Pitchfork Music Festival 2007

Another year, another packed swarm of thousands sardine into the shrinking Union Park on Chicago’s West Loop district. Every year, the indie webzine Pitchfork Media continues to expand their flagship festival in both attendance and offerings for fans.  From alternate foods and beverages for vegans to valued drunks, art collectibles to vinyl geeks, PF2K7 continues to give the people what they want without jacking the prices. The press conference mimicked a mute mass of anxious beavers around just to see the likes of Sonic Youth and GZA.  Those are two groups I never thought I’d put in the same sentence let alone piece.  Two polar acts of musical influence were only hours away from performing.  This does bring up a glaring issue that even readers of the blog-gone-mainstream site face daily. Some would argue that this years incarnation may have been too latte house fuck you digital world anti-establishment for its own good. The naysayer’s do have a valid study; PF2K7 is not without its schedule hindrance of bands known only to the basement record shop dwellers and those who found them by a six degree search into obscurity.  But isn’t that what this is all about?  To find the band that is a soon to be version of something already admired or instead – for a better argument – a new sound all together? For three days out of the year you can put down the snobbery commentary of the blatant over embellished editorials of Pitchfork and listen to bands they are helping become more than just a Flight of the Condors.  Take Nomo or Brightblack Morning Light – two acts that are adored only by costal if not local followings and would only see the light of day in your collection by means of a random mix that was seemingly forced upon the group in a cross country drive.  Not this weekend.

Still, you get the feeling this is an invite only swaray – as if there was a boardroom of which everyone got the chance to invite their favorite act.  Take Beach House for example – a much too melancholy affair for most taste but a much loved favorite of Pitchfork press.  But who am I to judge; I might as well be the equivalent to a New Kids On the Block fan club president when speaking of Oxford Collapse (who is also here).  But vague and murky waters is the Oz that controls the bands of Pitchfork and for lack of a better result – it works. 

Unfortunately, not everything worked this weekend. From the festival’s setup to the artists themselves, the three day event was a mixed bag of results. Sound stage issues ran rampant.  From poor sound quality to sometimes no sound at all, the issues were often and glaring.  Chicago’s own The Ponys’ sound went out within seconds of their first song and lasted for a large part of the tightly controlled 50 minutes set. Given, you will have these issues in an outdoor environment – I just didn’t expect them to continue every day.  Of course, on the contradictory side and more importantly, the bands themselves were often times a disappointment.  GZA was stellar, an often times troubled feat when performing live hip-hop and sampling outside the studio while much anticipated Sonic Youth stumbled through their set sounding awkwardly loose with an uncannily tedious Thurston Moore.  The New Pornographers offered a tight set that sounded as true to their uplifting nature as possible. Opposite was an Of Montreal that relied too heavily on stage theatrics and less on their polished sounds most fans came to hear.  The lineup felt like it had multiple holes that were never as apparent in previous incarnations – leaving most to wait for the early evening in order to hear something worth their time or even next years offering.

But overall, Pitchfork does succeed in its dedication to bring good under the radar music to the masses at little cost to the fans. Forty bands for only fifty dollars is practically a steal.  Compound this with ample facilities, the return of poster collector’s wet dream flea market Flagstock, and a content group of hipsters trying to outdo the next with the catchiest t-shirt slogan and you can’t cry too much. Yes, it would have been nice for a bit more diversity in a lineup that heavily lacked any urban or world music.  Sure, most of the acts were rather boring – even on paper.  And surely I am giving the organizers the benefit of the doubt that they spent majority of their time providing a more complete experience outside of music offering political and social booths alongside create your own shirts and button pressing how-to stands; arguably so much so that they forgot to check the talent. For me though, I still love the chance for my favorite bands to get attention outside my ranting and raving into the hearts of the guy wearing the thirtieth PBR tank top of the day.