Radio Free Chicago

Pitchfork 2010:Recap

With the sweltering Chicago sun present, the annual music festival from the online indie rock gods Pitchfork commenced at Union park where hordes of the country's hipsters and music buffs congregated. Friday was a busy day of missed interviews, long lines and a final relaxing moment enjoying the closing set by the evening's headliners, Modest Mouse.

 I had the unfortunate pleasure of listening to The Tallest Man on Earth battle with the hot sun with his heartfelt set and raspy voice as I waited in the seemingly never ending will call line. “Nostalgic Euphoria” pretty much sums up my sensory response to the festival's opening evening as this being my first opportunity to catch a full set from Modest Mouse since a brief opening set in 2003. This Portland act played a large role in the early shaping of my musical taste; when I moved to Chicago I found myself delving into different styles than what was normal for me at the time but certain bands became constant residents in the cd player, Modest Mouse being one of those. With the opening notes of this evening's set “Tiny Cities Made of Ashes” reignited these pleasure moments flashing through my psyches as I waited in line for my opportunity to photograph the band in action. Playing an extended rendition as they ultimately transition into a tease of “King Rat” exciting the crowd and granting the first wave of pit photographers a ten minute free reign of shots as we unfortunately shot part of a three minute “Here it Comes”. Regardless of what I got to shoot, I was elated to hear Isaac Brock's raspy voice jest as he had himself set up on the corner of the stage alternating between guitars and mics. They played an excellent mix of classic Modest Mouse with newer tracks bridging the two generations of fans and leaving the crowd screaming for a second encore excited and pumped for what was to come this weekend.

The Tallest Man On Earth -  Thousand Ways

RFC Reviews: Pitchfork Music Festival 2010

Last week, RFC's own writing/rapping phenom Emanuel Vinson braved the heat and the hipsters of Union Park for the Pitchfork Music Festival for not one, not two, but all three days. See what he had to say about the fest with photography by Josh Darr!

Friday

El-P's set started off very shakily- El's backing music, with all its bombast and layers initially just sounded like a seizuring subwoofer and his mic continuously messed up throughout. But at a certain point in the set (maybe around the solo on the giant keytar or the A Tribe Called Quest call-and-response) every thing started to click in. It's not just that he makes impossibly epic industrial rap, it's that he hooks you into its emotional core. Enough so that (especially given the rough beginning) the closing one-two punch of "How to Serve Man" and "The Overly Dramatic Truth," definitely felt more than a little cathartic.

I consider myself a fairly big Liars fan. Even so, there are definitely parts of their albums that I enjoy more than others. Aside from recent single "Scissor," the more visceral side of Liars doesn't often intermingle with their more ethereal, creeping side. What is thrilling on record (like "Plaster Casts of Everything") was incredible live on Friday. However, the more tedious aspects of their discography were also present in full and often derailed the tension and momentum of the set. Still, lead singer Angus Andrew was magnetic and charismatic, and the Bauhaus cover was a beast.

I took the chance after Liars to go get some food and wander around, but coming back I caught the tail end of Robyn's set. And during that last half, it was a hell of a show. She sounded great, her band sounded great, and she looked great throwing herself into every inch of her songs. I definitely regret not being up front and center for the spectacle. My favorite moment was during "None of Dem," when she punctuated the line "None of these boys can dance..." with a quick "it's true!," in reference to her decidedly nonrhythmic Pitchforkfest audience.

So Broken Social Scene are all-growed up. Granted, I should have seen it coming, what with all the fedoras. Still, what once felt on record like a chaotic group of brilliant girls & boys singing their hearts out has pretty much transitioned into a few cool dads and their friends playing around onstage. Which is a realization that tainted my perception of the set somewhat (Someone referred to them as a "nostalgia act!" Already?!) but it was still a very good show. Not a lot there that wasn't there when I saw them a year ago, but if BSS are done breaking new ground, they're still dependable as ever. Best quote of the fest comes from Kevin Drew's closing statement: "Hope isn't a word- it's a fucking responsibility!"

