Warning: You are now entering Pitchfork Music Festival
By Sheba White
Published: July 19th, 2008 | 11:30am
“Sometimes I think that’s what hip-hop is about, to make you listen, go into a zone, and go … whoa, what the hell was that?” — Public Enemy’s Chuck D
If Pitchfork Music Festival 2007 were a band, it might be something like the second-billed act on 2008’s opening night: a blur of awkward moments, antiquated wankery, and breathtaking momentum a day late and a dollar short. Thankfully, this year’s PMF is looking more like the legendary returnees opening its 2008 bill: Mission of Burma.
Mission of Burma opened the three-day festival by playing the entirety of its 1982 12-song classic, Vs., warming up the early-evening audience with what bassist Clint Conley said were “a few extra [songs] at the top, because we knew you’d settle for nothing less than the ‘definitive edition.’”
The hour-long set could have easily collapsed under the mushy, wind-swept sound problems of previous years’ festivals, but this year’s sound revamp made Mission of Burma’s vintage Vox and Marshall amps move beyond the basement party vibe of 2006’s performance with clearly defined frequencies amid the marching beats, blurps, and blips of Vs.’s post-punk luster.
It helped that veteran sound engineer Bob Weston was at the controls on tape loops, particularly in one hush-inducing moment between side one and side two of Vs. when Weston played a hip-hop-y album-ending loop. “Now on to side two,” legendary guitarist Roger Miller shouted to the rapt crowd:
“We’re at a time now when lyrical content should be at an extreme high. But we still see some of the same stuff regurgitated.” — Public Enemy’s Hank Shocklee
After the controlled professionalism of Mission of Burma, Sebadoh’s awkward stage presence brought back the previous years’ frustration-fostering interludes. “I just hope they don’t have that poetry guy there,” one festival-goer was overheard saying, referring to a local MC prone to appearing moments prior to long-awaited concerts in Chicago. “No offense, dude, but give me more music, not more talk.”
Would it were that Sebadoh’s ears were attuned to this simple request, then its hour-too-long set performing 1993’s Bubble And Scrape could have made the dense sonic sandwich of Mission of Burma and Public Enemy that much meatier. Instead, what Sebadoh delivered was flinty between-song banter and off-color jokes fit for rocking chairs and wide verandas, not a crowd amped up and waiting for Flavor Flav and Chuck D to appear.
At one point during the set, lo-fi hero Lou Barlow mildly taunted the impatient crowd with Garrison Keillor–esque lilting talk of band members’ travels, but perhaps noting the crowd’s response, tried desperately to recoup attention by categorizing multi-instrumentalist Jason Loewenstein’s recent kayaking adventure to Maine as a journey into the “whitest state in America.” The comment would have garnered feedback had not half the audience been looking to the Public Enemy stage with yearning. In Sebadoh’s defense, they seemed equally — if a bit too presciently — perplexed with the line up. “Why the fuck does Pitchfork have us onstage?” asked Barlow midway into the set. “I mean, who the fuck are we?”
“And ladies and gentlemen … where the fuck is Flavor Flav?” — Public Enemy’s Chuck D
2007’s Pitchfork brought in noise-rock heroes Sonic Youth to finish off PMF’s opening night. It’s only fitting that similarly hyphenated pioneers should follow. By the time the production team (the Bomb Squad) behind the Public Enemy sound hit the Aluminum stage, the crowd was “ice-grillin’” the stage’s skirt and pumping fists in time to Keith Shocklee’s instructions.
“All the hip-hop fans, make some noise,” Shocklee shouted over the crowd. “Are you ready to do some shit? Say, ‘Turn it up!’ Say, ‘Turn it up!’ Then, ‘Fight the power!’”
Ironically, it was this intro into the first song off Public Enemy’s It Takes a Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back where the ghost of Pitchfork’s past sound problems temporarily reappeared via Chuck D’s mic. Once resolved, the issues dissipated for the most part, but the remainder of the legendary Long Island hip-hop group’s set was plagued by low levels, with Chuck D’s and Flavor Flav’s vocals not quite cutting through the beats the Bomb Squad was throwing down.
No matter, the crowd continued to mouth the words for them, legions of hyped-up fans on and offstage lip-syncing through the 16 tracks on the 1988 classic as if reading the Bible in Braille.
Like most messengers of change, the two legendary MCs sprinkled their conversation with admonishments against mind control, government control, and war, ending the night with an extended 45-minute overtime closing that saw a Flavor Flav drum solo, the addition of four tracks off of Public Enemy’s 1990 platinum record, Fear Of a Black Planet to the night’s menu, and an ending wherein Flavor Flav encouraged everyone to “fuck Bush” and fight for peace and power.
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READ MORE OF VENUSZINE.COM’S PITCHFORK MUSIC FESTIVAL COVERAGE
Day 2: The aliens land on Pitchfork’s second day, but another foreigner steals the show
Day 3: It’s the last night of Pitchfork. Do you know where your band is?
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