Pitchfork Festival

CHICAGO – For the fourth year running, Chicago hosts the Pitchfork Festival, and Union Park, just steps from the city's coolest neighbourhood, Wicker Park, is peacefully overrun by tens of thousands of young and not-so-young indie-rock fans. The three-day event is sold out, and outside the park entrances American scalpers are shouting themselves hoarse doing business.

The weather forecast isn't exactly reassuring, but on Friday the 17th (which in the US isn't unlucky), under a grey sky that promises nothing good, it falls to Tortoise, standard-bearers of the Illinois city's music scene, to open one of the three Pitchfork Festival 2009 stages. This year the festival's inventive organisers decided that, for the first day (a sort of pre-festival), fans would get to pick the bands' setlists, and so John McEntire and co., much to our delight, play "Tnt" and "Glass Museum" among others - and hearing the latter in the heart of Chicago sends shivers down your spine. The performance of the tracks is flawless. A precision that's almost frightening.

Amid thunderous applause come the threesome Yo La Tengo, who, between one crowd-pleaser and another, break their own rule by slipping a couple of delightful new songs into the setlist, before making us smile and recall a recent past with Tom Courtenay and Sugarcube.

It's 7.20pm, and it's time for the eagerly awaited return of Jesus Lizard, whom the city has been waiting for for a decade now; the sound is as razor-sharp as ever, especially Denison's guitar. The crowd erupts - after all, they didn't become one of the most important post-hardcore bands by accident - and frontman David Yow seems reinvigorated by such enthusiasm: in 40 minutes of live show he jumps around, screams his lungs out, spits, dives into the crowd and promises his fellow Chicagoans a new show at the Metro in late November.

The tough task of closing out the first day after Lizard's blistering set falls to Built To Spill, celebrating twenty years since forming in Boise, Idaho. Their Nineties-style guitars dominate the whole set, between long jam sessions, ballads like "Kikked In The Sun" and a grand finale with "Carry The Zero" - by now, frankly, we're all a bit tired, and at the same time eager for the real festival to start the following day.

Saturday the 18th. The sky is still overcast, it's a bit chilly, and the schedule is packed tight. Eighteen bands across three stages, starting very early, at 1pm, with Disappears, the project of Brian Case (90 Day Men, The Ponys); at the same time, on the small stage, it's the turn of New York's Cymbals Eat Guitar (a city that keeps popping up throughout this festival). And again it's a dash between the various stages to catch a string of bands (The Duchess and the Duke, Plants And Animals, Fucked Up, The Antlers, Bowerbirds), and finally it's time for the much talked-about The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart; their self-titled debut album is in heavy rotation on American indie radio (a record that sounds like it's made entirely of singles!) and the crowd is warm and delighted: the five young guys from Brooklyn are almost moved by such enthusiasm, and it's touching to see them looking so happy on stage singing "We Will Never Die". Their music, with its clear 80s British influence, is a breath of fresh air and enthusiasm. Among the many high-energy tracks, "Young Adult Friction", with its tight rhythm and an irresistible chorus, sets the park alight. Well done.

It's 4:20pm and Final Fantasy (Canadian musician Owen Pallett) takes to the main stage alone with violin and keyboard, casting a spell over the more than 40,000 people in attendance (all in reverent silence) with a set of rare beauty and class, full of virtuosity and celestial sounds. His ability to build loops and melodies, creating the instrumental backbone of his songs with nothing but a violin, is staggering. Owen himself admits on stage that he's scared and has never played such an ambitious set at a festival, but the result is exceptional and draws huge applause.

After the young and fun Polnytail, it's time for, once again from Brooklyn, Yeasayer: a really pleasant surprise, their experimental rock-pop sounds like a strange cross between Duran Duran and Depeche Mode, with a touch of tribal India and Radiohead. The live show is gripping, and right as they play their hit "Sunrise", the rain starts pouring hard on the ecstatic crowd — a truly beautiful moment.

