The best of Pitchfork Music Festival 2021

“It’s been awhile.” With those mild-mannered words, Dogleg launched into one of the most exuberant sets of the weekend, a full-frontal sonic assault of the band’s hardcore-meets-hummable punk-rock stew. Given the general dearth of similarly intense outfits on the bill, it made for a fantastically engaging kickoff to the Red Stage on Friday, a “Can you top this?” of intensity in which the radius of people bopping their heads and pumping their fists slowly expanded outward from the front of the stage, the definition of winning over a crowd. The shout-alongs, frantic leaps, and falling onto their backs while ripping out a killer set all felt so joyous; plus, bonus points to guitarist-singer Alex Stoitsiadis for pulling off one of his signature one-handed cartwheels within the first song. [Alex McLevy]

The festival may have been pushed back a couple months this year, but the weather throughout the weekend was as summery as it is in July. With a breezy, surfy sound that could accompany a stroll down a boardwalk, Chicago rock trio Dehd fit the sunny vibes to a t. And if there was a sameness from one song to the next in the band’s 45-minute set on Friday afternoon, it only added to the low-key atmosphere. It was a good time to drink a beer, talk to a friend, and make sure your sunscreen was evenly applied for the bright day ahead. [Laura Adamczyk]

For all the fantastic singers that took the stage this year—and at times, it felt like all of them were fantastic—one still stands head and shoulders above the rest. Hop Along’s Frances Quinlan (who did last year, during the beginning of the pandemic) quickly reminded the audience why they have earned comparisons to Janis Joplin (among others), a 21st-century musician who nonetheless conjures impressions of some of rock’s greatest singers. Their voice pivots from sweet to ragged in the space of a breath, the kind of pipes that any warbler would kill to possess (as more than a few admitted, during the weekend). The group ran through a superb series of songs, but mostly, it was a reminder that, when they push themselves, Quinlan can fucking kill it. [Alex McLevy]

During their mid-2000s heyday, Fiery Furnaces were best known for the rock operatic arrangements that could verge on the, for lack of a better word, difficult. Their most ambitious songs were packed with jolting tempo changes, verbose talk-sung lyrics, and an entire junk drawer’s worth of instruments that only musicology PhDs know the names of. For their first outing in over a decade, rather than relying on the dancier, more melodic material in their catalog, Matt and Eleanor Friedberger reworked their songs into even stranger, more complicated renditions. Two drum kits, battling synths and keys, and Eleanor stop-starting all made for a reemergence that was unwaveringly Fiery Furnaces. [Laura Adamczyk]

The mood immediately mellowed following the massive roar that greeted their arrival (understandable), but it didn’t matter. Big Thief singer Adrianne Lenker just started strumming, and as often as possible, the quartet turned their backs to the crowd and form a circle, looking at each other instead of the audience who roared approval at every move. Even the lengthy tuning pause that followed the third track got hearty applause—Big Thief are nothing if not comfortably easygoing, and the people who swayed along to every track were happy to let them take their time. [Alex McLevy]

From song to song, anyone unfamiliar with Bartees Strange’s music could be forgiven for not understanding what, exactly, was happening. The profoundly style-shifting artist made no bones about jumping from one track to the next without worrying about how the early-Saturday-afternoon festival crowd would follow him. Luckily, he’s talented enough that it didn’t matter: A barrage of cheers soon greeted the end of every song, a good sign that whatever he’s doing, it’s working. [Alex McLevy]

Chicago natives Divino Niño exuded comfort on their own turf during Saturday’s set, with an undeniably groovy slate of psychedelic-tinged tracks that filled the air with swayable tunes. Even if you’re not bilingual, romanticism steeped through for Spanish- and English-language linsteners, perfect for lovers looking to sway together. For those who preferred to light up and get down, the group kept things lively by delivering Spanish freestyle raps, transporting us to Florida with a cover of Will Smith’s “Miami.” With an infectious flair, the band gave plenty of opportunities for the crowd to dance their heart out. Several times throughout the amorous set lead singer Camilo Medina passed out his own kisses to the crowd with three, “Mwuah mwuah mwuahs” into the microphone. [Gabrielle Sanchez]

Underneath Faye Webster’s R&B-infused folks offerings comes a whole lot of yearning. Webster brings all the melancholic emotions from her discography on stage, crooning songs about the lingering scent of a lover and the perils of loneliness. As she began the set with “Better Distractions,” Webster sang, “Will you be with me?” which brought pining to the forefront. Closing with “Kingston,” memories flood the mind as she sang the opening line, “The day that I met you I started dreaming,” followed by the swooning steel pedal. Underneath the shade of the Blue Stage, Webster’s tender songs provided the perfect moments to think about a current or old flame. [Gabrielle Sanchez]

What if, instead of whatever arbitrary algorithm of cultural capital that the Pitchfork organizers use to determine the order of each day’s lineup, they arranged the acts from quietest to loudest? A slow but steady build throughout the day until people’s ears are bleeding and all coherent thought is replaced by noise. Were that the case, we’d put Ty Segall & Freedom Band if not right at the end, then close to it. Playing largely off of his latest album, Harmonizer, Segall skewed hard and sludgy and loud. Any pause in the action was like an intake of breath before an even louder, harder exhalation. The festivalgoers didn’t stop banging their heads until the band walked offstage; then they started chanting for an encore. With Kim Gordon tuned up and ready to go at the opposite main stage, no freebies could be given, but we did see the same long-haired crowd-surfing dude get pulled out by security twice. That guy was cool. [Laura Adamczyk]

