I don’t want to start my festival coverage on a downer, but I think all of us can come together and agree that things aren’t great. With war and genocide on one side of the world and civil unrest at a tipping point in our backyards, there just doesn’t seem like a lot to celebrate right now. But as trashy and slimy as America has revealed itself to be over the past decade or so, I have to admit how grateful I am to have the option for enjoyment. Even while the rest of the world suffers. Maybe that’s hyperbolic but we’re far more privileged than we even know. With that angle in mind, I was super excited to have an elevated perspective on Pitchfork Music Festival 2024.
As a Chicago native, and consistent spectator (and this marking my 7th time covering Pitchfork Music Festival at this publication) I’ll be the first to admit that I really didn’t know what to make of this year’s lineup. Although there was plenty to love, I was shocked to see Black Pumas, Jamie XX, and Alanis Morissette as headliners. Not for their artistic ability or commonplace among Pitchfork readers, but for their air of broad safety. No matter where you stand on pop culture, it’s pretty easy to see how so many people love those particular artists. But I’m not a big of safe. Festivals should have some kind of challenge. My favorite element of the Pitchfork Music Festival has always been discovering something new.
Starting with Day 1, I was only familiar with half of the 14 artists performing that day.
Psychedelic telecasters painted an almost cosmic soundscape as onlookers stumbled across this year’s first act, the experimental supergroup known as Black Duck. Next up at the Red Stage, the color black took on a different meaning with Angry Blackmen. Covering a variety of topics ranging from xenophobia to capitalism, the Chicago natives definitely had the now-growing crowd taking an introspective look at themselves and where they stand on the social food chain. Next up for me was the delicate, yet hopeful ML Buch. As one of the artists I wasn’t familiar with, it was a breezy contrast against the abrasiveness of Angry Blackmen. Rosali continued that thread over at the Blue Stage.
Austrailian native Tkay Maidza flavored the day’s trend of dreaminess with hints of R&B and a beautiful cover of “Where Is My Mind”. Back at the Green Stage, the enigmatic yet prolific Billy Woods gave another round of social commentary before the first plot twist of the day at the Red Stage with Yaeji. Another artist I wasn’t familiar with but enjoyed immensely. The trashy upbeat nature of 100 gecs got everyone moving and making me feel my age. I followed that up with the sultry slithering of Sudan Archives before taking a break, checking out Jai Paul’s set, and then deciding on seeing Black Pumas over Jeff Rosenstock. (He’s too close to Ska for my liking…)
Day 2 of Pitchfork Music Festal brought a bigger dose of rock n’ roll with local openers, Lifeguard.
Despite following this band since their 2021 album, I was shocked by how young they were when seeing them in person! It’s good to see local music is in good hands even if it once again made me think of my own fleeting mortality. However, Hotline TNT proved I wasn’t dead yet and hearing selections from Cartwheel live just might’ve added a few years to my life! Feeble Little Horse added a couple more and Wednesday said I wasn’t dying anytime soon. As much as I dunk on nostalgia, I’d be lying if I said De La Soul wasn’t my most anticipated act since the lineup dropped. Even though Trugoy the Dove is no longer with us, there is still an unspeakable chemistry between Maseo and Posdnuos that I find lacking in a lot of modern hip-hop acts.
Catching a little bit of Sweeping Promises’ set at the Blue Stage made me wish their Good Living Is Coming For You was a live record. After a quick snack and several comped cans of Celsius, it was off to the Green Stage for the delightful disco of mother herself, Jessie Ware. It may have been difficult to see shots of neon lasers and strobes, but Ware’s brand of dance music definitely could’ve closed Day 2 for all I was concerned! Carly Rae Jepsen’s take on dance pop was a lot less ..aroused than Ware’s but equally as fun. Even though I still hate “Call Me Maybe”, you’re sleeping on Jepsen if you think she’s just disposable pop! Despite having a technicolor blast over the past couple of hours, Unwound reminded me why I love post-hardcore so much.
For Day 3 of Pitchfork Music Festival, I spent the first half sprinting across Union Park sampling bits from the first 4 acts.
But the clear winner of the day (and a strong contender for my favorite set of the whole weekend) came from Model/Actriz. Part Nine Inch Nails and part RevCo, no other band commanded the stage like Cole Haden. If it wasn’t going unhinged putting on lipstick before screaming bloody-murder, it was going into the crowd demanding everyone to get on the ground. No one performed liked Haden! I already loved Model/Actriz but Day 3 had me putting a ring on it!
Later, it was the split sets between the legendary Grand Master Flash and Mannequin Pussy (the band), before my second favorite set by MUNA. I caught a little bit of Crumb then Les Savy Fav’s set at the Blue Stage too. But despite absolutely loving the band’s music, the on and off-stage antics of frontman Tim Harrington were a bit overwhelming if offputting. Sure, I could be old or just tired, but if you’ve seen this band live, it’s obviously a deliberate artistic decision. And I’m completely fine with that, just maybe not so much after 3 days of a festival.
Closing out Day 3 and the entire Pitchfork Music Festival weekend was the once-alt-pop queen of the 90s herself, Alanis Morissette!
I was 13 when Jagged Little Pill erupted on the scene in 1996 and for someone who was listening to Ministry and Slayer almost religiously, Morissette felt like everything I was supposed to hate about pop music. Even still, hits such as “Ironic”, “Hand In My Pocket”, “You Learn”, and “You Oughta Know” were inescapable. Once I grew up (and not caring about scenes telling me what’s good or bad), I eased into appreciating those songs. Not just as good songs, but having an album to cross genres without really stepping on any toes. Unlike a lot of popular artists in the TikTok generation, Morissette’s success didn’t rely on dragging other artists or manipulating charts to stay on top. She blew up, hung around, and gradually faded out of the ever-changing pop scene. There’s something respectable and refreshing about not hitting every light switch on the way out.
Due to Morissette’s no-photo policy for press, I was able to just sit down on the grass and take in her set. As I rested my aching bones and quietly sang along to all those hits, I felt a little introspective myself. I wanted so much to find some sort of common thread among the festival’s lineup to make coverage somewhat easy. I wanted the hustling between stages, getting shots to come together in this grandiose way for a hook. Instead, I spent 3 days being caught up in a dizzying mix of discovery and nostalgia with no real time to reflect on much else.
However, not being able to shoot the closing set and desperately needing a much-needed break, Morissette gave that opportunity.
Not every festival needs a common thread just as not every coverage article needs a hook. Sometimes it can just be about the music and experience. Isn’t that why we go to these things anyway? I could spend time nitpicking some complaints (ahem like the obnoxious 20-foot-tall VIP structures in front of the Red and Green Stages cough). There’s always something to complain about if you really want to. But maybe the same energy it takes to complain could be spent on overlooking them for the greater good of the experience. Sometimes we can get a little caught up in the details like lineups, conflicts, or obnoxious VIP sections and it keeps us from having a good time. Maybe we can take a step back, reflect, and enjoy the fact we still get to experience events like Pitchfork Music Festival.
Then again, spending 3 days in a park enjoying 42 artists perform should be (for the lack of a better word)… ironic.
All photography by Aaron Cooper
