Collage by Emily Ransom
Venus Zine 2009 Pitchfork Headquarters
Running coverage from the fest – check back frequently for updates!
By Selena Fragassi & Leah Urbom
Published: July 18th, 2009 | 1:15am
For day-by-day coverage of the 2009 Pitchfork Music Festival with images, please read individual articles.
For photos of the 2009 Pitchfork Music Festival, please visit Venus Zine's Flickr page
Day 3, Part 3: Sunday, July 19
By Leah Urbom
As the bright evening sun sliced through the clouds, shoegaze darling M83 (Anthony Gonzalez) graced the Aluminum Stage with backup band in tow — in the same time slot that Spiritualized played just one year earlier. That was a high-set bar, but the French band lived up to the hype with its atmospheric synth music. Though shamelessly indie pop, the drummer kept an impeccable beat, and Morgan Kibby — who contributed vocals to M83’s much-loved 2008 album, Saturdays = Youth (Mute Records) — sang beautifully, draped in a blue sequined top. Though having only recently joined Gonzalez, she was excited to play “Sitting,” a track from the self-titled M83 debut. Unfortunately, much of the audience at that point consisted of older Flaming Lips’ fans, and had no idea what was going on.
Opening on a strong note over at the Balance Stage, Brooklyn trio Vivian Girls played their popular track, “All the Time,” from their 2008 self-titled debut on the In the Red imprint. Fiery-haired bassist Kickball Katy backed up vocalist-guitarist Cassie Ramone with her siren wails as Ramone plaintively strummed her white guitar in an acid-washed denim jacket. Despite the style of their skuzzy, lo-fi rock, Vivian Girls could be heard clearly, with spot-on vocals (as spot-on as garage rock vocals can be, that is) and tight instrumentals.
Back out on the fields, Grizzly Bear lumbered on stage and proceeded to hibernate the first part of the set away. The psych-folk favorites were gracing the Pitchfork stage for the second time (the first being in 2007), but this time behind the new album, Veckatimest (Warp Records), which is a ‘60s-influenced, (partially) sun-filled venture into the group’s nu–Beach Boys tone. However, the set proved a little dull — minus the confetti being test-launched into the audience from the Aluminum Stage, which was being geared up for the Flaming Lips’ set later that evening. Rude festival etiquette? We think so.
The Flaming Lips were undoubtedly one of the most anticipated sets of the 2009 Pitchfork Music Festival. The headlining set took all day to prepare, with props galore to be found backstage, including hundreds of balloons and a gorilla suit. As the sun went down, the crowd increased in size and murmured excitedly, and a silhouetted image of an open-legged female appeared on the onstage screen. As the cartoon woman’s vagina began to flash rapidly, the shot closed in tighter on the light and, birthed from the screen, the Flaming Lips emerged to wild applause.
Not wasting any time, frontman Wayne Coyne immediately leapt into the audience, rolling around inside his infamous inflatable ball. Confetti was vomited from all corners of the stage, balloons were released from God knows where, and lights flashed so rapidly that the entire audience should have had a seizure. Coyne bounced around in his protective gerbil ball for a bit longer and eventually retreated back to the stage to deflate and emerge from the plastic sack.
“We played here at least 16 times in 1994,” proclaimed Coyne, “we owe our whole lives to you, Chicago!” Though the crowd went wild for his antics and local love, it was less responsive to the actual musical performance that the Lips gave, which seemed to irk Coyne. For a band with such a high reputation, the Flaming Lips put on a lackluster concert, glossed over with sensational elements — like private frog dancers and a person in a gorilla suit whose shoulders Coyne climbed on during the new song, “When She’s High,” after encouraging the entire audience to “make some animal noises.”
Bored with the set several songs in and lured backward by infectious dancehall beats that were noticeably booming into the intermissions of the Flaming Lips’ songs, it was time to head back to the Balance Stage forest to discover the hidden gem of the evening: the Very Best. And that they were. Putting on a raucous performance consisting of reggae, hip-hop, house, and Malawian jams, the Very Best managed to merge these influences with popular samples from such varied artists as M.I.A. (“Tengazako”) and Architecture In Helsinki (“Kamphopo”). Esau Mwamwaya kept the vocals jumping while Radioclit monitored the mix, and two energetic women provided backup vocals, one of whom danced joyously throughout the set in a vibrant green halter top and turban. The crowd was so hungry for more that the Very Best gave one of the only encores of the weekend — and ended up being the savior of the night.