Modest Mouse were also very good, if not entirely spectacular. I think there was a little bit too much emphasis on the blandest of their new material ("Education" and "Autumn Beds" bore me so much I can't stand it), though opening with The Moon & Antarctica deep cut "Tiny Cities of Ashes" was way inspired.They jammed a lot throughout the set, but it always felt tasteful and dynamic. Isaac was amicable and funny, talking to the crowd a surprising amount about important things like being too drunk and eating glow sticks. The band did a good job of reminding just how underrated Good News is, but I really think if they had played even one Lonesome Crowded West track it would have elevated the set significantly.

Saturday

 The two obvious (and oft-mentioned) touchstones for New Jersey's Titus Andronicus are Bright Eyes and Bruce Springsteen. The first time I saw the band, they were opening up for Los Campesinos! and quite possibly outshined said headliners. They were perfect then, and they were perfect on Saturday. Opening with "A More Perfect Union," the lead single from this year's excellent The Monitor, Titus roared through a set that was stacked with one joyously desperate singalong after another. 

The Smith Westerns let their hometown advantage bleed into their onstage swagger, with lead singer Cullen Omori slyly mugging it up in-between songs. The songs themselves are good enough; besides "Be My Girl" I'm not that familiar with their album, and wasn't necessarily compelled by their Saturday set to become familiar. I hear a lot about the craziness of old Smith Westerns shows in much tinier venues, so it sounds like a festival setting- while certainly a good look- wasn't necessarily conducive to their vibe. 

Wolf Parade gave an interview a few months ago saying that they felt like new album Expo 86 was the sonic equivalent of the gigantic music notes in Archie comics that floated from the speakers during a party. Besides being my favorite metaphor ever, it definitely felt like a true one during their set. Their setup was on point, and every song sounded great. The energy of the crowd during favorites like "I'll Believe in Anything" and new (excellent) single "Ghost Pressure" was uncontainable. They finished up with an extended "Kissing the Beehive," during which their usual weirdo indie rock sound eventually transformed into straight up prog metal during a time-signature slashing breakdown that I never wanted to end (and for a while seemed like it wouldn't).

If you're an avid listener to LCD Soundsystem's disco/post-punk hybrid, then you are probably regretting not seeing them at Pitchfork. And unless you're one of the p4k attendees who didn't get the memo about "North American Scum" I'd take a guess that you feel like I did- they delivered on every level. The setlist was a perfect blend from all three of their albums and James Murphy and band were killing it the entire night. The thrill of being in the full presence of a song like "All My Friends" live is a pure rush of ecstatic emotion. All I can say is get tickets to see them the next chance you can.

Sunday

My Sunday started with wandering around dizzily looking for somewhere to get out of the oppressive heat. When I finally settled, it was for Washed Out's set. There's a reason dudes like Washed Out and Neon Indian rose above their chillwave siblings. I'm sure that initially the interest was in the strength of the music, which is definitely excellent on all counts. But beyond being a good musician, Ernest Greene is something of a star. He's disarmingly handsome, easygoing yet precise, and knows how to connect to a crowd just right with his lax charm. Washed Out's set managed to be beautifully dreamlike and physically compelling for the audience, the latter of which Panda Bear's Saturday set had veered far from.

I have a feeling that at least half the crowd up front for Local Natives, like me, were simply waiting it out for Neon Indian and/or Sleigh Bells but by the end of their rapturous set everyone was way into it. Trying to describe their sound ("multi-part harmonies," "afrobeat-inspired rhythyms") would make them sound merely like a pastiche of all that is indie rock in 2010, and maybe they are, but that doesn't change the fact that they're damn good songwriters as well. Lead singer Taylor Rice got more and more into the music as the set went on until he was almost convulsing during the finale and the enthusiasm was contagious as all hell.

Hearing Neon Indian on record vs seeing him and his band live is like the difference between Super Mario World and Super Mario 64. It's hard to refer to Alan Palomo's creations as anything other than jams when you're caught bouncing back and forth to "Deadbeat Summer." And the whole set was jam after jam- even new song "Sleep Paralysis" felt as warm and familiar as anything on Psychic Chasms. I'm definitely onboard the Neon Indian bandwagon for the foreseeable future.

