Vampire Weekend, Gaga, and pouring rain: The A.V. Club goes to Pitchfork Music Festival 

The Pitchfork Music Festival found almost instant success upon launching in 2005, quickly becoming a player in the summertime festival scene. Pitchfork the website has earned a certain level of trust with concertgoers who are willing to take chances on three-day passes even without huge marquee names. This year proved that more than ever, with no one or two big acts defining the fest, but plenty to see and hear on the undercard. (Due respect to Vampire Weekend and Feist, neither is exactly peaking at the moment.) And outside the music (and in spite of some rough weather on Friday and Saturday), Pitchfork remains one of the most relaxed, livable festivals around—crowded but not painfully so, as well organized as something this big can be, and generally packed with music fans looking to enjoy it outdoors. (Also: Lady Gaga showed up.) The A.V. Club endured the heat and moisture this year, and managed to sort out the best and worst of the fest, from tattoos to EDM.

Biggest Celebrity Cameo That Wasn’t: Barely 10 minutes into Kendrick Lamar’s set—which should have been a star-making triumph, given the current ubiquity of “The Recipe”—the crowd suddenly doubled in size and a palpable anticipation filled the air. They weren’t drawn in by Lamar’s dexterous (if extra raspy) delivery, or jostling in hopes of hearing “P & P (Pussy And Patron).” They were there for Lady Gaga, who’d swept in with a phalanx of security to make a surprise backstage appearance, spurring flurries of text and Twitter rumors that she was going to “do a set with” Lamar—even though that makes zero sense. All Gaga did was dance, wave her hands in the air, and generally groove to Lamar’s laidback rhymes—more so than her restless fans, who craned to stare, screamed “Gaga!” over Lamar’s between-song patter (prompting several acknowledging waves), and generally asked when we were gonna get to the fireworks factory already. When the set ended and it became clear that Gaga was just there to have fun, many people felt cheated out of something they hadn’t even known was a possibility just an hour before, with one pissed-off girl next to me exclaiming, “That’s it? Are you fucking serious?” Way to show up and just enjoy yourself, Lady Gaga! [SO]

Most Raucous Festival-Opening Set: While Lower Dens opened the larger Red Stage Friday with a pleasant if staid set, hometown band Outer Minds christened the small Blue Stage with raucous, ’60s-indebted psychedelic pop. Often the best bands at a festival are the ones with the most to prove (and/or nothing to lose), and Outer Minds delivered. All festivals should start with such a burst of energy. And a tambourine player. [KR]

Most Underwhelming Set: Similar to EMA’s opening set on the entrance-adjacent Red Stage last year, Lower Dens suffered from a dreary, low-key performance in an unfit time slot. The band’s slow-burn washes of ambiance and Jana Hunter’s creeping warble reward patience on record, but as one of two opening bands on the day of Pitchfork’s first-ever rain delay, interest seemed to wane into anxiety a little too quickly. It’s not the fault of Lower Dens, which more or less delivered on its excellent album Nootropics, but it’s sort of the nature of festivals, which can make bands that don’t exactly vie for attention seem a bit of a bummer. [SM]

Biggest Posse: As his Friday set reminded, A$AP Rocky is just the most visible member of the A$AP Mob, a crew that took the stage in shifts until it was a dozen or so strong. All that collective energy boosted early songs like “Pretty Flacko,” but the middle sagged as various members wandered off to regroup or just get out of the pissing rain. As the spacey “Wassup” dissipated, Rocky himself paused indulgently to make the crowd watch him smoke a blunt, and eventually the restlessness combined with the weather sparked a fight near the front. (“Keep the peace in the rain,” Rocky urged repeatedly between puffs, until it was finally broken up.) Fortunately the whole Mob returned fully reenergized to help him close out with “Peso,” proving—no matter what Rocky’s breakout stardom suggests—their real strength is in numbers. By the way, my nominee for Mob MVP: the little guy who looks like a hybrid between B-Real and Har Mar Superstar, and whose only role is to hop around while constantly flipping off the crowd. Where do I apply for that job? [SO]