Day 3, Part 2: Sunday, July 19
By Selena Fragassi
Like the other bands taking over the Aluminum Stage on Sunday, Blitzen Trapper succumbed to playing in front of the Flaming Lips’ lavish stage get-up, which could have served as another reminder of the day’s most buzzed-about act. However, the Portland Sub Pop act cemented their own thrilling performance with fast-paced, beat-poetry lyrics and contagious rhythm that inspired both onstage guitar kicks and audience clap-a-longs. Singer Eric Earley was in prime form on the twangy track, “Big Black Bird” and later, “Lady On the Water,” for which he used hand gestures to tell his melodic stories. Blitzen Trapper’s ‘70s rock and Nashville country influences would be perfect for a road trip or a Cameron Crowe soundtrack, with rambling jams that could keep anyone moving.
Stopping by the Saucony record-breaking area, the board displayed a Pitchfork fan as breaking the record for wearing the most temporary tattoos at one time (216) and listing the most lunch foods in one minute while jumping on a pogo stick (21).
Over at the CHIRP record fair, hungry sound-mongers were rifling through boxes of discounted records thrown about in $5 and half-off bins. Make no mistake, these were no slim pickins — the booths read like a Who’s Who of indie rock labels and included Thrill Jockey, Touch & Go, Sub Pop, Dead Oceans, Secretly Canadian, Polyvinyl, Drag City, Golden Age, and Sick Room — who promoted their name by dressing up a half-wasted mannequin in bloody doctor scrubs.
Taking a walk through the craft fair, one look could tell that it was full of kids’ clothes and toys, including the twisted creations of I’m Smitten, which featured kid-animal hybrid prints and photographs of giraffe mascots passed out in a forest. One man asked his wife, “Do you want to send her to school in this shirt?” and pointed to a onesie of a little girl dressed with reindeer antlers. The woman nodded giddily. There were also the typical craft fair items, such as nature-inspired jewelry, homemade cards, and a bouquet of flowery headbands — all of which were amazing purchases due to the last day’s markdowns.
Walking over the Connector Stage was like a scavenger hunt of the most bizarre finds — clumps of straight, brown hair on the ground, colorful blankets and backpacks from the concertgoers who had turned the park into a campground, and one guy who may have been dressed as the Hulk or the Jolly Green Giant. It was really anybody’s guess.
Pharoahe Monch brought Chicago to its feet mid-day, proclaiming “Hip-hop is officially in the house!” and proceeded to perform a set filled with soul-infused grooves. Lush samples that blended with the slick scratching on the turntables were provided by one of the DJs of The X-Ecutioners. But it was the strong-voiced female backup singer, clad in an emblazoned graphic T-shirt and ripped jeans, who stole the show — and proved herself the lady of the hour while belting out lyrics on “My Life.”
“Busta Rhymes told me that if you don’t have a crowd responding the way you want them to, you have to give it more energy — so let’s do this!” Pharoahe Monch shouted. Energy they did provide, and their big-beat set was another prime example of the bold variety at this year’s Pitchfork Fest.
Portland’s the Thermals were next on the Aluminum Stage and featured a trio of jiving garage rockers that were knee-deep in covers, from Sonic Youth to the Breeders and even Nirvana. Bassist Kathy Foster was a sweet surprise, her mop of curls bouncing around as she did jumping jacks while singer-guitarist Hutch Harris graced the floor with his axe. Their original material was just as impressive as the covers, and for the first time in the fest, Harris’ vocals were actually clear enough to hear enunciated words.
Day 3, Part 1: Sunday, July 19
By Leah Urbom
The third and final day of the 2009 Pitchfork Music Festival really kicked off when Glasgow’s Frightened Rabbit hopped onto the Connector Stage. The Rabbits showed some Chicago love a few songs in as frontman Scott Hutchison said, “We’re trying to see how many times we can play this place in 12 months. I think we’ve played here more than we’ve played Glasgow,” before launching into the catchy “Good Arms vs. Bad Arms” from the group’s 2008 sleeper hit, Midnight Organ Fight (Fat Cat Records).