After such a set, Sleigh Bells- another band with only one (near-perfect) album out- had a lot to live up to. It was their homecoming to the festival of the site that crowned them. And when eight amps got wheeled out to the stage, the anticipation was almost unbearable. Especially since we had all missed Major Lazer (the other sureshot party act) to be there. Guitarist Derek Miller and singer/force of nature Allison Krauss came out, the crowd noise rose to a fever pitch, and the set started. But something was wrong- we couldn't hear the guitar ("Infinity," or otherwise) at all. The crowd was still in a frenzy as Allison sashayed, cooed, and yelped across the stage but the sound was pretty much at the same volume that the house music had been in what was easily the most crushing disappointment of the festival. 

Pitchfork 2010 didn't live up to my lofty expectations of BEST P4K EVER, but it was definitely a blast and well worth the time and money. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! See you next year!

Nathaniel Rateliff at Schubas 7.21.10

In a time of smoke and mirrors music, it is rare and remarkable to see a band stripped down the rawness and honesty of talent and skill. Nathaniel Rateliff and his band stopped by Schubas on their first headlining tour, and I’m proud to say that Chicago gave them the warmest of welcomes.  Finally seeing this band for a full, give-us-what-we-want set, I felt like I was seeing them for the first time. Americana rock, however you want to describe it, is a moving, truthful form of musical get-down that was made to be heard in barns and around campfires across our economically stricken land. Or in our case, in warm Schubas intimacy with a room full of people who very clearly appreciate and adore Nathaniel Rateliff & Co. with the same fervor. Shroud and Early Spring Till were standouts as always, with harmonies that hit you in such a way that you’re frozen, amazed, and somewhat jealous. An hour-long set with a three-song encore is what I’m goddamn talking about. Thank you, friends, for bringing Chicago something fine on a sticky summer night. We are grateful.

Nathaniel Rateliff - Boil & Fight

Langhorne Slim, Ha Ha Tonka, and Young Man Hit Lincoln Hall Tonight

Last fall, I got to pop my Lincoln Hall cherry with one of the fledgling venues first shows, Dawes and Langhorne Slim. It was not only my first experience at what would become my favorite venue but my first experience with seeing Langhorne Slim as well. To say I was thoroughly impressed with Sean Scolnick and his band of folk scamps is an understatement. Bringing a consistent amount of contagious energy to his set that's lacking on the album, Scolnick leads sing alongs, jumps into the audience, and sweet talks girls into getting on stage with him. Sounds like a party? Add the Southern tinged Midwest rock of Ha Ha Tonka and the dreamy pop of new RFC favorites Young Man and you've got yourself one solid bill. Tonight, the bands hit Lincoln Hall again and last night, roving reporter Amber Valentine got to catch the bill at Detroit's Magic Stick and snapped more than a few pics of the bands.

Langhorne Slim - Rebel Side Of Heaven

Pitchfork Music Festival 2010: An Article in Photos

This weekend, RFC's own Shani Kaesler, like most of Chicago's hippest kids-about-town, hit Union Park for the Pitchfork Music fest to catch everyone from Free Energy to Beach House. Braving the photo pit and the heat, Shani's returned from her excursion a little more tan, a lot more tired, and with nearly 30 photos for ya'll to peruse.

 

Barn Lights, No City: A Daytrotter Narrative

You spend the better part of a day traveling alone. The car is a humid excuse for transportation, and you truly wish you’d sprung for the repair of its air conditioning system. The first people you come into contact with after five hours liken your appearance to some girl drink swilling, faux beach bum styled pop star. This was not your intention. You belittle yourself accordingly and attempt to move the conversation forward.  Your attempts succeed. The group of people with whom you’ve convened exit the establishment. You follow.

You re-situate yourself back into your vehicle and proceed down a series of labyrinthine back roads adorned only with painted wooden signs. These signs are quaint, olde timey, and deliberately so. They remind you of the kind of farm-quirk one might find hanging on the wall of a Cracker Barrel restaurant. The signs serve as motivational posters for the road weary. 

Hang in there! 
You’ve come so far!
Don’t give up!
Barnstormer is just a dirt road away! 

