Sunday Music: Pitchfork Festival
I intended writing a post when I returned home last night, but the urge to lie down was too overwhelming. I spent much of the last two days at the Pitchfork Music Festival, in Chicago's Union Park. Against all odds, I did not get heat stroke or food poisoning. However, the dogs are killing me.
The woman distributing wristbands in the beer ticket line chuckled when she saw my ID. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm older than you." We were definitely not in the main demographic, but I saw a few fellow gray-hairs in the crowd. Even more seemed to be up on stage, especially during the performances of now-vintage bands like Mission of Burma and Dinosaur Jr. Sheesh. Where did the 90s go, again?
Earlier this year, the New York Times printed a series of charts created by artist Andrew Kuo, tracking his waxing and waning enjoyment of the Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival.[Link] Kuo remembered that at one point during his first music festival, the 1992 Lollapalooza, that he "didn't want to be there any more." That sentiment swept over me fully only once, on Sunday, while M. Ward performed on the main stage. The sun came out in full force over the rain-soaked grounds, making it feel like a steam bath. When I couldn't take it any more, I fled to the leafy shade near stage C, and lay flat on my back on a makeshift tarp. Half a dozen people rested around me. I nearly drifted off, despite the simulated gunfire from Ghostface Killah. Later, as the sun dropped behind buildings to the west, I met up with a friend. We listened to Spiritualized, and ate handfuls of cherries.
Pitchfork Music Festival Playlist (streaming audio & downloads) [Link].
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