2013 Pitchfork Music Festival

(Photo courtesy of Tonje Thilesen/ Pitchfork Media)














Day 1 of the trek into Chicago's Union Park began rather unceremoniously, wolfing down burgers at a suburban joint in Naperville and then hopping on the highway praying that somehow Second City traffic would be different that day (it wasn't). Parking (as it almost always is with concerts) was a nightmare, but my friend Adam and I managed to find a spot, and we were off to the festival. Our pace quickened when we heard the tender plucking of harp strings and Joanna Newsom's recognizable warble wafting through the night air. We carefully weaved through the crowd, but the work was for naught. We managed to catch the last half of "Sawdust & Diamonds," before Newsom bid the crowd adieu for the night. But there was still Björk to come down from on-high and salvage our waning expectations.

"Yeah, this is going to be weird," were the last words I managed to speak before Björk came out on stage. An extremely obvious statement on paper, but one you almost can't keep from uttering once Björk announces her presence on stage. The set itself was an adept mix of new and old, tracks like "One Day" from her Debut perched alongside the Tesla Coil spectacle of "Thunderbolt." An immediate highlight was "Jóga," the throat-shredding tale from Homogenic of a relationship heightened to a "state of emergency." Björk's powerhouse performance here especially masked every one of her 47 years. For all of the power a Björk concert conveys, Mother Nature is stronger still, and cut the set short after "Mutual Core." Without missing a beat, Björk put the weather panic into context, "It's calm.... I don't know. This wouldn't be much in Iceland, I can tell you that much..."

Day 2 was much less panic-stricken than Friday night's festivities. Parking was no longer an Arthurian quest and there was plenty of time to peruse the endless stacks of records available in the record tent. But there were still shows to see, so we jaunted over to the Blue stage to see Julia Holter in action. Holter's sound is impossible to pigeonhole; featuring the occasional sax squall, violin pluck, and tender piano figure, it's a yearning blend of: Grouper's quiet solitude, Joanna Newsom's whimsy, and any number of electronic influences. It was music better suited for midnight than high noon, but our premium spot under a shade tree was a welcome substitute.

Julia Holter

Next up was the fury of post-hardcore heroes ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead, which did not disappoint. The band's been blazing since 1998 and their midday performance letting everyone know the fire won't be dying any time soon. We then meandered over to see Savages, a melange of post-punk stylings and gothic overtones. After such raucous shows, refreshments were in order, and they came in the form of sweet heavenly nectar masked as lemonade. Sipping the last savory drops of sweet lemonade as we marched towards the red stage, only the bitterness was left clinging to my tongue for the start of Swans.

...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead

Count the number of times you've considered the angular motions of the Breeders or the antics of ...And You'll Know Us as "peaceful melodic breaks." I'll wait. Answer?- They don't exist, unless they're acting as buffers to the aural onslaught Swans unleash. The band trots out an amp as weathered as "singer" Michael Gira's voice. A lozenge would do him some good I think during the stormy "To Be Kind," but every nicotine filled blast is a prophetic warning to be heeded. The industrious clatter of the nearby L is drowned out by the death burble of the band. The howling wind and rain give way to the laser-guided buzzsaw blasts from bassist Chris Pravdica on "Oxygen." Gira's arms flutter around the stage like an apocalyptic tornado while clarinetist/percussionist Thor Harris stabs at the drums in the manner of a musically inclined Norman Bates. In the midst of all this chaos, Gira raises his hands towards the heavens and sends his band into a further ecstatic fit; a cult-leader mixed with Carlos Kleiber if there ever was one. Phil Puleo displays a Luddite proficiency on the drums and that rampage continues throughout 2012's title cut "The Seer." Harris takes to bashing the hell out of a wood block, hoping to send it into splinters. Gira circles into an unholy trinity with the other two guitar players sacrificing everyone's ear drums in the process. Before the show began, someone in the audience yelled out "TURN IT UP!" He got his wish. 

