Foxygen’s set could easily be renamed to the Sam France Show, and rightfully so. France reportedly has much more fun at festivals than he does at his usual indoor gigs, and boy does it show. Whatever drugs he was on certainly made an interesting performance, as his stage presence channels a combination of Mic Jagger, Animal from The Muppets, and a dancing Charlie Brown Character.
In the first song, he runs around the entire span of the stage, stands up front on a speaker and gyrates for a few seconds, screams, and then climbs the Red Stage scaffolding. He jumps don’t an easy eight feet and the entire audience holds their breath. He is fine, and continues the song.
In the middle of the set, they make a public service announcement: “The Space Jam website has not been changed since 1996,” says Jonathan Rodman. This sort of remark embodies their band perfectly—funny, lucky, free. They play their usual hits, but give about 60% more than what’s on the recording, screaming and making noise as if you’ve never heard the song before. Foxygen paves the way for a new and improved Manic Pixie Dream Girl.
Sky Ferreira’s hit “Everything is Embarrassing” reads like some kind of sad confessional, reeking of self-deprecation and social anxiety (as the name would suggest). Ferreira is anything but. The Blue Stage is the perfect place for her, as trees canopy over a smaller, more forgiving crowd that likes to sway-dance more than they like to real-dance.
Chairlift is up next on the blue stage, and Carolyn Polachek’s outfit reminds us of some breed of hippie mermaid. She wears a boxy, green crop top and high-waisted billowy pants to match, a silvery stripe down both sides. You can see her glittering eye make-up from the back of the crowd, a large bleached strip horizontally across her hair, and long ribbons tied to her wrist, which she makes use of for pre-meditated ribbon dancing.
Chairlift’s 2012 album “Something” is more experimental sound paired with airy, operatic vocals. They oblige with their oldie crowd pleaser “Bruises” to the delight of those who only know her for that song (like us).
The crowd for M.I.A. started waiting two hours before she went on. Matangi fanatics are different from any other fanbase at Pitchfork. They are meaner, they are better dancers, they are decked out in face paint, high-standing hair, and little clothing. M.I.A. enters wearing only a glittery gold sack-dress and a snarl. She holds a gilded fan that she trashes around during the set.
Her backup dancers are clad in red, and make up the most energetic ensemble we’ve seen yet. Her stage has flashing lights referential to the music’s Southeastern inspiration, as spirals of light bulbs flash and wow, an enormous fixture at the top says, MATANGI.
“Make Some Noise,” Maya says, and her crowd overcompensates. Through “Boyz” and “Bucky Done Gun,” her chanting is slightly off beat, and occasionally she gives up in lieu of jumping into the audience to dance with the fans. She is visibly angry about something, and her audience absolutely loves it. Being up front, we acquired quite a few bruises, sweat-drenched clothes, and a kick in the head from crowd-surfers. It is a dangerous place, the M.I.A. stage, as fans prioritize dancing above all else.
M.I.A. experiences some technical difficulties. She is visibly pissed throughout the entire set, her mixing board does not turn on, and two of her songs break up in the middle of song. She screams, “CUT IT,” for two of her performances, which is not exactly a pro move. In her defense, for her finale “Bad Girls” to sever mid-chorus because of technical difficulties is a hard folly to cover, but luckily her fans finished out the song a capella.
R.Kelly is a living legend, and he knows it. His entire show opens with a countdown, and with a modest piano intro, a few dozen gospel singers file in, wearing elegant robes serious faces. They warm up the audience with hand-clapping as the audience waits for Kels, and surprise! He pops up from the middle of the chorus wearing a bedazzled white shirt and holding a diamond-encrusted microphone. He excuses the chorus and starts the audience out with “Ignition Remix,” and the choir is only used once more after. A true diva, R. Kelly is.
R. Kelly then takes home the crown for “Greatest Pitchfork Crowd Pleaser” as he engages in an hour-and-a-half medley of the best in his discography. This includes an a capella rendition of “Sex In The Kitchen” that is simultaneously self-indulgent and deeply interactive.
R. Kelly loves song-banter, as he makes the entire audience chant with him “can I get a towel to wipe my face, ‘cuz I’m sweaty than a motherfucker.” It’s funny banter, but it is not impromptu, as we learned that he used the same gimmick at Bonnaroo. Busted!
His performance is still emotionally moving. “It aint been easy, y’all just don’t know,” he said. “As I look at the crowd tonight and see people that love me…I been in this business 27 years. I’m not gon’ front, that make me wanna fuckin’ cry.” He releases hundreds of white balloon doves and closes out the magical Pitchfork weekend with a return of the gospel choir for “I Believe I Can Fly.”