Looking a tad more relaxed in the open-air setting, Hutchison frenetically strummed his guitar along to the equally anxious songs, and then moved to keyboard for a pared-down version of “The Twist,” his voice cracking with the strain of festival singing. By the time the group hit “Heads Roll Off,” however, it seemed that the weary travelers might have fallen victim to the plethora of sound issues that faced the 2009 Pitchfork Festival, and it sounded more like the rhythm had rolled off. But the quartet pulled it back together near close with a tightened-up version of “The Greys,” from their 2007 debut, Sing the Greys (Fat Cat).
As foreigners hypnotized the fields, hometown band Dianogah treated the Balance Stage audience to hefty doses of its post-rock. Despite the lighthearted antics of an audience member clad in a banana suit, the group was more serious in light of the recent death of vocalist-guitarist-keyboardist Stephanie Morris — who joined the group slightly before the 2008 album, qhnnnl. The members of Dianogah considered their Pitchfork set to be a tribute to Morris, and invited a selection of their Chicago friends up on stage to join the performance.
Day 2, Part 3: Saturday, July 18
By Selena Fragassi
Saturday evening was a full-on production, kicking off with the orchestral beauty of New Mexico’s traveling band, Beirut, whose performance could be likened to a border-bending foreign affair. The nearly 10-man strong band was at full power with a lavish horn section of salutary trumpets, an accordion, drums, harmonicas, upright bass, xylophone, and other random accessory pieces that brought out the band’s “American gypsy meets European polka” sound. Reminiscent of DeVotchKa’s grandiose delivery, the difference in Beirut is brainchild Zach Condon, whose 23 years underestimate his lush Morrissey-style vocal chops and slick arrangements. Holding a gladiola stalk in between his teeth, the dreamy Condon looked ready to tango during “Postcards From Italy” and later, on “Nantes,” and there was nary a girl (or boy) in the crowd who didn’t want to take his hand.
The high-spirited revelry continued with Brooklyn’s the National, whose set might as well have been a part of Friday’s “Write the Night” feature as songs like “Start a War” and “Mistaken For Strangers” prompted mass sing-a-longs in pockets all around the park. Like Built To Spill the night before, the National brought the day to a close with a tempered set of soft hymns, but did so with girth and polish, which worked to flatter their nearly decade-long catalogue. Throughout a spastically light show, singer Matt Berninger gracefully floated across stage, his airy vocals spoon-fed with rich piano flavor on tracks like “Secret Meeting” and “29 Years.” A dance party was calling, though, on the other side of the park as the Black Lips took to the stage late and proved that they had saved the best for last.
The Atlanta band gave the crowd much-needed energy shots as they ripped through a set ripe with poppy, ‘50s doo-wop and bluesy rockabilly notes that inspired quite a few beers and people to fly over fences just to get closer to the celebration. Many of the songs were introduced by samples, including a ghostly track that added a spooky feel to the dark of the night. The audience was hosted by this cast of bandits who rebelled against the peaceful mores set by the other closing bands of the fest. “We’re all trying to be friends here,” chimed lead singer Cole Alexander, commenting on the overwhelming smell of weed filling the air. And he was right — by the end of a successful Day Two, you could feel the love around the park as people went home satisfied and excited to wake up for the final day.
Day 2, Part 2: Saturday, July 18
By Leah Urbom
Over on the Connector Stage, Brooklyn’s Yeasayer rocked and wowed the large field crowds with sass and favorites like “Tightrope,” from this year’s hit compilation album, Dark Was the Night (4ad Records), as well as songs from the group’s 2007 release, All Hour Cymbals (We Are Free/ Secretly Canadian).
Meanwhile, back at the Balance Stage (and absorbing the negative effects of the broken barricade situation) San Diego lo-fi rock band Wavves' set was pushed back considerably. As fans stood waiting, the sky opened up and showered the late afternoon crowd, prompting many to head for the hills. Once onstage, Wavves' muted and distorted sound didn't carry well over the noisy throng that was tucked into the enchanted forest surrounding the stage. Rather than a relaxed afternoon in the park with a lo-fi aesthetic, it sounded more like listening to your upstairs neighbor play the CD through your ceiling.
Following the set, an inebriated attendee managed to get himself lodged up a large tree near the stage. Luckily, after a bit of audience participation and a lot of coaxing, he was able to slide safely down to a round of applause. Right at that celebratory moment, Norway’s Lindstrøm began the first few notes of his set, bringing with him brightened skies and mellow beats as the crowd bopped and swayed to his electronic goodness. In contrast, over at the Aluminum Stage, DOOM donned a feather suit and a variety of masks, riling up the crowd as one of Pitchfork 2009’s only rap acts.
