Day one

An empty Union Park under the unforgiving scorching sun. A chorus of cicadas, as loud as vuvuzelas in a world cup match. Random guitar notes start to gel together and it’s Black Duck, offering relief to the few that arrived early. Chill improvisational experimental music that offers a groove, but not for long. Like short bursts of lucid dreams, indescribable. Easy start to the day.

Then Angry Blackmen barge in. Loud, forceful, enthralling. Overly political. Brutal. Unforgiving. The duo, with their DJ, work the crowd into mosh pits, even joining in a couple of times. Their M.O. is simple: you don’t know us? You will now, and you won’t forget us.

It’s a tremendous show, where Angry Blackmen’s passionate rap managed to out heat the sun. Please catch them when you can.

ML Buch offered personal, introspective music. Two multi instrumentalists that exuded much needed calmness. Quiet and a strange comedown after Angry Blackmeb. Had to leave halfway as a loud echo from the Appalachiana beckoned. Or maybe closer to my current location.

It was Rosali. Loud folk with traces of alt country. Add a heavy psychedelic guitar work that sometimes got lost in the mix. But when it was on point, Rosali’s flourished as a verdant soundscape, almost post rock-ey without the navelgazing, country without the twang.

A fever dream came knocking with what another member of the audience claimed it was “tiktokcore“. I’ll steal that because I simply cannot classify 100gecs mad, irreverent live show. Songs about frogs. Songs about drugs (maybe?). Songs that made me think of frantic dance dance revolution for power metal heads. The showmanship of grime with the energy of punk. Worth your time.

While soundchecking, Jeff Rosenstock teased a couple of classics. Keep ’em separated and self-esteem by Offspring. Spoonman by Soundgarden. Timebomb by Rancid. It was only when he played the intro of the Smashing pumpkins’ Today that a woman yelled “fuck off!”

And he did.

And then came back in the middle of System of a Down’s Chop suey. The full band joined and from that half cover’s frantic energy, Rosenstock and company surfed through their set. I’m not a fan of his music, but their live show should be on your bucketlist. Some bands are simply better live than on record. I see you and remember you, post Planet of ice Minus the bear.

The chorus of cicadas lowered their decibel count, it was an angelic voice in the distance. Black pumas earned their way as headliner for the night. Smooth, soulful. ‘Ice cream (pay phone)’ is a particular high from their set. Big hearts fluttered as twilight fades into a warm summer night.

Kudos to the couples on rooftops of the high rises near Union Park. You had a good show for free.

Day 2

You could mistake Lifeguard’s youth for a lack of experience. That might be true. It’s also true that each one of them dominates their instrument to the miniscule of iotas. Loud, brash, infectious rock that left a high standard for the rest of day 2, which started with a much larger crowd than day 1.

L’rain took things slower. Deceptively chill, with hints of jazz. A beautiful experimental set. A smooth aftertaste, like mint, lingered after L’rain waved goodbye.

There’s a recurring theme in many of the songs from this weekend: guys being shitty, expecting their partners to replace their mothers. Kara Jackson’ soulful but brutally honest music included such a track. Perhaps it’s time to listen, my dudes. ‘free’ and ‘no fun/party’ were definite highlights of her sweet set.

It was a personal goal to see De la Soul, even if they sadly are missing an integral part of their essence. Never in a lifetime would I bet I’d hear Pharoahe Monch live. ‘Simon says’ with that Godzilla sample and half the audience hootin and jumping was magical. Talib Kweli also stuck around for a while, joining De la Soul for ‘stakes is high’. Thanks, De la Soul. That was so implausible good for me that I can’t ever forget you smashed ‘Potholes in my lawn’.

Have I mentioned any of the stages? Green one felt tiny but nice enough for headliners. Red felt too big all the time. I know it’s hardly relevant in these written affairs, but for some reason, my fave stage was the blue one. In the shadow of a church, by a big old tree. It felt cozy and personal. A perfect place to end the day.

Believe the hype with Water from your eyes. There is an inherent aggressiveness to their art pop that is well disguised in a boondoggle of expansive guitar work and mantra-like vocals. ‘True life’ from last year’s Everyone’s Crushed is a particular belter.

Water from your eyes wowed me. Glitchy, artsy pop that blows you back and front into a brittle pier that is two emotions from falling apart.

“Thanks for coming to the Unwound show!” joked Bratmobile’s Allison Wolfe midset. Has it been three decades and change since their first release? What is even ‘time’? That’s a question for another day. It could’ve been 93 all over the stage, with just a few wrinkles and joint aches for them and us to remind us that time is unstoppable. And so were Bratmobile.

I have no idea how many years I’ve waited to see Unwound live, but all those years (decades? Fuck!) of expectations were beyond met. Unwound was something else. You could feel every dying follicle in your head trembling with every note. Loud ordered chaos that lasts for two lifetimes. Thank you for the flowers and distorted chords.

Day 3

I’ve given a new nickname to the loud students in my class: a chorus of cicadas. The call and responde between the damn bugs and the PA has been rather amusing, in a “I can joke about this but it’s an unresolved issue in my life” kinda way.

But you know who is finding resolution? Akenya. By jove, I had no idea what I was in for. Akenya can go from high pitch into the lowest vocal depths at the drop of a hat, never missing a beat. A little dub, plenty of soul and jazz, and a clockwork-like backing band. A perfect start to day 3.

“Depressing but uplifting, in catharsis kinda way.” That was my summary review when I first heard Joanna Sternberg’s Then I try some more a couple of years ago. Their raw set is a brutal gutpunch that manages to steer away from hopelessness through some well time self deprecation. We were with Joanna the whole way: sweating, crying and feeling creepy insects all over. “Words that slay. Words that turn pink into gray.” What a wonderful, honest act to witness.

On the other side of the decibel count, Model/actriz are a sonorously unstoppable force to spectate. Like a louder Xiu Xiu. Confusing, mesmerising. Half the set mingling with the audience, converting everyone to their cause. What’s that you say? We all must kneel? Of course we will.

One thing I had in my bucket list was Grandmaster Flash manipulating us like finger puppets. Screaming, dancing, jumping, whooping and hand waving. Every command was followed with as much energy as could be spared by that time of the day. He promised music for all races, all ages, all genders. And he delivered.

I ran into Aaron Cooper from Bearded Gentlemen. We had a good chat. Our conversation ended like this:
“We will all become the boomers of someone else’s generation.”
“It happens to the best of us.”
“Or the worst of us!”

Aaron left with a warning: Les savy fav will pull a stunt. Which was Tim Harrington zooming about in a lime scooter, wearing a garish poncho and getting some sick air time(!).

Les savy fav are a brutal live band. Anything you’ve heard is true and if you only know them by their albums and never seen them live, then you have experience only 30% of what they truly are. It’s a gimmick, yes, but for audience participation, it’s also a good one.

Shame their PA was cut off because Ms. Morrissette was with one hand in her pocket and the other one pulling the plug. And no photographers either. Stuck around for a few songs, loved ‘hands clean’. And so I scrambled for the train back, taping my foot to ‘head over heels’.

As a Pitchfork festival first timer, I’m impressed at the variety of acts. Satisfied about meeting so many great new acts on a live setting, which is always my fave way to do so. Befuddled by insects. Content over all aches accrued.

see you next summer

-Sam J. Valdés López