Luckily summer storms don't last long, and after Wavves, Doom and Lindstrom, it's time for Beirut, aka Zach Condon, the young but already seasoned founder of the project is eagerly awaited. Unfortunately a subpar backing band fails to do justice to the beauty of his music live: the drummer is out of sync, so is the bassist, but Zach's voice warms things up and his presence is magnetic. The duet on "Sunday Sun" with Final Fantasy on violin throughout the final stretch of the set is fantastic.

On the main stage preparations are underway for the last live show of the day, with Michael Jackson's (R.I.P.) "Human Nature" playing in the background.

8:40pm. The National are ready. Simply a magnificent show. The band owns the stage, and as they roll out song after song from "Alligator" and "Boxer", frontman Matt Berninger (probably drunk) falls, gets back up, screams and whispers. The band, made up of two guitars, bass, drums, a violinist/multi-instrumentalist and a trumpet player, is monstrous. The performances of "Fake Empire" and "Mr November" are the apex of the show, complete with Berninger's stage dive (impeccably elegant in his suit, even while diving into the crowd). What a wonder.

Sunday the 19th, another 18 bands take the stage from 1:00pm: Michael Columbia, The Mae Shi, Dianogah (I had no idea they were still around!), Frightened Rabbit, Blitzen Trapper from Portland, Killer Whales, and Canada's Women, who win over a decent crowd with their cacophonous sound and a rendition of their by-now-famous "Black Rice" (and what a sweet, talented guitarist!).

It's 4:15pm, and it finally feels like July: sun and heat. Amid so much beauty and polish, along comes the festival's low point: The Thermals. A dreadful live show, four covers in a 40-minute set, from Sonic Youth to Nirvana, then Breeders and closing with "Basket Case" by Green Day. Every song sounds the same, the only hint of dynamism is the bassist's jumping around, and the covers are carbon copies of the originals. It's hard to see why they were booked for this festival at all. Totally out of place.

Luckily, after that low point, along come The Walkmen, from New York of course. I'll go out on a limb: one of the best live shows I've seen this year. With the help of a seven-piece horn section, the band delivers a gorgeous, gripping, moving performance. The extraordinary musicians in the group (the drummer and guitarist above all) forge a unique blend of vintage, romantic, aching and powerful sound. Hamilton Leithauser has a frighteningly beautiful voice, capable of astonishing high notes, and it's easy to see why so many of the other artists at the festival are standing at the side of the stage applauding him. The renditions of "Luisiana", "In The New Year" and "The Rat" are unforgettable.

While Vivian Girls, Mew and The Very Best play the smaller stage, the main area buzzes with anticipation for Grizzly Bear and The Flaming Lips.

First, though, it's France's M83, whom I can't fully appreciate, maybe because I'm still under the spell of The Walkmen, maybe because the sun is too high in the sky for these electropop rhythms.

Grizzly Bear are ready to live up to the expectations of the huge crowd, and, despite some technical issues, they manage it well. The melodies are exquisitely elegant and their vocal harmonies flawless, as the four of them range from the ethereal atmospheres of "Knife" to the poppier "Two Weeks". A lovely show, during which they also celebrated the drummer's birthday. Happy birthday!

8:30pm, here we are, the grand finale belongs entirely to the Flaming Lips, and there couldn't be a better way to close things out. The party atmosphere that defines the historic Oklahoma City band's live shows sweeps everyone up in one last burst of enthusiasm and screaming. Balloons, confetti, the stage crowded as always with people in all sorts of costumes, an explosion of joy. And even though Wayne Coyne spends more time talking and chatting with the crowd than actually singing, we forgive him as we all sing "Do You Realize" together.

10:00pm, in perfect order 50,000 people stream out of the park and the Pitchfork Festival comes to an end.

Kudos to the organizers, who built a virtually flawless machine for both the audience and the industry people. Kudos to the crowd, respectful, enthusiastic, curious, all smiles. Kudos to the artists, for their performances but also for the genuine sense of community and collaboration they showed, turning up to watch each other's sets.

Ready to buy tickets for next year?

Photo by Joseph Desler Costa

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