Despite brutal temperatures reaching into the 90s, over 58,000 fans turned out to a dusty Union Park on July 15-17, for the Pitchfork Music Festival, the annual indie-meca, drawing fans and bands from around the world. This year's fest featured 45 acts, a vintage poster festival, a renegade-style art fair, local cuisine, and a bounty of free sponsor goodies, such as oxygen bar with chair massages, air-conditioned lounges, bike valet service, iced bandanas, and 16,000 bottles of water to keep attendees hydrated and amused.
Pitchfork prides itself on being Chicago's "fan-friendly" festival, offering a mind-blowing "best of Indie" line-up, fair ticket prices, green practices, and an inclusive environment. So it was a great shock to fans and music critics alike that the festival booked Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All ( OFWGKTA ) , the L.A hip-hop collective infamous for homophobic taunts and horrific riffs about beating, raping and murdering women. Spewing rants against "faggots," and gruesome lyrics such as "rape a pregnant bitch and tell friends I had a three way," OFWGKTA's assaultive live show would seem to be the antithesis of the idyllic community that Pitchfork has built over the past six years.
Adding further insult, the influential Pitchfork is seen as a launch pad to fame for emerging indie wunderkinds, and many were concerned about this veritable endorsement of the hate-frothing collective.
Immediate outrage and condemnation followed the May line-up announcement. Music critic Jim Derogatis offered scathing criticism in his article, "Endorsing Rape or Showcasing Art," www.wbez.org/blog/jim-derogatis/2011-05-02/pitchfork-odd-future-endorsing-rape-or-showcasing-art-85888and critic Greg Kot challenged Pitchfork's motivation. Chicago-based Rape Victim Advocates www.rapevictimadvocates.org/ led the outcry, and originally planned a protest outside the gates. But after meetings with Pitchfork, the group was invited into the festival, where they partnered with Howard Brown Health Center, Between Friends, Center on Halsted and other advocacy groups to distribute thousands of fans, partially paid for by Pitchfork, that said, "Cool it! Don't be a fan of violence." One has to wonder however, why Pitchfork didn't simply rescind its invite to OFWGKTA. Which message are they truly promoting?
The gentle anti-violence protest was in odd contrast to the barrage of hateful, violent rhymes that filled the Pitchfork bowl during Odd Future's set. While some photographers refused to shoot pictures, and many attendees went to other stages, hundreds of fans, reveling in the lyrics "fuck the police," collectively waived middle fingers in the air and gleefully chanted along with Odd Future. In informal interviews, many youthful fans said that they didn't care about the lyrics, but "loved the flow," or that music "has no meaning." A few said that Odd Future had no place at Pitchfork, but the majority in the audience were in support of the band's appearance.
Lesbian couple Amanda Ives and Meredith McCall, said they almost sold their tickets when they heard about Odd Future, but decided to attend, and steer clear of the band. Both agreed Pitchfork was generally a gay friendly festival, but they will be watching the line-up very carefully before buying tickets next year.
The Odd Future performance itself was unmemorable and roundly panned as shock-value and uninspired. The dust settled, and the crowds moved onto other stages, but questions remain about Pitchfork's commitment to its "fan-friendly" mission, especially to women and the LGBT community. Before the next festival, Pitchfork organizers will have come up with answers about how they can promote hate-filled lyrics in the name of art, and the fans will have to decide if Pitchfork is indeed a community for all indie-lovers.
Despite the one major programming fiasco, the Pitchfork line-up showed its renowned flair for producing a jangly, yet coherent mix of cross-over indie-icons and relatively unknown bands hoping to be the next big thing.
Neko Case was a great choice for day one and delivered a solid alt-county set to an adoring crowd. Those with more adventurous tastes reluctantly skipped Neko for a haunting set by James Blake, who lived up to the pre-fest hype and mesmerized the audience at the tree lined blue stage with dreamy electronic layers and hushed, emotive vocals reminiscent of Antony and the Johnsons.
The much-anticipated Deer Hunter brought a powerful mix of ambient shoegazer and post-punk psychedelia to an enchanted crowd that stretched the length of the sun drenched field. Proving its mettle, the band pulled off a blazing rendition of Patti Smith's Horses on its way to being one of the best performances of the festival.
The renegade art fair, set back among the trees, offered a welcome oasis from relentless heat with hand-crafted jewelry, found-object lamps, t-shirts, eco-design of all kinds, and a host of non-profit groups. Marking a coming trend, the faux-fur Spirit Hood animal heads were a big hit, even in the sweltering heat. And the Chicago Women's Health Center made a good showing with free condoms decorated with album graphics.
Tori y Moi offered up a sweet electro-R&B set, and Zola Jesus, provided a grateful respite from the chill, synth-heavy line-up with her powerful goth-inspired operatic vocals, channeling a bit of Bjork, Kate Bush and Grace Slick as she tore up the stage in her theatrical metallic dress.
Aussie electro-poppers, Cut Copy, set the tone for a super-charged finale to the big weekend, turning the field into a big, new wavy-dance party after a long, hot day. Building on the momentum, the afro-grunge influenced TV on the Radio superbly handled the enviable closing night slot with anthem-jams that, at times, reached transcendence. And so ended the sixth annual Pitchfork on a high, after a subdued electro-synth laden weekend, and the lingering, vexing issue of Odd Future and the future of Pitchfork as an all-inclusive event.
