So Friday night at Pitchfork Fest was definitely worth $20 and a drive. I couldn't entirely turn off the social commentary track that runs on a loop in my head, though. Even while rocking out.
First of all, and this bears emphasizing, it was very well-organized for a festival. I hate festivals. They are almost always somewhere between a clusterfuck, a fire drill in Chinese, and a backyard abortion. Even though the crowd easily filled a very large park area (I'm bad at estimating crowds but I'd guess somewhere around 5000) the entry/exit was easy and there were plenty of bathrooms, water, first aid, and so on.
High-five to pitchfork and the Chicago Park District. Most festivals resemble historical re-enactments of the Fall of Saigon. This didn't.
Second, as much as I enjoyed the GZA tearing through Liquid Swords, it felt more than a little odd to me. Something about a couple thousand white kids throwing up W's, chanting Wu-Tang, and smoking large amounts of drugs (which no doubt routed their way to Naperville through the black communities on which they are a cancer) was discomforting. Not to mention that the performers must have felt a bit like an anthropology exhibit for the thousands of current and soon-to-be grad students eager to show how deeply they Understand Other Cultures.
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To wit (and you have to give GZA the 2007 Knowing One's Audience Trophy), large portions of the crowd seemed as though they were hearing Liquid Swords – easily one of the best albums of the decade – for the first time. When they encored with an ODB tribute / cover of "Shimmy Shimmy Ya" the crowd practically ejaculated on itself in unison.
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Don't get me wrong, I appreciate ODB more than most. But it had a sad sort of "Let's play something they recognize so we can get out of here" feel to it.
The experience was not improved by the simultaneous flashing of 5000 cameraphones and a collective "I can't wait to blog this on MySpace" thought-bubble.
And in case you were wondering, Sonic Youth still bores me to fucking tears.