Images by Alexa Viscius for Pitchfork

Grace Ives vibes & choreography

Grace Ives shrugged her way onto the stage, looking as though she had just rolled off a dorm couch. With a big yawn and an orange Gatorade, you could tell this Brooklynite was making the trip to Chicago worth it. “I performed at Sleeping Village last night and I fell off the stage,” she admitted to the audience. “It was an accident,” she followed with a wry smile.

Yet as her set progressed, Ives showed no signs of slowing down as she strutted around the stage like an unhinged pop star. It was crowd work at its finest, with choreography that felt unique, sardonic, and just a little janky. The crowd got into it, giving their own moves right back.

Images by Daniel Cavazos for Pitchfork

We interrupt this broadcast to present JPEGMAFIA

I doubt anyone received a more enthusiastic welcome than JPEGMAFIA all weekend. A raucous energy ran through the crowd, who started chanting “Peggy” as the 33-year-old arrived with nothing more than a laptop and a lion’s share of confidence. But trouble was on the horizon. Maybe his computer was as fried as the sun-battered Sunday crowd, but his accompaniment began glitching midway through his second song. 

Peggy was frustrated. “I can’t do it! I can’t do it, y’all!” he said, sitting cross-legged on stage, with a lagging track playing overhead. “Cut the music!” In the silence, the crowd braced itself for disappointment. Then just as suddenly, he launched into an acapella invective with such impeccable fury that it almost felt planned. The crowd roared back to life. 

Technical difficulties continued, but Peggy was indefatigable, attacking each number with bravado and a sense of humor that only made him more endearing. “I have one more acapella song for you. It’s actually a cover”. He broke into the first line of Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe”. “Fuck! Where’s my auto-tune?” he shouted. He switched it on and dove right back in.

Images by Poonehghana for Pitchfork

Weyes Blood casts a spell

If you’d never heard of Weyes Blood before Saturday night, you were not alone. While critically acclaimed, she occupies a very specific niche of psychedelic folk music that hasn’t quite found its way to the mainstream. As the penultimate act on Saturday night, she appeared like a pagan Pan-Am priestess in a flowing white dress with a cape she twirled through the mist. A disgruntled audience, who just two hours ago had been made to evacuate the grounds due to storm warnings, was immediately transported. 

The next hour was a resplendent, glowing rendition of her material from “Titanic Rising” and her most recent album, “And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow”. Without tracking, Weyes Blood’s rich vocals and ethereal instrumentation created a spiritual experience that had us basking in the rain. “This next song is our most psychedelic. So if you have some on you, take them now,” she joked halfway through the set. There was no need.

Images of Sen Morimoto by Daniel Cavazos, image of Lucrecia Dalt by Julian Bajsel for Pitchfork.

Howling with Sen Morimoto

“I’ve wanted to play this festival for 10 years,” Chicago local Sen Morimoto told us. “And here we are!” With a silky, light voice, Morimoto’s vocals floated atop a heartbeat rhythm. His 8-piece band lives somewhere between sultry R&B and big band jazz, making it easy for Friday’s crowd to shake off the work week and fall into its rhythm. 

“This next song is about dogs,” he said as a prequel to his infectious, let-loose number “Woof”. “If you feel like barking or howling… do it!” The audience obliged with gusto. “I’ve never owned a dog in my life,” he quipped at “Woof’s” end. Then he launched into a frothy version of Cher’s “Believe,” which got the audience howling all over again.

Images by Julian Bajsel for Pitchfork.

Lucrecia Dalt and the leaning drum tower of Pitchfork 

I’d never heard of Lucrecia Dalt before. I didn’t line up at the front of the stage in anticipation of her set. Feeling that end-of-festival fatigue, I went to grab a beer and a moment in the shade instead. Yet from across the grounds, I could hear a haunting track that felt like a sonic mirage calling me back. The sound was like the feeling of sweat evaporating off your skin.

I made my way to the stage and saw Dalt, sporting a Sontag strip of gray hair. Standing stoic in front of her synthesizers, she commanded the stage with mesmerizingly soft yet punctuated vocals. To her left stood the most baffling drum kit I’d ever seen — a Babel’s tower of percussion, framing its drummer Alex Lázaro, surrounding him from every angle. The vestiges of a traditional drum kit combined with a wide array of Latin percussion built a propulsive beat that felt both groovy and off-balance.

Dalt and Lázaro seemed indescribably connected and precise, yet at the same time spontaneous. It felt as if we were witnessing an act that would never be repeated again.

Images by Poonehghana for Pitchfork [cover too].