The car full of your comrades slows and enters a fenced-in pasture. The sky is the dismal grey of a country storm. What you see before you is a mixture of rolling, blowing hills and trees. As you park, you notice a white-haired man assisting Daytrotter fans in finding their place aboard the HayrackRide/ShuttleBus. You start to wonder just how deeply into this farmland you are going to go. You exit your vehicle. A damp, dark line has formed across your shirt where the seatbelt had been holding your chest. Again, you lament your choice of attire. You mill around your vehicle until one of your comrades suggests that you begin the relatively short walk to a barn lovingly referred to as Codfish Hollow. 

There are several people making this trek, all either too late for the hayrack shuttle or simply opting for exercise. You think for a split second that you can hear a banjo lilting along with the summer breeze. You decide to ignore it and follow the dusty path toward the barn. 

Jonny Corndawg-When a Ford Man Turns to Chevy (Daytrotter Session)

You turn a corner to see the monolithic barn stand proudly surrounded by a green sea of healthy cornstalks.You make note that it must be a good year for crops as the corn had most definitely surpassed knee-height weeks ago. There are bearded men, tight pants, pretty ladies, and precocious youths filing in and out of the wooden entryway. You pay your admission, and receive a pair of thick, black sunglasses with the word Daytrotter written on the side. Unfortunately, the sky is still a shade of grey that absolutely negates the use of sunglasses.  So you say your hellos to old friends and anxiously begin searching for alcohol.

RFC Was Barn On the 4th Of July: A Daytrotter Adventure With The Walkmen.

I remember when I first heard The Walkmen. It was on that car commercial, years back. Where a bunch of post-college kids drive through adulthood to opening notes of “We’ve Been Had”. It was just a car commercial but something about the dreamy notes and dramatic vocals buried themselves my head until it became something of an obsession for me, a mission to find out just who that band was and to find out if every song they produced could yield such a magical affect. A quick googling provided the answer and within a few days, I had procured Everyone Who Pretended To Like Me Is Gone, an album that came to orchestrate my post-high school years with it’s bitter realism juxtaposed against a dreamy, overexposed background.

 

There’s a reason that so many bands these days sound heavily influenced by Everyone Who Pretended To Like Me Is Gone and the Walkmen’s subsequent efforts. It’s because they’re damn good.

 

I’d heard rumors before the 4^th that the “secret headliner” for Barn on the 4^th of July was going to be The Walkmen. The moment I confirmed it with Mr. Daytrotter himself, Sean Moeller, the excitement I already felt in anticipation for the Barnstormer reached a fever pitch, an anxious need to get to Iowa and get there as soon as I could, all the while listening only to Bows + Arrows, You + Me, and, of course, Everyone Who Pretended To Like Me Is Gone.

The Walkmen - We've Been Had

The Walkmen -  The Rat

Video courtesy of the fine folks at Rock Of The Arts. 

RFC Was Barn On the 4th Of July: A Daytrotter Adventure With Dawes.

2009 saw some stellar releases from artists that I’d loved from anywhere from two years of my life to over ten but when it came time to order my top albums of the year, a band of newcomers took the top spot with a stellar debut that was evocative of something much grander than the member’s youth should be able to produce. Naturally, I’m talking about the darlings of Daytrotter, Dawes and their LP North Hills.

Everything about Dawes is not what it seems. Taylor and Griffin Goldsmith write songs that quote philosophers while preaching life lessons that make them seem nothing if not wise far beyond their almost painfully young years. They play like seasoned veterans with Wylie Gelber and Alex Casnoff providing more to the music than you would ever guess from hearing the record. 

To say that seeing Dawes live makes their album seem fairly bland is quite possibly the biggest compliment that could be given to the quartet. North Hills has quickly risen to the ranks of one of my most played albums of the past five years, not just my favorite record of 2009, but despite its magnanimity, Dawes brings forth an energy live that I’ve yet to see any band duplicate. Yes, I’ve seen Dawes before and I’ll see Dawes again but despite that fact, the moment it was announced that they boys would be playing Barn on the 4^th of July, it was cemented that I was going. Seeing one of my favorite musical discoveries of my adult life play in a barn is something not be missed and Dawes, per usual, did not disappoint. It was truly Dawes’s crowd in Makoqueta, with everyone from 14 year old boys to 20-something hipsters to 60 year old men singing along to Taylor’s every word and taking them all to heart whilst doing so. When Taylor curses the western skyline, everyone in Maquoketa does too and when Griffin talks about how far he’s come, everyone in Maquoketa echoes his sentiments with bellowing devotion.

