Sweatfork: Day Two
By Tankboy in Arts & Entertainment on Aug 1, 2006 8:08PM
On the seventh day, God rested. While day two of the Pitchfork Music Festival fell upon the (Christian) seventh day, we decided to ignore His advice and attend anyway. Heavy storm clouds gathered earlier in the day, registering His disapproval, but this did not dissuade us from our intent of an early arrival so we could check out this whole Tapes ‘n Tapes thing for ourselves.
However, the quickly mounting omnipresent heat did keep us from getting there on time to see them. Or most of the early afternoon acts. A combination of an overloaded Sunday CTA system, and the heat wreaking havoc on one bus’ motor system, stretched out journey from Logan Square to Union Park past the 2.5 hour mark.
So, to say we were in a foul mood upon arrival would be an understatement. However Mr. Lif and Aesop Rock soon took our frown, turned it upside down, and convinced it to shake its booty within a matter of minutes. The duo’s buoyant set certainly helped raise our spirits while providing the widest outbreak of the dysrhythmic white-man booty shaking we’ve seen since Phish stopped touring. Maybe hipsters and hippies are more similar than we want to believe.
Which brings us to Devendra Banhart.
In the worst line-up snafu of the weekend, Mr. Banhart followed Mission Of Burma (more about them in a second) and this juxtaposition did Mr. Banhart no favors. Let us just say that the dangerous overlap on the indie rock and jam band community has found its center in Mr. Banhart and must not be allowed to travel any further. The fact that we had to suffer almost an hour of hippy-drippy aimless folk-(wanna-be-psych) rock was enough for us to begin tearing at our own long curly locks for fear we may be associated with Mr. Banhart or his fan base in some way.
Perhaps our reaction was so violent due the the fact that we were coming down off the high induced by Mission Of Burma’s aggressive set that made the rest of the (mostly younger) look like a bunch of flower waving wussies in the first place. Where we admired Ted Leo’s socially conscious conviction the day before, Mission Of Burma’s own take on the exact same subject proved far more blistering and inspirationally moving. The fact that three old men and their tape-manipulating sidekick still pack this much of a punch is enough to force any band not giving an effort of 110% to hang their heads in shame.
Speaking of hanging their head in shame, Glenn Kotche, we’re looking at you. Musical wankery does not automatically equal avant garde accomplishment.
Yo La Tengo turned in a serviceable if generally unmoving set. Whilst we do enjoy seeing the venerable trio live any time we have the chance, they perhaps trotted out too many new songs to take advantage of the crowd’s untapped potential.
Spoon followed with a set that allayed our fears that a larger setting might prove problematic for the bands tightly wound composition. However, aside from some early set sound / gear complications that plagued Britt Daniel, the band turned in an awe-inspiring set that might be THE set of the weekend as far as mass crowd satisfaction was concerned. (As far as THE SET OF THE WEEKEND PERIOD, we painfully admit that we missed the CSS show in the Biz 3 stage that seemed to have converted 98% of the festival’s attendance into immediate fans, although we have no idea how 16,660 people fit in that itty-bitty tent.)
The evening, and the festival, closed with a highly anticipated set from Os Mutantes. After an informal poll that proved our original assertion correct that most people could name-check the band but had never heard the music (props must be delivered to the survey participant in the first row who was the only one polled who knew some of the band’s recorded) we were ready to watch a crowd get schooled. Unfortunately, while the band’s enthusiasm was infectious, their actual musical delivery depended a tad too much on the crowd’s goodwill. While we kept waiting for that single crescendo that would reveal some glimpse of the group’s past glory, all we got was a frenetic set that, while fun, was less than historic in its impact.
All in all, we got what we expected, though. As far as outdoor concert events go; the crowd was sublime, the line-up was daring, and the organization was – for the most part – impressive. If the whole experience wasn’t as magical as last year’s Pitchfork-curated Intonation Festival, it did its best to match its vibe even if it didn’t reach the original’s heights. We are extremely curious to see what direction Pitchfork will take the festival next year, and we’re filled with Dick Ritchie inspired hope hope hope that next year will leave us just as satisfied and a bit more inspired.
Sweatfork: Day One is here.