These are the acts I was most excited to see. How’d they stack up to my expectations?
FRIDAY
Hundred Waters
Not nearly as strong as I’d hoped. Not particularly interesting, actually. A fair representation of their music, but not terribily exciting.
Score: -2 points
Nenah Cherry
A fireball. Out-did my expectations, unbelievably.
Score: +5 points
SZA
She had a lot of personality, and her voice was stronger and richer than her recordings indicate. But she was out-performed by her fellow divas this weekend.
Score: +1 point
Sharon Van Etten
A+! Last time I saw her (at Pitchfork) she was performing solo. With a great band backing her, her new songs really came to life.
Score: +3 points
Sun Kil Moon
Pretty much exactly what I expected, and that’s a good thing. Mr. Kozelek was droll, the music was downbeat, often sad. He made the sunny day melancholy.
Score: Dead even.
Beck
Clearly, Mr. Hansen read the Agit Reader on Friday afternoon. His set was unabashed entertainment. He kicked things off right with “Devil’s Haircut,” danced like a maniac, and dropped a funk-tastic version of “Get Real Paid.” He even played “Loser,” which I’d never heard live before. Beck played to win and he won me over.
Score: +4 points
FRIDAY SCORE: +11 points
SATURDAY
Ka
Ka started out nervous—he even admitted it. He was pretty introverted for most of his set. Even after he got friendly with the crowd, he had a hard time keeping the momentum going. Of course, his shadowy Brownsville beats-n-rhymes weren’t built for a sunny Saturday afternoon.
Score: -2 points
Wild Beasts
Ugh. They were certainly the most handsome boys and the festival, but they were dulls-ville, no two ways about it.
Score: -5 points
Cloud Nothings
It’s amazing how little Dylan Baldi actually does on-stage considering the reaction he gets. I guess the music just speaks for itself. They killed it as usual. Of course, now that I’ve seen them a few times, my expectations are rising. I’ll say this, they didn’t surprise me.
Score: +1 point
Pusha T
He started 20 minutes late, so his set was only 25 minutes long. And about half of his selections were not from his own albums. Yes, you’re friends with Kanye West, we get it. You’d think a guy whose album is called My Name Is My Name would be out to make a name for his own self.
Score: -3 points
Tune-Yards
She was dressed like my elementary school drama camp instructor, and her background singers were one of the highlights of the festival. That said, Merrill herself was surprisingly subdued, but then, she’s set that bar for energy pretty damn high.
Score: +1 point
Danny Brown
Mmmmmmm…… The kids went crazy for this, but Brown’s own eccentricities get lost on the larger stage, with the bigger beats, and the hypeman, and all the spectacle. I prefer him up close, warts and all. It’s a good show, sure, but not so special anymore.
Score: 0 points
(Note from the old guy: Hip-hop shows used to start with a DJ, playing records—or at least drum machines and MPCs—to get the crowd fired-up. Now, apparently, they start with some obnoxious asshole pressing play on his laptop. Sorry, kid, I can listen to A$AP Ferg at home, I’m not getting “turnt-up” just because you have Spotify on your Macbook.)
St. Vincent
Wow! Annie Clark clearly learned a few things from her time with David Byrne. There was a heavy dose of theater to this rock show. And few things were as gratifying as watching Ms. Clark shed her robo-femme persona for ripping guitar solos.
Score: +3 points
FKA Twigs
Whoa. I had high hopes, and FKA Twigs was still the best surprise of the weekend. She stalked the stage in full control of the crowd and let loose with an up-front sexuality that was brazen and alluring. She sounded great, she looked great. The winner by TKO.
Score: +5 points
SATURDAY SCORE: Goose egg.
SUNDAY
Perfect Pussy
Holy crap! They really tore it up. I was not expecting to have so much fun. I have no idea what she saying, but singer Meredith Graves was certainly getting a few things off her chest. This was a great way to start the day.
Score: +4 points
Deafheaven
This was different from what I expected. It was majestic and loud and dark and strangely uplifting, and you get all that from the record. But singer/screamer George Clarke has a persona that is somewhat disturbing. It’s difficult to describe, but it definitely had authoritarian overtones, even in the way he seemed to mockingly conduct the music during the instrumental portions. And he continually beckoned his audience to respond, like a disciplinarian of some sort. He did let the facade down a couple of times, and eventually you could tell he was enjoying himself. It was effective and memorable, and he’s really photogenic, but I definitely left wondering what it was all about.
Score: +2 points
Isaiah Rashad
He came out strong, and he’s technically far superior to his comrade in TDE, Schoolboy Q. But you can see why he’s had trouble breaking through: his personality is fairly muted compared to Schoolboy and his other labelmates, and he’s certainly nowhere near as charismatic as Danny Brown or Earl Sweatshirt. If I had to guess, based on this one performance, he’ll go down as a rapper’s rapper, like Masta Ace, or Kool G Rap, but never quite break on through.
Score: -2 points
Earl Sweatshirt
This dude was funny and lovable and he said a lot of awful things. Then he talked about his mom some. There was no drama, though he looked thin as a rail. What was most interesting was watching him transition from the goofball to the skilled rapper and back again. He’s not just fooling around, he’s really, really good.
Score: +2 points
Slowdive
I’m kinda lost for words, actually. I didn’t know this would be so beautiful. It helped that Rachel Goswell was in such a great mood, her smile as bright as her shiny, gold dress. Meanwhile, guitarist Christian Savill demonstrated why it was called shoegaze in the first place. The most important thing, of course, is that they sounded so, so, so great. This was the one and only set of the weekend that I just wanted to go on and on.
Score: +5 points
Kendrick Lamar
Kendrick performed like he had something to prove. That’s something I expected from his cohorts, but I didn’t expect to come quite so hard. Most impressive is that he did it on his own. He could’ve gone onstage with all his many buddies who were in Chicago for the weekend. There was all kinds of speculation about who he might bring out just for the surprise factor. In fact, he surprised everybody by doing the whole show solo. And honestly, up close, he looked tired. But that didn’t stop him.
Score: +2 points
SUNDAY SCORE: +13 points
Pitchfork gets bigger and bigger. I couldn’t believe how densely packed the fans were for Kendrick Lamar’s set. The crowd was so rowdy, marching into the photo pit felt like going to war, like being in Band of Brothers. Each year the group of well-curated innovators gets a little more over-shadowed by the mainstream entertainment. Beck is still an alternative star, as is Björk, and Pitchfork gets credit for booking Kendrick and his crew before most people knew who they were. That said, I couldn’t help but notice the preponderance of suburban kids who showed up just to get crazy to a cadre of rappers who rhyme about drinking, drugs, violence, sexual abuse, and little else. (At least when their onstage, they save the introspective stuff for the studio.) I’d never heard so many white kids shouting “nigga” before. And I’d never seen so many corners of the park covered in puke.
Also notable, the festival’s reliance on re-booking itself. Fully a third of this year’s bands had been featured in previous years of the fest. This makes some sense, with the festival in its ninth year. They’re exerting their influence as tastemakers, and reveling in it a bit, throwing a big party. The question is: Where do they go from here? Bigger definitely isn’t always better, and more slots for established stars means fewer spots for those with more on the line. For me, what the Pitchfork Music Festival has always done best is create a context for surprises to happen, and for artists to take a leap. I hope that doesn’t go away.
PITCHFORK SCORE: +22 points!!! Good work, Pitchfork.