It feels inaccurate to say that Kim Gordon’s first solo album, No Home Album, didn’t come out until 2019. Yes, it’s accurate, but it’s not metaphysically accurate; in our hearts, Gordon’s distinctive yet wide-ranging artistic metier has been put to tape for decades—it’s just that, prior to this, we called them Sonic Youth songs, or Free Kitten ditties, or Body/Head tracks. Regardless, the underground legend was in fine form at Pitchfork, delivering a performance that was off-putting to the tie-dyed denizens of the “good vibes only” crew in attendance, but absolutely destroyed among those looking for something a little more challenging in their festival lineup. [Alex McLevy]

It would have been an incredible set regardless. For Angel Olsen’s first live show in two years, the singer-songwriter pulled from across her catalog—from 2012’s to this year’s EP of covers, —with most of her set plucked from 2019’s maximal . With strings, synths, and guitar, the arrangements were full but still left room for Olsen’s gorgeous voice to come through front and center. She sounded great and seemed grateful to be there, the crowd equally so. But word on the street (i.e., ) was that Sharon Van Etten was in town, and sure enough, with one last song left, Olsen brought her friend out onstage for a glorious rendition of the pair’s single “Like I Used To.” It was a joyous peak, a crowd-pleasing number that got everyone singing along and smiling ear to ear. [Laura Adamczyk]

As St. Vincent, Annie Clark knows the art of performance, taking notes from artists like Davids Byrne and Bowie for a seamless and captivating set as Saturday’s headliner. As Saturday eve, she balanced her typical meticulous demeanor with a relaxed and nearly reckless energy, cranking up the heat on the old hits and letting things simmer with newer songs. In true rock-star fashion, the audience in front of her hung onto every word and electrifying motion—she’s probably the only one who could get away with a skit involving a phone call from her sister, which she used to call out the 6.8 grade the hosting publication gave her for Daddy’s Home. As things reached their climax, St. Vincent took time to shred before carelessly launching her guitar side stage; even those who had seen her many times before were given something new to latch onto. [Gabrielle Sanchez]

Stepping up to the stage with just her acoustic guitar, Sarah Tomberlin was a vision in white as she began the first set of Sunday. The pared down performance paired with the singer-songwriter’s impeccable vocal performance created a spiritual air. With the spires of First Baptist Congregational reaching out in the skyline behind Union Park, Tomberlin began to lead her own nondenominational church service for the crowd. With her vocals came an empowered tenderness, spurring chills just as the heat began to rise over the park. With the fitting “Sin,” Tomberlin meditated over lines like “I don’t mind sinning if it’s with you,” and “Say a prayer, lay your hands on me, I just wanna be clean.” She even pitched up on the holiness of the air, ending her set with a call-and-response: “Because we’re at church and shit.” [Gabrielle Sanchez]

“Gin Blossoms of emo” might be the most accurate term here; that’s not an insult so much as it is an acknowledgement that oso oso might not be a band tailor-made for a Sunday-afternoon festival setting. The group’s plaintive, mid-tempo rock energy lost something in translation to the festival stage. Jade Lilitri’s sunny, laid-back crooning didn’t really come across as compelling in this environment (the group’s fans crowding the stage obviously disagreed); maybe check them out in a dark and sweaty club, where their sensibilities feel less cornball and more alive, rather than the “indie-rock barbecue” vibe given off here. [Alex McLevy]

R&B vocalist Mariah The Scientist prefaced this particular cover with, “This feels like a festival song and I’ve always wanted to cover this song.” Breaking away for a moment from her smooth, sensually laced hits, Mariah had her DJ kick on a backing track to asking the crowd to sing along if they knew the words. The moment was short-lived as she cut the track halfway through, just as her devotees were getting into it. After waving the song away, she stated simply, “I just always wanted to try that.” It would have been frustrating if Mariah did not exude charm as easily as she sang. While the throwback track threw a curveball at the audience, “Dreams” almost makes sense sitting in between Mariah’s songs about flings, love, and loss. [Gabrielle Sanchez]

God bless those Canadians, they just can’t help being Canadian. In the case of The Weather Station (who put out a fantastic record in 2020), it’s not a stereotype, but a saving grace: The group’s music is so earnest and emotional—singer and songwriter Tamara Lindeman spent a good chunk of the set squatting in the front of the stage, as though gravity were pushing her down—and it can flirt awfully close to new-age easy listening. But Lindeman always walks it right up to that edge before pulling it back, zigging into melancholic, minor-key transitions or jangly Americana in order to avoid ever hitting anything pat or predictable. Those results, as to be expected, were tremendous. [Alex McLevy]

Thundercat was welcomed to the stage like a beloved relative, as the whoops and cheers that soundtracked the beginning of his set conveyed just how excited everyone was to hear the man deliver. And deliver he did, following up a few Zappa-esque musical freakouts with addictive earworms like “Dragonball Durag” and “Them Changes.” It was just the late-in-the-game rallying cry the festival’s flagging Sunday-afternoon energy needed. Thundercat’s singular talents can’t really be copied effectively; he’s a one-of-a-kind talent, and proved that again at Pitchfork this year. [Alex McLevy]