Day 2, Part 1: Saturday, July 18
By Selena Fragassi
Pitchfork Day Two started with new kids on the block, Cymbals Eat Guitars, an experimental year-old group from New York. “We’re really happy to be here … there’s a lot of people,” said the meek frontman, Joseph D’Agostino (who couldn’t be more than 20 years old), before he ripped off his sheep’s clothing to unveil growling guitar arrangements that you could sink your teeth into.
Although the name of the band may be Cymbals Eat Guitars, at this set, D’Agostino’s guitar devoured any percussion with long, wailing interludes that mimicked his passionate screaming. His radiating energy was enough to make you forget about not only the drums, but also the keyboards and bass behind him — and made D’Agostino have to catch his breath after fits of coughing. Although the band’s sound could mature beyond their tired teen angst formula, at least they’ve moved beyond their Guitar Hero days.
Seattle’s the Dutchess & the Duke relied more on a philosophy of simplicity to steal their side-stage show. Singer-guitarists Kimberly Morrison and Jesse Lortz relaxed in their T-shirt and jeans style, accessorized by sunglasses and pretty guitars. Now supported by a touring band, the Dutchess & the Dukes’ chic "California alt-country meets cowboy hipster" sound was sleepy yet polished on tracks like “Back To Me” from 2008’s She’s the Dutchess, He’s the Duke (Hardly Art).
Known for baptizing the crowd with blood, sweat, tears, and other mysterious bodily fluids, Fucked Up singer Damian “Pink Eye” Abraham was more subdued on the Pitchfork Aluminum Stage. The larger-than-life character started the set by crushing a Pepsi can on his forehead before he paced the stage, causing outright suspense for the crowd who awaited a horror show from the GG Allin wannabe.
The most he gave was a short feast on beach balls, which he ripped apart like an animal and spit back at the crowd before stuffing sunflowers in his shorts. Fucked Up was the first to really rip it open for Day Two (much like the Jesus Lizard on Day One) and the crowd once again gave their love back with overwhelming cheers and a raft of support for the obese Abraham, who proceeded to park it among the crowd for the rest of the set.
Although “Pink Eye” wasn’t exactly easy on the eyes, his move was disappointing, as it left only a few rows with a full-on view while the rest of us had to watch the less charismatic band left on stage. One exception was bassist Sandy Miranda, who played her instrument with precision and confidence amid the entourage of big ol’ sweaty men. The problem with Fucked Up is that, although “Pink Eye” is a bonafide performer, the sound has absolutely nothing to grab on to: a barren land of noise, void of rhythm and melody, leaving many to plead, “Just show me the blood already!”
In a quick mood change, the rain began to pour, and the masses moved toward The Pains Of Being Pure at Heart, whose fuzz pop sound was a welcome breather from the mayhem. “We got advice from ‘Pink Eye’ today,” said lead singer Kip Berman, “he said we should sound more like Weezer if we can … I agree.”
The band, whose adorable look could be pulled straight out of a John Hughes movie or Ralph Lauren ad, were enjoyable enough for a Saturday afternoon that finally felt more like summer. But the charm that oozes from their club dates was missing in the larger, outdoor setting, and keyboardist Peggy Wang-East seemed off-key, which is an unlikely occurrence for her. Halfway into their set, the temptation of the Bowerbirds won over many, who then traversed the grass over to the Balance Stage to catch the North Carolina duo's folk-infused set.
Real-life couple Beth Tacular and Phil Moore were engaging, if not heartwarming, on tracks like “Upper Air” and “Northern Lights,” which combined a Fleet Foxes-type, woodsy folk style with the dramatic chemistry of the Swell Season. Since many of their songs are inspired by the natural landscape of their home setting, the urban background was an interesting change of pace for Bowerbirds, even if it wasn’t always a successful medium for delivering their melodic poetry. Tacular, on accordion, was breathtaking — prompting one to wonder why this underrated instrument is not used more in today’s guitar-and-keyboard-heavy indie genre.