Swans

We were fortunate enough to catch some of The Breeder's anniversary set of the still-fresh Last Splash, a welcome trip down memory lane. "Cannonball" was the entry point for so much of my current musical fascinations and to hear it razing the ground of Union Park was one of the most memorable moments of the entire festival for me. My fandom must be called into question however as we decided to push on to find the best possible spot for Solange. It was a party from the first second of the show, "Some Things Never Seem To F***ing Work" rendered joyous in a live setting. Solange effortlessly strutted and glided across the stage throughout much of the set, nostalgically urging everyone to "turn this into a high school dance." "Losing You" was prefaced by a PSA from Solange to essentially enjoy every moment of the song without any interruptions from phones or peripheral distractions. Even though it's a song I've heard countless times since its initial debut, I tend to have an adverse reaction to the subtle melancholy of the song, but that wasn't the case live. Any suggestion of a stormy was blotted out by the song's sunny groove. 

Solange

From Solange, we sought out a spot for Belle & Sebastian, sitting down and waiting for the pithy chamber popsters to announce themselves. Soon enough, Stuart Murdoch (decked out in snow-white pants) and company took to the stage, beginning with the jokey "Judy is a D*** Slap." It was steady march through the discography, stopping off at "Piazza, New York Catcher" from Dear Catastrophe Waitress and the more recent "I Can See Your Future" from 2010's Write About Love. Murdoch was affable throughout the night, labeling himself and the band "your aunties and uncles." When the rain began to fall for a second night and you could see the golden lighting shining through the droplets, the subdued "Judy and Her Dream of Horses," became transcendent. It was a moment to make anyone "smile when you're down."

Belle & Sebastian

(Photo courtesy of Pitchfork Media) 




   
           









Day 3 began with gravelly rasp of local MC, who couldn't help but grin from ear-to-ear at the prospect of being in his hometown for a show. The defining moment was "The King" as clear of a definition of Tree's self-termed soultrap genre as you're likely to find. Adam and I stayed defiantly seated at the green stage for Killer Mike, hearing only the occasional riff or joke from Foxygen over at the nearby red stage. Soon enough, the wait was over and Mr. Michael Render was raging through "Big Beast" as the crowd screamed "hardcore g-s***" right back at him. It was insightful, bracing, and at times touching, Mike tearing up before the start of one song when he spoke of a Chicago woman who inspired him to become a community organizer. "RAP Music" was the ultimate in sermonizing, as I looked around the sweat-drenched crowd, smiling faces could be found throughout. In moments like this, any facade of showmanship or posturing disappeared, and all that was left behind was one man with a microphone; tearing down the city of Chicago and then building it back up.

 Killer Mike

 























After one-two-gut-punch of Mike and El-P we sought refuge back in the shade of the blue stage, and got lost in the folk-informed punk of Waxahatchee. It was an assured set, without time for a pause or even applause, Katie Crutchfield ran through her set eying the prize of the finish line. There were clear fans in the audience, and anyone that wasn't was converted by the time the last chord cut through the thick air.

Waxahatchee

   


















We crept back out from the shadows and into the sweltering heat as Yo La Tengo began. There's a reason this band is one of the most revered in all of "indie rock" and it's their insatiable appetite for innovation and invention. They traded seats and instruments early and often, and careened through a catalog stuffed with tender dream pop and droning noise rock. Ira Kaplan so barbarically mutilated his guitar throughout their performance, it was a small miracle there was anything left by the end.

Yo La Tengo

Lil B was up next and neither Adam nor I knew what to expect, other than an extremely based performance from "The Based God" himself. As his start time of 5:15 got closer and closer, a mini-panic started inside of me. "There's nothing set up on the stage," rumbled through my mind. Focusing on that conundrum was almost impossible with the screams of "swag" and "thank you Based God" that enveloped me. "How can he do a show with nothing on stage?" That question was quickly answered when Lil B walked out on stage to perhaps the most uproarious applause of the entire festival. The crowd cooked, moshed, (two people even hopped on my shoulders) and gleamed with excitement the entire time Lil B was out on stage, reverent of his every word. Picking a highlight or even naming off all the songs that were performed is an exercise in futility, similar to sifting through his seemingly infinite music library. This was a performance for the converted; those that already bask in the glow of "The Based God."

Lil B

 

      
















My back was in disrepair after Lil B and the rumbling in my stomach became cacophonous so I headed back to the food tents for recovery. Finding lemonade an appropriate substitute for water, I swilled down two in quick succession. Being the boost I needed, I met back up with Adam and we began jockeying for position at the green stage for R. Kelly. We caught the back-half of Toro y Moi laid-back funkified set which had every toe-tapping and head nodding by the end. Chaz Bundick could hardly contain himself behind his keyboard, getting lost in his lush swirling grooves.

