Pitchfork 2009

I attended the first two nights of the Pitchfork Music Festival, which is held in Union Park, an otherwise anonymous patch of ground tucked between Ashland Avenue and the Lake Street El.

I am conflicted about these outdoor music fests. On the one hand, they get me out of the house and into the world of music. But I hate their casual nature, their I’m-in-it-for-the-long haul-so-let’s-bring-out-a-blanket-and-get-stoned mentality. I’m sorry, but I love music too much to hang with that kind of crap. There are plenty of occasions when I might want to stare mindlessly at the sky or talk with a friend, but being 50 feet from the stage is not one of those times. And, in my middle age, I have developed an almost complete intolerance for the reprobate behavior of oblivious jackasses.

That said, the lineup for Pitchfork this year was just too strong to pass up. I could have easily gone all three days. In fact, probably the two bands that I most wanted to see, The Thermals and Vivian Girls, were playing on Sunday. But Melissa had to work that day, and we didn’t want to push our baby sitting welcome with her parents.

I caught eight bands over the two days, not counting the ones I only heard on the periphery. Here is my critique of these bands, rated from top to bottom:

1. The Jesus Lizard: I don’t think I’ve ever seen a band change the mood at an outdoor festival like The Jesus Lizard did Friday night. Before their set, it was all beach balls and harmony. If they started blasting Olivia Newton-John’s “Have You Ever Been Mellow?” over the loudspeakers, it wouldn’t have been out of place. Then The Jesus Lizard stepped on stage. The band banged out the opening chords to “Puss”, then David Yow leapt into the crowd and started in with his best yowl. Yow emerged a couple of minutes later, blood dripping from his mouth, a smile on his face. Next to me, a couple of increasingly nervous looking young girls with flowers in their hair hightailed it for the concession stands, but The Jesus Lizard seemed to be conjuring their own animal spirits to take the places of those not up for this kind of full frontal assault. About halfway through the set, some dude so out of his brain he could hardly stand bashed into me at full throttle. He was wearing a lavender shirt and women’s silk culottes. He flashed a smile at me, revealing stained yellow teeth that made me think that he must have just left his day job at the meth lab, apologized for “getting in my way”, and then rushed full-speed into another person in the crowd. The entire experience was electric, and Yow has to be the most intense middle-aged dude this side of Iggy Pop. Perhaps the most fun thing about this is that it came as a total surprise. I’d never been a member of the cult of The Jesus Lizard. The band has some great riffs, but most of their songs have almost no discernible melody, and I always thought David Yow was just another singer with indy rock disease, one in a long line of white guys trying to make up for his lack of singing chops with sheer enthusiasm. But I stand corrected. What I witnessed Friday night was one of the most intense, over-the-top performances by a band that I’ve ever had the privilege to experience. Thanks guys.

2. The National: I heard two great sets at Pitchfork, either of which alone were worth the price of admission. One was by The Jesus Lizard, and the other was by The National. I keep flip-flopping which one I liked the best, because each brought something entirely different to the table. For me, it is kind of a moral judgment. Do I prefer the intensity of the crazy punkers, reviving their old schtick for the uninitiated? Or would I rather hear a set by a band that I’ve seen before, one show among many in their ongoing coronation tour, but a band on their knife’s edge, at the peak of their powers and popularity? Man, I love The National, and Matt Berninger is probably the most magnetic front man in music today, but I think, if I could only be there for one of these sets, it would be The Jesus Lizard’s. First, the crowd was REALLY into The Jesus Lizard’s set, and the band and audience fed off one another. By contrast, during The National, a guy behind me kept trying to quip clever to his lady friend (“try“ being the operative word), which eventually drove me further towards the stage, where I could enjoy the set free from such distractions. And speaking of distractions, that Aussie fiddler player they tour with was driving me crazy with his head-bobbing, foot-stomping, seaside-inspired fun. “Watch out for scurvy, me matey!” I half-expected him to shout every time he approached a microphone. But the crowd ate it up. Which of course is why playing too many shows like this one is probably the best way to ruin a great band, because those cheers get subliminally stored, like Pavlov’s dog, until the band might as well be backing Bruce Springsteen. That said, The National remain a magical act. My favorite moments: When Berninger introduced “Green Gloves” as a love song and sang it so tenderly that you could almost forget it is about creeping into the homes of his friends and riffling through their shit; and hearing a new song, “Blood Buzz Ohio”, that was a revelation, tender yet powerful, which is just what makes the band so great.