If Bowerbirds felt like a peaceful nature walk, then followers Ponytail were an exotic tour of the wild rainforest. The experimental Baltimore quartet reeked of art house, which is appropriate considering the group was rumored to have begun as an art project by a local poet. Fronted by the pint-sized, neon fabric–draped vocalist Molly Siegel — who had some of the strangest O-faces of the day — who was clearly having a ball delivering her chaotic growls, howls, and screeches as guitarist Dustin Wong chimed in, making the band sound like a pack of wild dogs. Although Ponytail hasn’t made much of a dent prior to Pitchfork, this set no doubt put them on the map with considerable indie cred, showered by fans that pushed the barricades so far that Siegel had to prompt them to make a peace circle instead.
Day 1: Friday, July 17
Union Park
Chicago, Illinois
It was a perfect night for “Autumn Sweaters” at Day One of the 2009 Pitchfork Music Festival. Both the unseasonably crisp, 68-degree weather and predictably breezy and effortless set of Yo La Tengo provided favorable conditions for the hundreds of indie scenesters who flocked to Chicago’s Union Park for the abbreviated night, featuring four of the biggest names of the weekend: Tortoise, the Jesus Lizard, Built To Spill, and the aforementioned New Jersey trio, who added an uplifting note to the dark chords of sky threatening to break beyond the stage.
Singer-guitarist Ira Kaplan and wife, drummer-vocalist Georgia Hubley, melted the stage with a searing chemistry that was lustfully completed by the ménage à trois of bassist James McNew. Although the speaker system had numerous kinks, the sounds that could be ironed out were worth the strained ears, with airy melodies that danced around Kaplan’s hard, fast, and out-of-control guitar playing. Twirling his instrument around in his nimble hands like a possessive bandleader, he marched on to glory with tracks like “Autumn Sweaters” and “Stockholm Syndrome,” which offered a glimpse into McNew’s vocal stylings.
It’s just a shame that the audience wasn’t as enthralled. Instead, they chose to focus on beach balls and baby dolls rather than the three multi-instrumentalists who juggled and shared keyboards, percussion, and guitar — an odd fact considering that the first night of Pitchfork, dubbed “Write the Night,” was devoted to audience you-call-it setlists. However, throughout the placid set, Yo La Tengo proved itself to be much more suited to intimate club spaces. Most notably as the group let a last-minute jam session linger on end, which actually became more repetitively boring than impressing.
On the way across the park to the Jesus Lizard’s anticipated return, there were just as many side attractions — if not sideshows. While some Pitchfork attendees bobbed for free merchandise in giant cardboard boxes, others lined up at the World Record–breaking booth to try and set records for such enthralling titles as the “Highest Number Of Consecutive David Lee Roth Kicks.” And still others took carnival-style pictures next to a caricatured cardboard cutout of Michael Jackson sacrificing baby “Blanket” to the wind.
It was the perfect set-up for the Jesus Lizard, who received a die-hard welcome after returning to its hometown stage with the original lineup after a 13-year-long drought. Singer David Yow was clearly the biggest freak of the night, at times baring his bloated belly, at others hula dancing or tuning imaginary knobs, and at his best: crowd-surfing through a mob of people who almost dropped him to a surefire future of even more head problems. “Thanks for your support,” he said sarcastically as he straddled a security guard to jump back onstage and de-robe yet again, pulling his local Hot Doug’s T-shirt over his head like a nun’s habit. Although the Jesus Lizard has aged considerably, the members proved they are still capable of pulling off a prime rock show as Yow screamed and whined his way through noteworthy numbers like “Bloody Mary,” “Fly On the Wall,” and “Monkey Trick.”
The last act of the night was also the biggest letdown — if not also the hairiest group to take the stage. Built To Spill’s catalogued history was lost on the crowd that stood in front of Pitchfork’s Friday night headlining act. Scruffy lead singer Doug Martsch wasted minutes of dead time tuning his whiskery guitar for unending jam sessions and road-rambling music that was stuck in an identity crisis of psychedelia and roving mix tapes. Dressed in his white T-shirt and baseball cap, he looked less like a rock star playing Pitchfork and more like a farmhand who should be holding a pitchfork. As he shook his leg incessantly to each new track, barely moving from his stronghold place in the center of the stage, Martsch was more than built to spill over, leaving a puddle of mess that was swept up with the clean finish of the night’s other hot acts — even if the weather didn’t play along.
Issue #35
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