself in the noise.
Wolf Parade (photo by Kate Gardiner/NewsHour)
Playing the invigorating set of fractured but high-energy art-pop that Modest Mouse should have given us while closing things out on Friday, Montreal’s Wolf Parade delivered on the promise of its recent third album “Expo 86”—its best, in my opinion, though I seem to be in the minority among the band’s fans. As singers and songwriters Dan Boeckner and Spencer Krug traded off in leading the quartet, he band delivered one propulsive anthem after another, injecting a very welcome dose of melodic energy.
Sadly, things slowed down again during the penultimate set as dusk and a slight breeze finally replaced the day’s oppressive heat while Animal Collective’s Panda Bear, a.k.a. Noah Lennox, played a way-too-long set of drony trance grooves punctuated by atonal yelps, yodels, and the occasional wounded whale noise. If this sort of thing had been delivered by a third-tier Grateful Dead offshoot band on one of the smaller stages at Bonnaroo, the Pitchfork crowd would have scoffed in derision. But since it was Pitchfork-endorsed, most stood politely and soaked it in, though there was a steady stream of refugees fleeing for the other stages, the food lines, or the Porta-Potties.
Without the aid of mind-altering substances, Panda Bear’s performance was an indulgent, unlistenable mess. With them, it may well have prompted the sort of bad trip that would lead someone to believe that they could fly off the steeple of First Baptist Congregational Church across Ashland Avenue from Union Park.
Then, at last, it was time for the most anticipated set of the day: Saturday headliners LCD Soundsystem, the transcendent/art-punk dance-pop band led by producer, independent label co-founder, unlikely vocalist and front man, and all-around music obsessive James Murphy.
James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem (photo by Kate Gardiner/NewsHour)
Driven by the relentless grooves hammered out on bass, drums, an array of percussion (heavy on the cowbell), and vintage ’80s Syndrums, LCD Soundsystem’s set mixed longer dance grooves with concise and unforgettable singles such as “Drunk Girls” and “Daft Punk is Playing at My House.” The group started strong, and the intensity built and built as the set progressed and the giant disco ball hung over the stage shot shafts of light across the field.
Still, as great as the band was, the mediocrity of much of what preceded it on the first two days prompted one to wonder if Pitchfork ultimately means as much in 2010 as it did earlier in the decade.
LCD Soundsystem opened with a tune called “Us v Them” that can be heard as an ode to the sort of underground that existed in the late’70s and early’80s, and which formed Murphy’s aesthetic and worldview. It was a time when real music fanatics defined themselves—and the world—by the sounds they loved most. And those who considered it noise? Well, they were the enemy, pure and simple.
“Us and them/Over and over again,” Murphy chanted at the climax of the song. It’s hard to imagine many of the acts of the last two days—Sharon Van Etten or the Tallest Man on Earth; Free Energy, Real Estate, or Panda Bear—inspiring that kind of passion, prompting fans to draw a line in the sand with them and the music they love on one side and the rest of the world on the other.
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You sir are decidedly on the “them” side of this festival. “Yawnfork” is a Pun deserving only a 3.0, decidedly un-”best new pun” worthy. Sorry its so hot and you feel cranky all day.
No mention of Freddie Gibbs? He was a highlight of a mediocre day.
What about Bear in Heaven? They were really good.
I just posted this response on stereogum, who quoted your article while posting new Panda Bear vid from p4k. the last time I wrote a long response to something I disagreed with you on, I was pretty ridiculous and combative. I was also sixteen, so maybe second time’s the charm
**
It doesn’t matter whether it’s pitchfork-endorsed. Plenty of people I personally know were more than willing to voice their intense displeasure at Panda Bear this year, Animal Collective last year at Lolla, and at p4k the year before that. Look at the internets!
It’s like no one can have a p4kfest review without a snarky aside about all the imaginary people unworthy of being there as they are. ACTUALLY, speaking of pitchfork-there’s a great discussion of this kind of thinking in their Poptimist column
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“We project ideas of not listening the right way or for the right reasons– calling into being the “hipster,” the “rockist,” the “fangirl.” The implied contrast is to our own, naturally superior, modes of consumption. After all it’s easier to suggest people fit into some kind of straw man category– posers, ideologues, undiscerning bobbleheads– than to risk ourselves by empathizing with what they hear or don’t hear in the music.
At its worst all the projection deadens the conversation around music– turns it into a squabble of invented factions.”
WAY 2 SKEW, IF NOT OUTRIGHT KILL THE CONVO
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But anyway, it also doesn’t matter if they’re pitchfork-endorsed or not for a different reason-
I was waiting for Wolf Parade during PB’s set, and yeah, it felt interminable and I was damn near falling asleep on my feet but that’s beside the point. If you watch a video of AnCo from 2002, it is the same kind of experience except maybe with a mask on/off.
They’ve always done what they’ve wanted to do as a group and as individiduals and just because other people have thrown their expectations on them it doesn’t mean they’re going to change. And that’s really awesome, I think. And I think the people who insist that they should change deserve to get treated every time they and they and their friends (or notepad) rush to the front to hear My Girls or Bros. “No. Not even in the face of Armageddon. Never compromise.,” as freddy krueger would say.
