by Rose Blanton
Ahhhh, it’s 27 degrees outside, I’m fresh into new year tax debt, and my favorite boots are covered in salt stains. It almost feels like summer and with that comes the announcement of the full Pitchfork lineup.
What I’m Looking Forward To: The moment my brain computed that Neutral Milk Hotel would be playing, I started vomiting and crying simultaneously over sheer joy. Obviously number one reason.
The rest of the acts ain’t to shabby neither. We all get to be funkied by Annie Clark. Her latest self-titled LP is a swirling, pounding, disjointed dance party. I also can’t wait to hear about 50 people say “It’s a girl?!” when they see Tune-Yards live. Guitar licks and lyrics of insight will be what the rest of them are there for. Grimes will roll around on the floor and DIIV will be the secret sweethearts we know they are and hum their ways into our hearts, after telling us to be nice to each other and drink water.
Ready to get weird to Avey Tare’s Slasher Flicks? I hope it’s like a Rock Opera and not the utter disappointment that Panda Bear was in 2010. Remember that? Even sans Frankie Rose, Dum Dum Girls are still worth catching. And I’m proud of Cloud Nothings.
Also on the wish-list is Slowdive! All of the Chatham Rise listeners out there can be excited about this one. Similar genres. This will be a good band to kick back on the grass and take a break to. Same thing goes for Real Estate, except maybe with the addition of a make out partner.
My education on hip-hop is flawed, but the word on the street has it Schoolboy Q is worth checking out. Sorry, the last hip-hop album I bought was Graduation, that’s still relevant right?
Another great thing about Pitchfork is the record tent. THE RECORD TENT! Their square readers have never and will never work, but you’ll find the Dirty Projectors LP and free stickers. Bring cash.
The band you should pretend to know: Twin Peaks, no, it’s not that weird show you watched with your gay roommate in college. It’s a Chicago punk band. Go.
Things that will piss you off: The price of beer, the insurmountable number of 18 year olds and the fact that you have to stick your pizza up your nature pocket. And off course [gasp] port-a-potties.
P.S I think Beck’s playing?
Image by Erez Avissar for Pitchfork.