3. Tortoise: I really like early Tortoise, everything through “TNT”. After that, they got a little jazzy for me. I prefer the early concept stuff, heavy on the electronics, where they are just tripping out on sounds rather than jamming on guitars. And the great thing about this set was that it featured a lot of that earlier music. I would have rather heard them play the same set at a smaller indoor club, like the Double Door, where everyone was grooving with what they were doing, but it was also fun to see them outdoors, with the storm clouds threatening overhead.

4. Beirut: I have a soft spot for soaring Balkan melodies. I’ve often wondered why some American pop star hadn’t thought of mining this rich vein of musical ideas. Well, now someone has. I love the accordion. I love the horns. Most of all, I love the music’s maudlin flair. Too often, when an American band kypes musical stylizations from some other part of the planet, they are more concerned with mimicking the superficial elements of the sound but totally ignore the music’s passion, it’s purpose, it’s soul (Vampire Weekend comes to mind, but the culprits are many). Thankfully, Zach Condon and company are swinging for the fences here, and their live show had moments of real beauty. Unfortunately, we spent most of the set standing next to a nearby stage, getting a good spot for the National, so I think that I need to see Beirut again in a more intimate setting. But this taste had me wanting more.

5. The Pains of Being Pure at Heart: So clean, so young, so poppy, in that 80’s, Teenage Fanclub-meets-the Psychedelic Furs kind of way, I immediately wanted to love these guys. Then I remembered the brief dalliance I had being a Dashboard Confessional fan after grooving on all the young girls screaming along with them at Lollapalooza a few years back, and I was put on guard. In the four years that I’ve done this blog, I’ve only regretted two of the entries, and my review of Dashboard Confessional is one of them because, upon further reflection, I must admit that Dashboard Confessional pretty much sucks. The Pains of Being Pure at Heart looked like well-scrubbed college kids, singing happy songs, so excited to be there, and I tried not to reflexively love them. Yes, they’ve got catchy bass lines, and that atmospheric, 4AD guitar fuzz is a cool sound, but both the male lead and female back-up singer really didn’t have much resonance, at least live, and all their songs were pretty much plowing the same narrow ground. So I kept telling myself at the time. But I’ve caught myself unconsciously humming “Young Adult Friction” several times in the past three days, so they must be doing something right. A bit of a guilty pleasure, certainly nothing original, but a pleasure nonetheless.

6. Built to Spill: I’ll start off by saying these guys were playing a solid set, and they had some catchy hooks, but after Jesus Lizard’s incendiary performance, it was kind of a drag to stand there and watch them slog through their show. Then Doug Martsch began one of his 5-minute guitar solos, and I made my way to the exit.

7. Lindstrom: Let me note that if this Norwegian trance beat composer was blasting his tunes in my backyard, I would probably have danced for hours. But a lot of this was way too hyper for the setting. It was like we were listening to a soundtrack for some 2nd tier 80’s action movie, like Rutger Hauer was about to burst on stage and kick Lindstrom in the groin.

8. Yo La Tengo: I’ve tried with this band, but I just don’t get it. The set list had been requested beforehand online by the audience, so I guess I can’t blame Yo La Tengo for the song selection. But there was a lot of generic rocking out that totally bored me. I’d occasionally perk up when they’d play one of their catchier songs, like “Stockholm Syndrome”. I was about to wind my way closer to the stage, to give them another chance, when Ira let loose with what had to be at least an 8-minute guitar solo, while the rest of the band kept repeating the same 3-note riff ad nauseum. This sent me scrambling away, figuring I’d get a good spot for the Jesus Lizard show. So I guess that I should thank Yo La Tengo for that.