Dawes - How Far We've Come (Live At Daytrotter)

Video via Codfish Hollow Barnstormer's Facebook.

Peppering the set with new material off what is almost certain to become one of the best albums of 2011, Taylor, Griffin, Alex, and Wylie tore through the 4^th of July with their usual virile passion for the songs they’ve penned, a type of fervor for their art that is so rarely exhibited by musicians after having played the same songs almost every night for well over a year. It didn’t matter to them, however, that the songs were familiar. If anything, it was bolstering and welcomed.

“Western Skyline” found new power with a chorus of people who knew each lyric, who all understand just how special Dawes is and who all know that one day soon, these California natives are going to hit it big, real big, and will be playing to the likes of sold out crowds at Lincoln Hall, so they treasure the time they get with Dawes because they all know, it’s just a matter of time before the rest of the world understands the sublimity of Dawes.

It was said by more than one person talking about their Barnstorming experience that the powerful “When My Time Comes”, one of North Hills strongest and most immediately accessible tracks, was the best song of the entire night – And that was said after The Walkmen blew everyone away. While Dawes did have my favorite set of the night, I must give The Walkmen the accolade of best song but even if no secret headliner existed and Dawes had closed out the night, I still would be saying I had the best weekend of my life. Great friends, great music, and great beer in a cornfield in Iowa. If life can get more special than that, I’ll gladly live in ignorance of whatever comes next because what Daytrotter has given us with the Barnstormer experience is more than enough to let me live the rest of my life out contented.

Dawes at Daytrotter

Photography by Spencer Wells.

Tomorrow? Part four! With The Walkmen!

RFC Was Barn On the 4th Of July: A Daytrotter Adventure. Part 2.

Well, kids, sometimes even Editor in Cheifs toddle off to the keg and don’t make it back to the barn in a timely manner. In this case “not making it back to the barn in a timely manner” means wandering off after Jonny Corndawg and Dawes tore Codfish Hallow to pieces and making it back only just in time for Dawes to take the stage again. Where was I? What was I doing? Oh, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that photographer Mark Fain was not only right in the thick of it for These United States but also loved every second of it.

 

 
“These United States front man Jesse Elliott has not only what is probably the coolest name in indie music but also a slight resemblance to Robin Pecknold, a positive energy that travels through every extremity before bursting out of his coolly strained voice, and most importantly, a really great band behind him. While it is hard to imagine many of these songs working as acoustic tunes that could be played solo, that does not seem to be the goal. Don't get me wrong—these aren't Andrew W.K songs or anything. These songs acknowledge sadness, certainly, but then they transcend it. The sonic bliss that comes from the pedal steel atmospheres and rocking guitar, bass, and drums is the vehicle for the substance, which seems for the most part to say, ‘I've had bad times, but I'll find a way to feel good.’ ‘Feel better southern folk punk’ is a descriptor that seems as silly as it does appropriate. Aside from all of the above, I'm just a huge sucker for pedal steel.”

 

- Mark Fain

These United States - The Great River

These United States at Daytrotter

RFC Was Barn On the 4th Of July: A Daytrotter Adventure. Part 1.

Attentive readers or twitter followers might already know that this Editor In Chief is currently stationed in Detroit, Michigan, watching the Chicago scene from a 4-Hours-Away perch somewhere in the dregs of suburbia. If there's one thing I love, however, it's a good road trip, and if there's two things that I love, it's anything to do with the internet's number one music discovery tool, Daytrotter. Combine the two? And well, you've got yourself something that I was more than willing to drive 7 hours to be in attendance for.