Perfume Genius marries the chaos

As Mike Hadreas, the frontman of Perfume Genius, spread an endless spool of yellow tulle fabric over the stage, I knew we were in for a chaotic performance. The always-operatic Perfume Genius knows how to use a prop. Dressed in a “Mike’s Palace” tee with grungy jeans, Hadreas was accented by long red rubber gloves and his bashfully sly persona. His band plays with polyrhythmic precision that crawls beneath your skin and makes your body vibrate (shout out to Tim Carr’s powerhouse drumming).

The music is so full of erotic longing that it brought people to tears just moments after making them dance. Quiet moments like “Jason” only amplified the sonic boom of Genius’ more explosive tracks (see “Otherside”). The music was remarkable, with dynamic peaks and valleys that kept the audience’s ear. Yet beyond that, Hadreas is an honest showman. He experiences his music with us. By the set’s end, he had wrapped himself in a puffy wedding gown of the (“not quite”) golden fabric, tied himself off with a mic cord, and trudged across the boards like the bride of destruction. Like his sound, which often turns in on itself, breaking down, and exploding into something new, Perfume Genius revels in the chaos. It made for a hell of a show.

Images by Daniel Cavazos for Pitchfork.

Everything Leikeli47 did

I was a stranger to Leikeli47. I’d stumbled on her music on some playlists, but never taken a deep dive. But from her first step onto the Blue stage, she commanded the whole crowd with unflagging confidence. Not to mention a voice that doesn’t quit! On top of her big brash sound, she was one of the few artists whose vocal clarity cut through the festival sound mixing (that often reduces lyrics to sludge) and made us hear every last word. 

Her lines are funny, nuanced, and self-empowering. It’s ballroom rap fit for the gods! And on Friday night, she made us feel like gods, as she pulled half the crowd up on stage to strut their stuff while she went off. There was vogueing, there was twerking, there were LEWKS. If there was anyone that had the crowd in the palm of their hand, it was Leikeli47. Hearing the Pitchfork audience sing along to “Carry Anne” was pure delight. “This my pussy, I can do what I want / Mmmm I’m a big girl now” we all shouted in unison. I may have started the show with a stranger but left feeling like I had found my new bestie.

* * *

Those are our top moments from 2023. What did we miss?

The post Pitchfork 2023: Seven artists who stole the show appeared first on Quip Magazine.

This list is by no means comprehensive or superlative. I definitely slept on some albums this year. There is also no emphasis on the numerology of these albums. I loved them all equally and for different reasons, just like my plants. These are the albums that I kept putting on this year. These are the albums that struck me in such a way I knew I had to see these people live. They are the albums that shaped my 2017, which, it seems, wasn’t an easy year for most people.

Japanese Breakfast – Soft Sounds From Another Planet

I’ve been a fan of Michelle’s music since she came out with her debut album Psychopomp. In fact, it was on my list last year. Let’s also commend the fact that this woman has been churning out an album a year and backed each one with an extensive tour. Soft Sounds From Another Planet gets a nod because it shows her maturity as a songwriter. SSFAP encompasses shoegaze along with these epic soundscapes that rush over you like a warm wave like you’re dunking your head under in the bathtub. Perfect for a hazy evening filled with friends or the moment in the road trip when you enter a desert state and the sun starts to set.

Tyler The Creator – Scum Fuck Flower Boy

We see another album full of maturity but also sticking to what he knows best. Tyler the Creator has dropped a little of his riotous, rebellious side and showed a softer, perhaps even sexually fluid side: ”I’ve been kissing white boys since 2004” Most of the maturity is seen in Tyler’s own untangling of personal issues. Loneliness (Boredom), toxic friendship (I Ain’t Got Time!), and sexual frustration (garden shed, glitter). They are sprawled across this album which, by the way, has been nominated for a Grammy. Tyler is trying to mature and he does it via lyrics and a cleaner, shorter album. (He also produced it.) We see much more methodical transitions, like the fact that “See You Again” is a radio request. We still see facets of the old Tyler that we love. Take “Who Dat Boy” for instance, this is the Tyler we fell in love with in “Odd Future”. He sticks to tradition by keeping track ten a two-parter (my personal favorite) While Tyler is no saint and he’s by no means using this album to right his wrongs, he is showing he’s learned from his mistakes.

Priests – Nothing Feels Natural

This band’s name is almost too on the nose but that’s the psychotic perfection of Priests. They hail from DC which is very close to Baltimore which is the catholic epicenter of the United States. Nothing Feels Natural is also freakishly on point with how counter-Coulter or non-mainstream media is feeling this year with he-who-shall-not-be-named as president. NFN is at its heart a punk album but they did a fantastic job of weaving in indie, surf rock, and even jazz while frontwoman Greer croons, cries, and bellows to the crowd. This could be the anthem of the year for those feeling a little more than discontent with the current political climate.

