Pitchfork Music Festival 2009: Day 3 [Union Park; Chicago, IL]

[DAY 1 - DAY 2 - DAY 3]

I woke up Sunday morning feeling like I'd been dropped off a building. The thought of dragging myself to another nine-hour day of live music was looking about as attractive as the prospect of rubbing the soles of my feet in powdered glass and running a marathon. But where duty calls, I am powerless but to answer. I woke up early to catch a 9:30 AM mass at my local church (THERE, MOM, YOU CAN STOP WORRYING ABOUT IT NOW), grabbed an early lunch, and then headed out to Union Park for another foray into masochistic pleasure. Lousy as I felt, I was still excited. For all my bitching and grousing, Pitchfork is still the premier festival in Chicago. I mean, what else is there? Lollapalooza? At three times the price, I get to see Pitchfork's sloppy seconds from last year? No thanks. Everyone cool knows that Union Park is where it's all happening.

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- The Mae Shi

I showed too late to catch the beginning of The Mae Shi's set, which pisses me off because the part I caught was totally awesome. By the time I arrived, The Mae Shi had been joined by Chicago hip-hop duo Yeah Big and Kid Static, who put on an impromptu mini-set with live instrumentation provided by the Californian avant-punks. The sheer spontaneity of it alone was inspiring. The conglomerate closed their set by literally going into their iTunes and playing an MP3 of “Jubilation” while everyone up on stage took turns shouting the backing vocals into the mic. Getting ready to depart, the two emcees let out a plea: “Hey Pitchfork, will you please review our goddam album? We sent it to you.”

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- Dianogah

My spirits buoyed, I made my way over to the B stage where Chicago veterans Dianogah were doing an equipment check. In spite of their 15-year history, this year's festival seems to be the first taste of national recognition that the band has flirted with. That may have a little something to do with the three-piece's eclecticism. Their set careened all over the place, from crisp, mathy instrumental post-rock to Fugazi-esque Dischord-punk, to... well, a cover of George Harrison's “Dark Horse.” They were joined onstage towards the end by Rebecca Gates of Portland's Spinanes. She helped the band perform a tribute to the late Stephanie Morris, who had been singing and playing keyboard with the band for the past year and a half. Dianogah finished with a surreal, county-fair flourish by bringing their friends and family — including several small children — up on stage to provide backing vocals and play the kazoo to the song “Aw, My Goth.”

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- Killer Whales

Another Chicago band, The Killer Whales specialize in a brand of dance-punk jerry-rigged from whatever happens to be on-hand at the time: Afrobeat, Caribbean rhythms, even rockabilly. There's no doubt that this shirtless four-piece can set a dance-floor ablaze with their hyper-kinetic angular riffs and thumping percussion, but the grating falsetto yelp of the dual singers wears on the nerves. During their set, I met up with a friend and took her on a quick tour of the grounds.

I haven't spoken much about the festival area, but it's a very attractive layout. There are tents where independent labels and record shops can hock their wares, an artist's alley where fans can purchase original band art, and the best variety of food vendors any festival could hope for. Among the traditional outdoor fare, there was also German cuisine from The Berghoff, two booths selling vegetable curry, and a Whole Foods station offering fresh fruit to concert goers. (Maybe for next year they could work in a few more ice cream booths?) I helped myself to an Italian beef sandwich and a side of curry fries from Chicago's Abbey Pub, both of which totally hit the spot.

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- Japandroids

Following that much needed break, I rolled the dice and decided to go see The Japandroids over The Walkmen (at the B stage, yet again; seems like I couldn't get away from there). It's a decision I partially regret. Not to disparage the British Columbian duo, who were playing their first time in Chicago. In fact, the way their singer/guitar player thrashed around the stage, scaling amps and striking rock star poses, he made some of the festival's veterans look downright lazy. Nonetheless, based on the reviews that I'd been reading of Post-Nothing, I was expecting something a little dirtier and more visceral than the efficient, warmed-over garage rock that they offered. While they were burning through their last song, I got in position to watch Grizzly Bear on the A stage.

