Pitchfork Music Festival Union Park Chicago, IL July 16-18, 2010

I didn’t reconnect with Gary until the following afternoon but did manage to take in the aforementioned set with my friend Jane, who would be my concert buddy for the rest of the weekend. We both got a kick out of Liars’ front man Angus Andrews and his choice of wardrobe—the lanky Australian gave a nod to fellow-countrymen Men at Work by matching one of their concert T-shirts with a pair of gym shorts. Despite the wacky get-up, the band turned in an exciting mix of witchy post-punk, bad-trip psych and noise rock.

Jane and I then made our way over to the heavily-shaded side stage just in time to catch comedian Hannibal Buress. The former Chicagoan (and current Saturday Night Live writer) riffed on pigeon kicking and pickle juice in front of a relaxed crowd. We stuck around the comedy stage for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart’s Wyatt Cenac, who turned in a relatively subdued set consisting of bits about theme restaurants, cat videos and house-sitting. I split with Jane to grab a surprisingly good vegan corndog from the Chicago Diner booth, secured water from the press tent and browsed the Flatstock poster tents before returning to the comedy stage to hear Eugene Mirman (Flight of the Conchords) touch on Myspace junk ads, Joe Piscopo and fake business cards.

I walked back to the (now cooler) main pitch to see headliners Modest Mouse channel Talking Heads in what started out as a highly danceable set. The veteran band moved into slower, rootsier material as the night wore on, but there were enough fan favorites trotted out (“Tiny Cities Made of Ashes,” “Dashboard,” “Dramamine”) to keep the faithful happy. I ended day one of Pitchfork with a delicious treat courtesy of summer festival regular The Ice Cream Man, who, like any established rock band, has his own publicist.

For me, day two began at 4:45 pm at the former comedy stage, which was now set up for emerging indie bands. Chicago’s The Smith Westerns played a charming combination of glam and garage rock but Cullen Omori’s rough vocals drove me to the main stages in time to catch The Blues Explosion return from a six year hiatus and sweat through the classics “Bell Bottoms” and “Hell.” I then met up with Jane and had some tasty fish and chips with curry sauce from the Abbey Pub.

We caught a few songs by Montreal’s Wolf Parade and were impressed by the band’s theatrical vocals and serpentine guitar lines. We then browsed the record fair, said hello to the folks at the Shawnimals table and watched Animal Collective’s Panda Bear, who was perched behind a mixer on one of the main stages. Guitar slung around his neck, psychedelic video projections at his right and a voice that recalled fellow travelers Julian Cope and Scott Walker, he was quite the spectacle.

We ended the night with a stellar set by NYC dance punks LCD Soundsystem. Bass and disco ball were out front, a backline was made up of multiple percussionists and vocalist James Murphy brought the hits. Cuts from the new This is Happening (“Drunk Girls,” “Pow Pow”) bounced alongside older jams (“Daft Punk is Playing at My House,” “All My Friends”) and everything came to a beautiful close with the plaintive “New York, I Love You but You’re Bringing Me Down.”

My “day three” started with the luminous California pop of Girls. At first, I was unimpressed and began to wander until I could hear that the band was getting heavier and weirder. I returned to the main stage where they were set up and caught the rest of their set, which included the giddy single “Lust for Life.”

I then walked over to the second main stage, found some shade and watched Beach House as a mercifully cool breeze kicked in. Victoria Legrand’s smoky vocals and Alex Scally’s shoe-gaze guitar complemented each other quite nicely, as the blue and silver stage decorations sparkled under the still powerful sun.

As the temperature rose and proper hydration became a real concern, I traded beer for water and iced coffee horchata (courtesy of Big Bite Catering). After hearing several strong recommendations, I headed over to the side stage to catch Surfer Blood and dug their melodic take on 80’s/90’s Brit-pop. I caught up with Jane and a mutual friend, Bari, during Major Lazer’s set and we all hung out together for the rest of the evening.

Penultimate Pitchfork closer Big Boi is best known as ½ of an innovative hip-hop duo and he played a solid mix of Outkast hits (“So Fresh, So Clean,” “Ms. Jackson,” “Bombs over Baghdad”) and material from his new solo album, Sir Luscious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty. His set was performed with live bass, horns, DJ, hype man and, as an added bonus, three pint-sized break dancers who won the audience over completely.

Festival headliners Pavement, recently reunited after a ten-year lull, were much better live than when they made the rounds of the indie club circuit in the 90s. They drew from their full catalogue, playing fan favorites “Kennel District,” “Debris Slide,” “Trigger Cut” and “Stereo.” Even though the band was at the top of its game, concertgoers made an exodus for the gates throughout their set. Maybe it was general fatigue or an urge to “beat the crowd,” but scores of people missed out on a pretty good thing.

Now a summertime staple for Chicago, Pitchfork Music Festival once again offered three days of great music, good food and relentless sunshine. I am happy to have shared it with my friends.

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