NE-HI – Offers

These chitown boys did something very rare. They made a sophomore album that surpassed their debut one. Offers is the end result of them touring behind their debut and learning who they are as an actual band. They rely more on lyrics and thoughtful riffs. Offers itself is definitely a coming-of-age album for NE-HI. Balla said he wanted the record to be “something of an act of solidarity with people who are trying to figure it all out. There was a lot of pressure and exhaustion and self-discovery in the process of writing and recording. We were trying to find our voice and we’re proud of the one we found.” I think listeners will definitely hear this in the lyrics of tracks like “Stay Young”, “Offers”, and “Out of Reach”. While NE-Hi is trying something new lyrically, they stay true to their rattling, jangling guitars. Their psycho surf influence is still prevalent on tracks “Buried on the Moon” and “Every Dent”. Songs like “Prove” pep things up a bit, but we still have Mikey’s and Jason’s long, lingering vocals to draw us in.

Homeshake – Fresh Air

Some believe we’ve been following Homeshake on his journey of love since the beginning. In The Shower and Midnight Snack were about him lusting after and eventually “getting the girl.” All relationships experience lulls – and perhaps with the miscommunication vibe happening on Fresh Air, we’re witnessing the first lull of this relationship. The title could also be referring to that first gulp of fresh air once the honeymoon cloud of sex and snuggling has cleared and things become more real. The third album for Sagar put him on my list because it’s deeper than his last two while serving up some of the best singles he’s created with tracks “Every Single Thing,”“Call Me Up,” and “Khmlwugh.” Sagar’s third album is an easy listen. Perfect for coffee shops, house parties, or even a booty call.

Sandy (Alex G) – Rocket

This album has a crazy evolution. It starts out this typical, indie folk singer-songwriter type of thing and then morphs into something… that’s a little beyond words. The metamorphosis starts with the track “Horse” and then just propels on this trajectory through what I can only imagine are the chasms of Alex G’s mind. Through dark wave, to almost rap, to autotune, synth-pop, and light punk . Then “Judg” happens and were back to why people have been comparing Alex G to Elliott Smith. There’s also some borderline country/alt-country happening with the track “Powerful Man.” The reason why this made it onto my list is that fact that I haven’t figured it out yet, I keep going back to it, keep trying to figure out it’s narrative, if it even has one.

Vagabon – Infinite Worlds

Although this album is only eight tracks long is does an incredible job of encompassing a lot of big ideas, ideas somewhat but not entirely unknown to the indie rock genre. Ideas of communities and safe spaces are a big part of Tamko’s lyrics. In songs like “Cleaning House” and “The Embers” this is made apparent. Tamko’s incorporation of pedals and synths is truly beautiful and paints some sort of ethereal landscape. Especially on tracks like Mal a L’aise. This album made my list because of the overall triumphant air it puts out.

Julie Byrne – Not Even Happiness

Byrne could be my generation’s answer to Joni Mitchell, not to say Miss Mitchell isn’t still relevant. But Byrne reminds me of Mitchell in the sense that here’s a woman with a haunting voice and captivating songwriting that punctures your hearts and lungs while trying to sing along. In her opener, she sings “To me, this city’s hell/ But I know you call it home/ I was made for the green/ Made to be alone”. This album came out two days before I moved from Chicago to Portland. Byrne is a traveler and a singular one at that. While Byrne IS writing love songs she also sings of herself. And while her lyrics are deep, her music is simple but not in a lacking way, in a way where it speaks for itself. It’s not all folky finger picking either. The track “I Live Now As A Singer” nods to herself and her generation and brings in some synthesized instrumentals.

Perfume Genius – No Shape

Just how Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love makes you want to run down hallways barefoot in a ballgown, Mike Hadreas’ No Shape does the same thing. It’s ravenous and undulating. There are actually quite a few similarities between the two albums. I think Hadreas might be paying homage to miss Bush. The video for “Slip Away” is almost a combination of the videos Bush shot for the title track on Hounds of Love and Running Up That Hill. The song Wreath even borrows a few lyrics from Bush. No Shape is a triumph because it allows the listeners (if they’ll let themselves) to throw away any shackles they’ve put on themselves. No Shape is also a proclamation of love and while Hadreas is happy to succumb to it, it can be overwhelming. It’s a beautiful album that rushes through the listeners like an irregular cold wind during a heat wave. You’re left appreciative but grasping for more.

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