Toro y Moi

Now all that was left was the wait for Mr. R. Kelly. At various times my eyes were affixed on the stage, trying to imagine what we could expect. Even the Sri Lankan Christmas (Adam's own pitch-perfect description) of M.I.A.'s genre-defying set couldn't distract anyone over at the green stage from the impending performance. The crowd's mettle was tested when the earworm of "Paper Planes" slithered through Union Park, but some still managed to avoid shooting along with the song's now legendary chorus. After a run-through of "Bad Girls" all that was left was Kells and the crowd couldn't wait. 

The stage was meticulously assembled and just when the impatience became palpable, a robotic voice announced over the loudspeaker "R-Minus 9 minutes to show time." A collective scream broke out and the countdown was on. "R-Minus 4 minutes," and Sam Cooke's "A Change Gonna Come" begins. I'm lost in that eternal croon for a time, but snap back and check the time. "R-Minus 30 seconds," and the scream becomes a seismic roar. "10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1," and then "Ignition" (Remix). Kelly didn't even break a sweat during the song and moved through the iconic song like it was just another piece of ephemera. It was that kind of show. He strutted through "Hotel," reimagined "Flashing Lights" for his own purposes, had the crowd "Slow Dance"-ing, and served up "Sex in the Kitchen" while avoiding so much as a chuckle. He soundtracked himself grabbing a towel to wipe sweat off (take that South Park) and steadily scooped up the entire crowd in the palm of his hand. Kelly's silky-smooth croon became a soulful wail as the set neared the end with "When A Woman Loves." By this point, the crowd hung onto his every word, mesmerized by the unparalleled showmanship on display. One song was noticeably absent for the first hour-plus, but "I Believe I Can Fly" arrive in full-flight. The spectacle was at its apex here, Kells again backed by a gospel choir while white balloon doves shot out into the night sky. Any inclination to dismiss the song as  overly sentimental is obliterated the moment you experience it live. The perceived schmaltz is soon replaced by treatise on living life to its fullest. When someone like Kelly has this much confidence in himself, there really is "nothing to" a concert of this magnitude. 

R. Kelly

Expect updated links and photos on this page as they become available on the Festival website page. I wanted to get out an initial draft to everyone while it was still relevant.                     

 
       

Top 20 Songs of 2013 (So Far) Part I

We're now more than halfway through the calendar, as the July heat begins to impose it's sweltering and unforgiving will throughout the country, so what better time than now to cool out, turn back the clocks a little bit, and revisit some of the top tracks from the year so far. Some of the tracks here are choice album cuts, powerful enough to stand alone but vital enough to be heard in their original context. Others are from burgeoning artists bubbling up from the underground. Still others are bonafide hits from artists who need no introduction. The one thing they are all have in common? They're some of the best songs to drop in 2013 and deserve to be heard. 

#20. "Young & Beautiful"- Lana Del Rey (The Great Gatsby OST)

Lana Del Rey and Gatsby director Baz Luhrmann are kindred spirits. Two artists with identifiable talent obscured by accusations of being too opulent and flashy for their own good. That said it's hard to imagine any Luhrmann film attracting the sort of vitriol LDR's 2012 SNL performance attracted, outlets like EW  wondering out-loud if it was "the worst performance ever." When debut Born to Die received reviews of "shallow and overwrought," and sounding like "a fake orgasm," Del Rey doubled down on the divisive material with Paradise, an EP that took her coy seductress personae and amplified it to deafening proportions. "Young & Beautiful" continues that sound, a thunderous bass threatening to shake the roof off the elegiac orchestra. Lyrically, Del Rey is as uncertain as ever, hopelessly wondering "will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?" On the page, you can dismiss the sentiment as shallowness of the worst kind, but Del Rey's breathless cooing assures sincerity. As much as we'd like to pretend that looks can't trump genuine love, in the minds of many they do. "Young & Beautiful" then is Del Rey's bracing for the day when heart & soul start to matter more than sight. 

