If you can believe Pitchfork's own reviews, the first Pitchfork Music Festival (or second, if you count the webzine's curatorial input on last year's Intonation Festival) promised a 7.7 rating out of 10, based on the average score given to the festival acts' most recent full-length discs. The reality, of course, was just as subjective as any review, but by our measure, Pitchfork Fest deserves an 8.3. Three of The A.V. Club's Chicago-based writers were on hand to enjoy—and judge—the event. Here's a minute-by-minute take on the festivities.
Saturday, July 29
2:34 p.m.: The festival's longwinded emcee makes the perfect Pitchfork-esque introduction for Band Of Horses: an interminably long story about his father moving to Chicago and some family reunion in South Carolina. Seriously, dude, can it and let the band play. (KR)
2:35 p.m.: Band Of Horses makes me worry slightly that the whole idea of this festival is wrong: This great band, whose Everything All The Time is one of this year's best, doesn't seem made for sunshine, blazing heat, and a big field. The band is still excellent, and Ben Bridwell's voice carries magically, but I can't help thinking how much better this would be back at Schubas. (JM)
3:47 p.m.: It's pretty amazing to walk anywhere in Union Park and hear what's happening on one of the two big stages. Even if what you're hearing is the voice of Mountain Goats' John Darnielle, which cuts deeply—for some it's pain, for others pleasure. (JM)
4:14 p.m.: A lot of great T-shirts showed up at Pitchfork Fest, plenty from kick-ass local company Threadless, and plenty of ironic kiddie shirts. The best: a considerably overweight dude in an "I Beat Anorexia" T. Sure, it's easy, but it works. On sale at the craft fair (which was pretty great, actually), a shirt that reads: "I'm so indie, I make Daniel Smith look like John Darnielle." If you get that, you read Pitchfork a lot. (JM)
4:36 p.m.: My tastes get reinforced: I like Dan Bejar much more in The New Pornographers than I do in Destroyer. (KR)
5:26 p.m.: Art Brut proves the Band Of Horses theory completely wrong; this band is built for huge outdoor festivals, and mustacheless frontman Eddie Argos eats up the energy. (JM)
5:40 p.m.: Art Brut somehow makes the awesome song "Moving To L.A." even more awesome by supplementing the line about drinking "Hennessey with Morrissey" with variations like "I'm drinking pinot with Brian Eno" and "I'm drinking sherry with Bryan Ferry." (KP)
5:54 p.m.: Argos' chest, a big portion of which peaks out from his mostly unbuttoned shirt, grows more sunburned by the moment, settling into a deep shade of crimson. He's gonna have a rough week. (KR)
6:10 p.m.: Ted Leo + Pharmacists play an impassioned set featuring new songs that sound pretty great. Here's a case for geography not being destiny: Leo is from the East Coast, not Ireland. So why does he play guitar like an alternate-universe The Edge who joined a kicking Thin Lizzy cover band? (KP)
7:15 p.m.: The Walkmen are short a drummer—he's off becoming a daddy—but they announce that Hugh McIntosh of Bad Company will fill in. (We suspect it's actually Hugh McIntosh of The French Kicks.) They rollick through an endearingly sloppy set; people rock to "The Rat," unsurprisingly. (JM)
8:10 p.m.: It's time for The Futureheads, whose patented brand of angular, early-XTC-influenced (okay, early XTC-derived) pop sounds as tight as it does expressive in the open air. One small problem: I'd just read Simon Reynolds' great post-punk history Rip It Up And Start Again, and I couldn't mentally get over his comment about how the new wave of post-punk sounds great but lacks the revolutionary musical and political principles that music had the first time around. But it does sound great. (KP)
8:49 p.m.: A-Trak sounds like a more mainstream DJ Shadow, and that's cool with me. (JM)
9:21 p.m.: The fact that The Silver Jews haven't toured for so long makes the experience—comparatively slick, well-practiced—seem a little anticlimactic. They do play "Smith And Jones Forever," though. (JM)
9:30 p.m.: Finish the Silver Jews set and use Port-A-Lets that have been stewing in the sun all day and are now completely in the dark? Or go to the gas station down the road? The music loses, sadly. (KP)
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