Pitchfork Music Festival 2024 Chicago - Day Two
Another beautiful day. Another Chicago trio opening up the festivities. Whereas Friday’s opener Black Duck had years of experience constructing their cosmic jazz ambiance, Lifeguard were young bucks with an earthy growl that grew into a phenomenal feast for the ears. Guitarist Kai Slater was restricted by a ankle injury, but even seated, managed to pull off a spectacular series of gloriously grungy solos while bassist/guitarist Asher Case and drummer Isaac Lowenstein pushed each tune into overdrive. They showcased a number of new songs that promised great things from these pithy indie songsmiths.
I was interested in hearing Water From Your Eyes being interviewed in the Visit Austin lounge, but was stopped in my tracks by the wonderful L’Rain. Her experimental textures colored by a talented band made a tantalizing tapestry that drew from many diverse sources for a delightfully undefinable sound that seeked to intrigue and suceeded in a refreshing set I was glad to have tasted.
I had seen Water From Your Eyes a month ago opening for Ratboys when singer Rachel Brown was suffering from laryngitis, so I was eager to hear what was happening with the band and if she had recovered. Apparently her throat issues were still raging and had become a sort of asthma that included coughing spells. Their interview was both interesting and awkward with a nice glimpse into a mysterious band.
Kara Jackson played a free campus at UW-Madison earlier this year with just an acoustic guitar. I was mesmerized and quickly became a fan of her lovely voice and songs, but when her set overlapped with Hotline TNT, a choice had to be made. I had missed an opportunity to see Hotline TNT at a small club in Madison and heard rave reviews of their show, so I thought it best not to turn up another opportunity. Another no-brainer, right? Then I saw Kara bring out her band and suddenly the stakes had changed. Forgoing a possible front row seat for Hotline I had to hear at least a few songs from Kara fleshed out with keyboards, bass and violin. She was divine and as personable on a big stage as she was in a smaller venue.
Although I’m not sure if I buy that Hotline TNT had never heard of Pitchfork until the day before, their low-key insolence personified a delicious devil-may-care attitude. Bashing guitars, thrashing bass and drums and outspoken vocals brought a well-stocked rock vibe to the secluded Blue Stage.
My second conflict of the day came with overlapping sets from Wednesday and Water From Your Eyes. I had seen Wednesday band memeber MJ Lenderman deliver a terrific show last year and had to decide between a laidback alt-country feel or an alienated alt-pop aura. I went with alien.
Obviously hindered by singer Rachel Brown’s throat issues (who she diagnosed as karmic vengeance for having snuck into Pitchfork ten years earlier), Water From The Eyes still put on an wonderfully agressive concert. A lot had to do with guitarist Nate Amos’ six-string wizardry. Bolstered by drums and a second guitar, the computer-aided act was a churning mercenary that took no prisoners while somehow making it all seem dreamy.
I did manage to catch the last three songs from Wednesday and wished I could have seen more. The crowd loved them and deservedly so, as they brought their truly invigorating, amplified Americana to the Windy City. I took consolation over missing most of their set with a wonderful interview from Wednesday’s singer-songwriter Karly Hartzman in the Visit Austin lounge literally minutes after the band finished their performance. She was charming and open and apparently a big Sopranos fan.
Back to the Blue Stage, I went for the punks rather than the pop stars deciding to see Bratmobile and UNWOUND instead of Jessie Ware and Carly Rae Jespen. Even though Pitchfork is a nice and small, very manageable festival I still enjoy the somewhat intimate Blue Stage over the larger crowds by stages Red and Green.
Never was this more apparent than when Bratmobile hit the stage. Chatting and palling with bandmates and the crowd, singer Allison Wolfe shimmied and shook, a vision in purple sequin. Supplemented by riot grrrl all-stars Rose Melberg and Audrey Marrs (plus cohort Marty Key), Allison and drummer Molly Neuman brought old classics to life, prepping the crowd for several Bratmobile reissues expected later this fall.
Closing up the Blue Stage, post-hardcore legends UNWOUND radiated a marvelous menace with a diabolical dissonance driven by drummer Sara Lund. A well-oiled machine, the quartet unleashed their two-guitar attack with zeal, knitting riffs with left-field bottle-rockets and viper-like bass. An astonishing display of poise and power.
I thought I had a pretty fulfilling Saturday at Pitchfork and was ready to make my way home when I walked through the crowd as Jamie xx was doing his thing. The crowd felt different, people were visibly happy and moving to the grooves. I started feeling the same and was soon drawn into an amazing performance. The big stageside video screens were turned off directing the crowd to focus on the light-drenched stage with a live video feed glitching to ecstatic dancers as banks of coordinated lights emphasized the incessant beats, teasing you into submission. The music was hypnotic, but the sampled messages got me hooked. “Don’t believe what you read in the Paper,” “Breathe,” “You are part of a bigger world.” Jamie’s exhortations and affirmations resonated in a modern world wrought by suspicions and manipulations. I arrived a skeptic and left a convert - more than ready to be part of the Dance Revolution.