#19. "Living Room"- Grouper (The Man Who Died in His Boat)

A good friend of mine once referred to Grouper's music as "quiet cries for attention that go unnoticed," as apt a summation of Grouper's hazy ambient drone as has ever been presented. These aren't cries for attention in a needy or narcissistic way, but genuine cries for help that waft up through your floorboards and float throughout the room. Grouper's music can be lovelorn, panic stricken, restless, and soul-searching. When you hear Liz Harris' wounded vocals crawling through the fog, you're hearing heartbreak on record. Closer "Living Room" is all-about restlessness and the aforementioned heartbreak that follows when you can't find a place to call your own. Harris' soft-strumming and reverb-heavy vocals are all you hear on the track, desperately searching for a place where "the spirit meets the skin," trying her best to "relate," to fit in and find a home. Before it's all over, Harris is forced to admit the charade of normalcy and sense of belonging are "getting harder and harder to fake." Cries for attention can often fall of deaf ears and few musicians capture those silent cries quiet like Grouper.

18. "Domo 23"- Tyler, the Creator (Wolf)

Any indications of Odd Future being relegated to also-ran status are obliterated the moment the first bass thud of "Domo 23" hits and induces heart palpitations in every living thing in its vicinity. "Yonkers" could be seen as the high-water mark, the Wolf Gang's antics at their most menacing and reprehensible. 2011 was far from the group's zenith, with 2012 yielding amongst other things a solid collabo tape and the runaway success of big brother Frankie's Channel Orange. All of that history ceases to exist when "Domo 23" struts out. You could be forgiven for thinking this song is the work of someone fresh out the gate, its brazen chorus evincing a youngblood with something to prove. No one would make the mistake though of thinking those churlish keyboards and nauseating synths, and that chorus of "f**k that Golf Wang," could belong to anyone not named Tyler. Here he's not courting controversy, but actively detailing it; referencing his "controversial" 2011 Pitchfork performance and remembering the roach-eating video that made him famous "b***h I ate one roach and I made a lot of money." And then there's the mentions of "midgets" and "it going down like Rodney King swimming lessons." OF didn't get here by playing nice or by the books, and "Domo 23" makes it known they don't plan on starting now.

#17. "Power Trip" ft. Miguel- J. Cole (Born Sinner)

J. Cole's proclivity is to place s**t-talking, chest-pumping songs alongside plaintive numbers where the last drop of Cole's charisma has been rung out. For every "Blow Up," or "Mr. Nice Watch," there's a track like "Too Deep For The Intro," or "Lost Ones," just around the corner, hanging its head in introspection. He's been accused of "overthinking" it at times, never content to let things exist as they are. The runaway success of Born Sinner's lead single "Power Trip" currently sitting at #20 on the Billboard charts acutely blends the former with latter, bringing in an understated Miguel vocal for the late-night ride. Just underneath that trunk-rattling bass beat, is a breezy little jazz number gently scratching the surface. Cole goes from being the one who's "totally bossed out," to breaking down and admitting, "she's got me where she want a n***a." The same hand he's holding a drink in, quivered in fear as he dropped off anonymous flowers to this "longest crush ever." When he's equating love with a drug, it's debilitating, he's hooked and can't quit cold turkey. Hearing that tremble in Cole's voice as he sings "I'm on one," you know why it is he's "up all night."

#16. "Where Are We Now?"- David Bowie (The Next Day)

Nothing about David Bowie's career has been easy. When he saw success with the folk-rock leaning Hunky Dory, he tossed it aside and adopted the pansexual personae of an Alien rockstar named Ziggy Stardust. Tiring of he being a glam rock god (or goddess), he dabbled in soul with Young Americans, before booking it to Berlin and crafting the monumental "Berlin Trilogy," with Brian Eno in tow. And that entire history, from Brixton to Potsdamer Platz is remembered in the pensive "Where Are We Now." Moving at a staid pace with late-night lounge music backing, Bowie doesn't go the aging rockstar route and question his own mortality, only the path that lead him to this point in his life. "Where are we now, where are we now? The moment you know, you know, you know," he promises with a shaky certainty in the chorus. As the drums grow bolder, Bowie becomes more resolute, "As long as there's sun, as long as there's sun. As long as there's rain, as long as there's rain. As long as there's fire, as long as there's fire. As long as there's me. as long as there's you." Life is riddled with uncertainty, but when you've been around as long as Bowie has; you find an answer or two along the way. 

