Tortoise. Photo: Jacob Nelson
Spare showers blanketed Union Park and early-arriving fans before the kickoff of the latest installment of the Pitchfork Music Festival, premiering its latest gimmick: the ticket holder–curated Write the Night series—an alternative to the already rote phenomenon of reproducing a seminal album from front to back. Seeing local art-rock mafia all-stars Tortoise open the show, it seemed ironic that what was intended to be a greatest hits victory lap was instead an awkward obstacle. Live performances typically allow the pioneering instrumental band to stretch out, straying from the ornate production marking its discography.
In fact, the innate thrill of seeing live music in any shape or form is what’s unexpected, not the opposite. So while the five-piece has a burning new beat-heavy LP, Beacons of Ancestorship, those tunes are still too new to be fan faves. Actually, the band’s been playing Beacons‘ “Yinxianghechengqi” for years, but because nobody ever knew the name (let alone how to pronounce it), the band was essentially forbidden from playing that and the rest of its new disc.
Nostalgic cuts from Millions Now Living Will Never Die (”DJed”), Standards (”Seneca”) and TNT (”Swung From The Gutters”), filled the set, propelled by the hyper-rhythmic drumming of John McEntire, John Herndon and Dan Bitney, not to mention the reliably tasteful guitar-work of Jeff Parker and Doug McCombs. But for a band of this caliber that’s been touring behind an ambitious new album, it was hard to overlook that the festival’s main attraction was actually its biggest impediment. For many of us anxious to hear the new tunes performed live, we’ll have to wait until the next hometown show (no word yet as to when that will be).
The Jesus Lizard. Photo: Martha Williams
The Jesus Lizard didn’t have that problem, as the band hasn’t written any new songs in over a decade. For its first Chicago date since reuniting for a victory lap, the band was happy to oblige a crowd hungry for staples of the band’s brilliant run on Touch and Go. Frontman David Yow launched himself into the crowd from the first chord of set-opener “Puss.” Playing songs of Pure, Head, Goat and Liar and Down, the foursome didn’t miss a beat. When people say that a band “killed it,” this is exactly what they mean. Though in this instance, “it” would be the many fans’ heads and shoulders which Yow routinely climbed over, not to mention the numerous fellow crowdsurfers losing their socks and shoes while suspended in the fray.
It was exactly what many of us had been eagerly anticipating, including the ample Pitchfork staff and security (very good sports, by the way, namely one bulky security guard who gamely allowed Yow to molest his bald head). These “handlers” carefully and attentively chaperoned Yow, enabling him to climb through the crowd without fear of losing his mic chord and pulling him back on stage like a rag doll. Matt Espy of Andy’s Music lurked on the sidelines like a ball boy, picking up the mic stand and wiping up excess gobs of whatever fluid stained the stage. Even the Budweiser-guzzling Yow was joking about Espy’s efficiency.
It was clear from the onset that the band could do no wrong, blowing everyone away with meaty grooves and ultra-precise guitars. The band even played an encore, including the furious “Boilermaker,” propelled by the kinetic playing of Duane Denison and David Sims on guitar and bass, respectively, while drummer Mac McNeilly furiously crashed away. By the end, Denison was rolling around on his back before ceding the stage to McNeilly for a show-closing breakdown. It was more than most of us could’ve asked for, but for those who weren’t there, the band promises to cap its reunion run with a Chicago date close to Thanksgiving.
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