I’m way more upset at the world that MM didn’t play any LCW tracks, lulz.
what a crabby review, this guy totally needs to:
1. get over himself
2. get laid
ah, just saw the byline pic. #2 not happening.
JSBE is blackface? you give no good reason to in your brief trashing. It’s not a given. Jon enjoying himself too uncomfortable for your hipness level?
maybe if you weren’t so fat, you wouldn’t have had to complain about being “hot and sweaty” all day. just admit it, you were cranky because the food vendors ran out of corn dogs and elephant ears.
You gotta trust DeRo’s sterling taste. No one from Chicago is going to be fooled by this account.
Panda Bear’s set was amazing. You just have to know what you’re going to get when you go to his stage. Panda/Anco playing live is never going to be hit song after hit song no matter how much we wish it was. That in itself is one of the draws to the band/panda: they are a bit mysterious, every show is organic and new. Panda was up there trying new things, playing with sounds he used on Tomboy and creating something beautiful for the crowd. You have to come to the show appreciating what his act is, otherwise you really have no business being harsh on it. It’s either for you or it isn’t, that’s all you have to say. I don’t think you were in the right place to say it was an “indulgent, unlistenable mess.”
Sure, I walked out of there just like everyone else wishing he had played Bros, Comfy in Nautica, or anything old. But I didn’t realistically expect him to. He’s previewing his new album, so we’re going to get what he gives us. If you walk in with that attitude, you would enjoy his show a lot more.
Jim, in some aspects I agree with you, but in others I don’t.
Firstly, I think everyone here needs to take a step back. It’s perfectly reasonable if Jim doesn’t like some of the bands who played. Whether it’s due to musical tastes of the quality of their performance, it doesn’t matter really. It’s down to taste, and if you don’t like how a band sounds sometimes it can be difficult to appreciate them in a live environment.
“If this sort of thing had been delivered by a third-tier Grateful Dead offshoot band on one of the smaller stages at Bonnaroo, the Pitchfork crowd would have scoffed in derision. But since it was Pitchfork-endorsed, most stood politely and soaked it in, though there was a steady stream of refugees fleeing for the other stages, the food lines, or the Porta-Potties.”
Jim, I believe the above comments are difficult to justify. I have no doubt that there are plenty of people who genuinely enjoy that kind of music, and by generalising them it’s an insult to their tastes. That said, Pitchfork is now a very large influence on many people, and it is understandable that sometimes it does seem like people are merely following a crowd and liking what they’re told. In other words, if P4k says it’s good, then people like it (or are more willing to give it a go). Whilst this may be true in some instances, it’s an unfair comment to make on the whole.
“Still, as great as the band was, the mediocrity of much of what preceded it on the first two days prompted one to wonder if Pitchfork ultimately means as much in 2010 as it did earlier in the decade.”
I don’t know how relevant and popular Pitchfork used to be, but it could simply be a reflection of the conflict between your tastes and the tastes of current Pitchfork writers that you’re seeing? Let’s be honest, they’re probably appealing to a much different audience than they used to, and maybe their collective opinions just don’t coincide with yours anymore. They’re still helping new artists get out there, and they’re doing a good thing (regardless of the independence of the some of their readership).
It seems to me like your opinions about people liking a band because they’re “P4k-endorsed” is merely a consequence of P4k’s growing readership. The more people who know about P4k, the more people who discover music that P4k praise, the more people who may like, and consequentially support that music. I don’t think the brainwashing exercise is as bad as you seem to think it is. There will always be people who follow the crowd, don’t waste too much time hating.
This is what happens to aging music critics, folks. They try to resist their own encroaching irrelevance by needling fans of music they don’t care for and commenting on context and “pop culture” instead of actually discussing the music. They lose the LOVE of music that got ‘em into this line of work, and they use their institutionalized snark as a crutch, because disliking something is closer to credibility than loving something. Questioning the relevance of Pitchfork in 2010–how edgy of you, Jim.
You people using that byline pic as a means to retaliate are way more pathetic, though.
Cal,
Yes, sometimes aging critics will dismiss newer music artists and their followers when these acts fail to live up to the critic’s expectations. But I’d be more inclined to agree with you if DeRo systematically hated all new music that came his way, which doesn’t seem to be the case. (Although I’m with you in that bringing up his appearance in this context is indeed pathetic.)
Maybe, just maybe, the aging critic has heard enough music for such a lengthy period that he/she is less inclined to drink the Kool-Aid. Or are less ignorant thatn certain younger counterparts. Case in point: during the past decade plenty of critics, who should know better, went on and on about the purported fresh, innovative sound of bands that were in fact–knowingly or otherwise–rehashing the likes of U2′s “Two Hearts Beat As One”, for instance. I would bet that many of those who dug these bands would be appalled to know this. But as long as they ignore the true origins of the current flavor of the month’s sound they can relish the experience in their P4K-approved bubble.
And that’s where a statement like “If this sort of thing had been delivered by a third-tier Grateful Dead offshoot band on one of the smaller stages at Bonnaroo, the Pitchfork crowd would have scoffed in derision. But since it was Pitchfork-endorsed, most stood politely and soaked it in” comes from. Granted, this musical blind allegiance/sheep syndrome is nothing new, but now it’s P4K’s turn to endure that line of criticism and rightfully so.