 

#15. "Blood on the Leaves"- Kanye West (Yeezus)

When the beat finally drops on Yeezus centerpiece "Blood on the Leaves," it's instantly the most arresting moment on an album overrun with them. All the blood, guts, venom, and vitriol spill out through the speakers with the unholy horn section. "So let's get on with it," are the last words Kanye West summons up before that beat obliterates the haunting "Strange Fruit" sample West resurrected for a sordid tale of love and loss. The soulful Nina Simone cover of the Billie Holiday classic is the lingering remnant of "backpacking Kanye," rapping and "making soul beats just like you." The emotive robotics present on the track call back to the 808s phase and the christening of "unholy matrimony," recalls the hedonistic heights of MBDTF's "Hell of a Life." West over a near decade long career has proven incapable of running in place, and for all the talk of "look-backing" this track plows forward. So let's get on with it.

#14. "Perfect Form" ft. Shy Girls- Cyril Hahn (Single)

Up to this point Vancouver based producer Cyril Hahn had staked a claim on remixing cuts by pop royalty, in the case of "Touch My Body" he slowed them down and conversely turned up the sexual tense. Every coo, oh, and ah was rendered as a cloud of warm air to fog up a window on a cold winter night. That's not the case on "Perfect Form," his debut single which will drop September 9 via the PMR label. "Perfect Form" is utter euphoria for 4 straight minutes. Calculated slinking has been shed for a freewheeling dance-floor cut. Portland-artist Shy Girls (responsible for one of the great Indie R&B cuts of 2013 so far) provides the alluring vocals "she's got perfect form, I love it when she moves like that," with siren-like aptitude. On either side of the song, it's the only line he can muster, admitting "I'm so tongue-tied I don't even know my lines." Being this caught up in the now, who really has time to think?

#13. "Good Ass Intro"- Chance the Rapper (Acid Rap)

If a better suited title has been affixed to a track this year, I haven't seen it and doubt I will. The track pulls the double-duty of introducing the endlessly creative and innovative world of Chance's Acid Rap album and absolutely grooving. "Good Ass Intro" has more forward momentum than Chris Johnson in full-sprint, Chance only breaking for the enrapturing gospel breaks courtesy of BJ the Chicago Kid. The song's glowing horn section is soulful without ever sounding "dated," occasionally elevating Chance to the status of nouveau motivational speaker or perhaps preacher, "balancing on sporadicity and f***ing pure joy." He's not just celebrating, he's doing "motherf***ing money dances," and gleefully "kicking dirt on the shirts of lames." The first admission from Chance on the track is that "raps just makes me anxious," with something this confident it's hard to believe.  

#12. "The King"- Tree (Sunday School II: When Church Lets Out)

It doesn't take much to get lost in the novelty of "The King" once that chipmunk Elvis sample comes darting into the room. It's not everyday you hear a track from The King flipped for a rap-track, let alone one as tender and delicate as "Can't Help Falling In Love." Once the novelty of hearing the gravelly-voiced Tree (Chicago native and self-professed king of the soultrap movement) wears off, the move starts to make sense. Elvis' dark-blue croon on the original conveyed a sincerity with few peers in his discography, and Tree manages the same on this cut from his stunningly cohesive Sunday School II record. Where Elvis was begging for the object of his affection to grasp his hand, Tree's "telling my son I love him," wishing to "see my momma age," and detailing picturesque scenes of sitting in a church-pew singing. "I know who I am, and I ain't tryin' to find me," he proclaims in his signature rasp over booming drums in the first verse. Baring your soul's easier when you know yourself as well as Tree does.

#11. "I Miss You"- The xx (Live Cover)

The first time I heard the xx's cover of Beyoncé's "I Miss You" I froze in my tracks. I've grown accustomed to hearing the band's hushed odes to love and loss, but this was something else entirely. The original from the excellent 2011 record 4 was already simplistic, a metronomic drum ticking and slow rolling wave of synth all that existed to keep Beyoncé company. Here Romy Madley Croft's gentle guitar runs and Oliver Sim's rumbling bass accompany the silent sighs of desperation their lyrics convey. The starkness of Coexist highlights like "Angels" is bombastic in comparison to what's presented here. In a concert review of the band, I wrote that "their music plays out like a series of private conversations, and in a live venue it's almost voyeuristic to be hearing what they have to say." That rings true of "I Miss You," where Croft and Sim are seated directly across from one another, staring intensely into one another's eyes; nothing breaking their focus. They're seated only a few feet apart, but with the profound incredible cover of "I Miss You," they might as well be worlds away.

Like what you're seeing so far? Already sensing a snub or two? Think you have an idea of what will claim the number one spot? Then drop a comment below or tweet at @allfreshsounds to let your voice be heard. And look for the rest of the list to be unveiled on Friday.