Pitchfork Saturday: giving the people what they want

by Scott Wilson

Another insufferably hot day starts off with a 1 pm “Punk Brunch.” KEN Mode and White Lung duel for noise supremacy on opposite stages, neither taking it easy nor showing signs of dehydration, relent, or fatigue. White Lung ends harder than it started, with a respectable mosh pit of teenagers gleefully crushing their bodies and blowing their eardrums till the very end. Pissed Jeans starts strong, but the guitarist shreds too hard and breaks his axe, which gives the frontman time to verbally abuse the audience, other bandmates, and photographers in the press area. Charming fellow.

Pitchfork Music Festival is comfortingly progressive, as far as moneymaking operations go. Volunteers dispense free water bottles on Friday and Saturday to everyone. On Sunday, when water supplies are no doubt running low, volunteers still dispense a few bottles and hose down people in the front rows at the stages. Also, each volunteer represents a non-profit. Pitchfork actually pays that non-profit for the hours they volunteer spends working, as explained by Matt, a volunteer for Open Books in Chicago. They also get free admittance for the next day, of course.

For the most part, Saturday is marked by fairly low audience energy. Blame the heat, but people remain to spread out and stoic for Merchandise, And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead, Swans, and even the headliners. On the main stage, Belle and Sebastian close the day by inviting members of the audience to dance around on stage. People in the widely dispersed crowd wave their arms and twirl about, happy as can be. Even somebody who doesn’t dig soft rock can enjoy the positive vibes. On the other side of the park, Rustie stands poking at his Mac Book while the heat-stroked crowd tries to follow along, many leave before the end to avoid getting rained on.

The one very big exception is from the surprise show of the weekend, the one that has everybody talking from the fans to The Breeders to Swans and everyone at the media tent: Savages. In the mid-day furnace, singer Jehnny Beth’s intense, driven stare gives people chills. The band plays as if the last thing they want in life is to force every minuscule bit of noise out of their instruments. Even from a distance, the show is riveting.

Image courtesy of Pitchfork