Daytrotter’s Barn on the 4^th of July was an all out blowout in the fashion of their previous 3 Barnstormer tours and the special thing about the event is the fact that the people that it  brought out were people who genuinely care about music and care about what founding father Sean Moeller is doing for indie music in the Midwest. Those douchebags talking loudly in the back throughout sets? You won't find them in attendance. Instead, you'll find some of the most dedicated music fans in the world. Plus, it's a rock and roll show in a barn featuring bands that you'll never see in such a unique venue. Delta Spirit? Ra Ra Riot? Local Natives? Dawes? They're all Barnstormer alums and it was a repeat barn performance by Dawes that was the catalyst for me to decide to take the trek out Iowa way. Plus, they were on a bill with such stellar and winning musicians as Jonny Corndawg, These United Sates, Justin Townes Earle, Young Man and a super secret headliner, which ended up being, of all bands, The Walkmen.

What you’re about to read is gonna get lengthy, so grab a cup of coffee and get comfy. This is the first of five entries about Daytrotter’s Barn on the 4^th of July.

 

Free Energy Hits the Road. Hard.

For most people, grinding it out every day and working hard enough to make something that matters is a grueling, challenging bore. For Free Energy, taking to the road for months on end and spreading throwback rock love across the nation is not only accomplishing something remarkable, it’s also a damn blast. I caught up with the band in Los Angeles for a two-night hangout at the Echoplex, with Mates of State headlining.

Burning through the country, generating face-tingling buzz, the boys show no signs of slowing down any time soon.  And why would they?  When you get to play exactly what you yourself would want to listen to, dance to, and makeout to every night, life is pretty rad. Night after night the boys bring both a nostalgic rock vibe and a fresh, fist-pumping spirit that is largely absent from the mild-mannered indie rock scene. In their spare time, they’re digging up cassette tapes, buying vans safe enough to cross state lines, and guerrilla hot-tubbing. I was sad to let them go. After a set of sweet moves, legit guitar sounds and melodies that hook into brain and stay there, everyone wants more. Like candy. For this reason, the band has been referred to as a novelty, one that’s longevity could be limited to the youth of sticky hot summer days and inner tubes on rivers. This narrow thought couldn’t be further from the truth. Last I checked, fun times and music that makes you feel good aren’t going out of style any time soon. And amped rock that manages to mix the best of the old with a completely new and kickass power is something we’ve been starved for.  Free Energy is letting us get fed. Those of us lucky enough to live in Chicago get them for the Pitchfork Music Festival this month. Everyone else should check a calendar and buy some tickets. I think right about now they’re rocking the pants off the southern part of the country. Which is, I suppose, just another day at the office.   

RFC at the Green Music Festival 2010

West Town's Green Music Festival boasted one of the best lineups on the street in recent memory. Fang Island, Maps & Atlases, and David Bazan were a sight for sunburned eyes. Fang Island's nonstop guitars and hollering choruses together with Maps & Atlases expert indie left us feeling more than alright, and David Bazan's impeccable sound and familiar presence were a true treat for Chicago's streetfesting masses.

 

Hurricane Bells @ Subterranean 5/14/2010

Hurricane Bells came by my way rather haphazardly. As with many, my first exposure was through the New Moon soundtrack, yet it slipped under my consciousness since I don't stare at the track listing. Not more than a week ago, the band resurfaced by word-of-mouth of a friend who I had run into at previous concerts. Nevertheless, I, along with those remnants who stuck around after King Sparrow, were lifted and stirred by "The Winters in New York" opening late Friday night's set.

Los Campesinos! @ Metro 4/30/10

The Cardiff eight-piece has always thrown caution to the wind. Worries about the sophomoric slump? None, their second album was released months after the debut. Tiny crystals of volcanic glass getting sucked into jet engines? Pssh. Jumping past the barriers into the crowd without losing a riff? Check and mate. Los Campesinos! wrapped up April with what Gareth thinks was their biggest gig of their current Stateside tour, upgrading to the storied venue from the much, much smaller Empty Bottle in the course of less than two years. That time has lapsed since this writer has seen the UK indie rockers, leaving a big question mark to how they've weathered the storms.

We Are Wolves @ Subterranean 4/22/10

 

A hotbed in independent music typically bludgeons genres into newfangled creative molds. And such with all hotbeds, eventually the critical public will lose interest and move on after sapping it to the core. Well, Subterranean on Thursday reaffirmed that, even after Arcade Fire and Wolf Parade erupted more than Eyjafallajokull, Quebec is still pumping out fissures of post-rock hotness. To boot, so too is Los Angeles.