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- Grizzly Bear

Alright, so I'm probably not going to make a whole lot of friends here. I know Grizzly Bear is the greatest thing since accessory scarves for men, but, like TMT's Gumshoe, I just don't get it. I've got no shortage of weird, brainy rock in my collection, so I understand the appeal, but standing there in that open field, shoulder-to-shoulder with 30,000 other people and watching four guys with no stage presence tease hopelessly obscure harmonies out of a dulcimer just wasn't my idea of a good time. This sense of discontent could only have been amplified by the agonizing pai… er… muscle stress I was suffering after spending so many hours on my feet. Nevertheless, I stuck around long enough to make sure I had something to report.

Those of you eager to hear Grizzly Bear test drive the new material will be pleased to know that they leaned heavily on Veckatimest, kicking the whole shebang off with “Southern Point” and coming back to tracks like “All We Ask,” “Cheerleader,” and “Ready, Able.” The band was loud, louder I think than anyone else that weekend. Edward Droste pieced together a series of ghostly harmonies and otherworldly sounds from his palate of guitar noise, woodwinds, and electronic vocal filters, but it was the band's driving rhythm section that kept it all tethered to the ground and crowd-ready. Nowhere was this more evident than in “Little Brother,” a song with an angular, wordless chorus that presages a huge instrumental flourish at the end. The band gets extra points for keeping their cool in the face of malfunctioning equipment. Some mysterious feedback forced them to play “Two Weeks” and “I Live with You” without their monitors. With two or three songs left in their set, I made my way over to the C stage in the hopes of getting within seeing distance of The Flaming Lips (Note: I did not succeed).

Thanks to Jake from Cleveland for helping me out with the set:

1. Southern Point
2. Cheerleader
3. Lullabye
4. Little Brother
5. Knife
6. Fine for Now
7. 2 Weeks
8. Ready, Able
9. I Live with You
10. Fix It
11. While You Wait for the Others
12. On a Neck, on a Spit

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- The Flaming Lips

After sitting in on a string of artists that I felt largely indifferent towards, I began to wonder to myself if my whole interest in independent music wasn't some kind of bizarre affectation. This kind of deep, soul-searching inquiry came to an abrupt halt, however, as the C stage's speakers sputtered to life. The sun was sinking behind the Chicago skyline, and the crowd basked in the light of the enormous LCD arch adorning the main stage. One-by-one, the band emerged from behind the screen as if from the luminous birth canal of a nude acid-vision woman lying on her back. Bringing up the rear, Wayne Coyne appeared on stage — trademark white suit and all — inside of a giant plastic bubble, which he walked fearlessly out into the crowd.

Throughout the show, there was a constant rain of confetti, a hail of orange and yellow balloons, and crew members stationed throughout the audience manning bubble machines. Stage right, the band was flanked by a group of women dressed in Panda headpieces and capes. Stage left, there was a group of men in plush frog costumes. It was a hallucinogenic display worthy of Burroughs.

The Flaming Lips were the only band outside of the Friday lineup participating in the Write the Night festivities, and if Coyne's attitude is any indication, it was not an altogether willing participation. Coyne repeatedly referred to a tattered, dog-eared stack of papers in his hand that supposedly showed the results of the fan's votes, choosing songs from the list seemingly at random (they played "Bad Days" claiming it was #66 on the list) or playing brand new songs in blatant defiance of the rules. Still, he touched on a number of fan favorites, including dramatic re-imaginings “Flight Test” and “Yoshimi,” reconstructed as an acoustic sing-along and a lullaby, respectively. The heaviest hitters were, of course, saved for last, a vital one-two punch of the band's 1993 break-through single “She Don't Use Jelly,” and the perennial favorite (and #1 song on the list) “Do You Realize??” Some people hung by the stage in hopes of an encore, but, alas, city noise ordinance wouldn't allow for it.

Setlist:

1. Intro
2. Race for the Prize
3. Silver Trembling Hands
4. Bad Days
5. Enthusiasm for Life Defeats Existential Fear
6. The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song
7. Flight Test
8. Convinced of the Hex
9. Mountainside
10.Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, pt 1
11. She Don't Use Jelly
12. Do You Realize??

Little by little, the great mass of steaming bodies made its way out of the park and towards whatever form of mass transit had brought them there. By the time I reach the street, my body is a wreck. My feet are screaming at me every step I take; there's a dull, persistent ache spreading up the small of my back. I'm flat exhausted, and I have to go to work the next day. I can't wait to do this again next year.

[DAY 1 - DAY 2 - DAY 3]

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