Biggest Distraction: The pulsating, snowy instrumentals of Clams Casino provided an entrancing sunset-hour comedown on Friday—or for the many, possibly molly-induced youngsters at the Blue Stage, a slow-motion rave. But the spell was broken somewhat by the arrival of peacocking rapper Danny Brown, who ostensibly showed up to watch the set, but instead caused a mini-riot near the front by walking along the fence of the stage, doling out pictures and high-fives to the dozens who rushed to try clambering over. Kind of a dick move, Danny Brown. [SO]

Best Use Of A Reel-To-Reel: After opening gospel-style with an a cappella ballad, Willis Earl Beal clicked on his trusty backing band, a reel to reel machine, and charged dramatically through a set of gravelly soul tracks. Beal’s performance, complete with fingerless gloves, a cape, and plenty of gyrating, was so compelling and driving that it made audiences forget that they were just watching one guy on stage singing along to a tape, and that’s a big deal. [ME]

Best/Worst Scheduling: The 6-7 p.m. block of Friday felt like the moment Pitchfork really kicked into gear, with concurrent sets from Big K.R.I.T. and Japandroids serving up two very different yet complementary styles of party-starting. Unfortunately, Japandroids were relegated to the smaller, cramped Blue Stage while Big K.R.I.T. held court on the Green Stage, leading to disproportionately overwhelming/underwhelming crowds, respectively. Big K.R.I.T. turned in an awesome set, one of the best of the weekend, but his buzzing, “live from the underground” mixtape mentality probably would have played even better within the Blue Stage enclave, whereas the packed-in crowd at Japandroids probably would have relished the opportunity to spread out and go bonkers to the duo’s celebration rock. [GK]

Worst/Worst Scheduling: For whatever reason, tourmates and best buds Ty Segall and Thee Oh Sees played opposite each other, making fans choose between two similar, equally compelling acts. Both bands put on excellent sets, with Thee Oh Sees in particular charging through its catalog with ferocity and charm, but it was a little sad to see them separated, though kind of adorable to see them shout toward each other from their respective stages. [ME]

Most Otherworldly Vocals: The last time Dirty Projectors played a Chicago festival was at Lollapalooza in 2010, under some sweltering midday sun. Not exactly the ideal setting for their particular blend of experimental rock. Playing as the sun was setting after a the torrential thunderstorm on Friday suited them much better, as David Longstreth and company delivered a set that leaned heavily on songs from the just-released Swing Lo Magellan, but still hit the highlights from 2009’s breakthrough Bitte Orca. Calling Amber Coffman, Haley Dekle, and Olga Bell backing vocalists is a complete understatement of how important they are to the band, and at times their gorgeous and ethereal harmonies threatened to overshadow everything else on stage. “Stillness Is The Move” is still the showstopper, with Longstreth ceding vocal duties to the trio of preternaturally gifted female singers. [KM]

Most Failed Crowd Participation: Poor Feist did everything in her power to earn her Friday-night headlining slot—rocking new arrangements and cool harmonies courtesy of backup vocalists Mountain Man, plus some serious rock-star posturing during amped-up takes on “The Undiscovered First” and “Sea Lion Woman”—but whether it was due to fatigue, waterlogging from the earlier storms, or just apathy, the crowd beyond the first dozen or so rows just wasn’t having it. Feist tried more than once to have (as she put it) an “arena-rock moment” by encouraging crowd sing- and clap-alongs, but the response was minimal, barely audible from where I was standing just behind the soundboard. Luckily, Feist didn’t seem to notice and/or care, and put on a great, high-energy set—albeit one that didn’t include her most famous song and best chance for a real crowd sing-along, “1,2,3,4.” [GK]

Most Consistent (To Their Detriment): Purity Ring’s dreamy pop is pleasant enough, but on the Blue Stage, its songs blurred together. The lights triggered by the duo’s percussion—including a kick drum that lit up—were nice touches, but the songs receded into the background. It was mesmerizing in its way, but also underwhelming. By comparison, Feist was downright raucous. [JM]

Best Songs Related To Inclement Weather: While rain lingered Friday night, Brian King, guitarist for Canadian duo Japandroids, declared at the open of their set, “Who gives a fuck if it’s raining? It’s Friday night. Let’s get wild.” The band has a pair of songs that fit the weather thematically, first with “Wet Hair” (“She had wet hair / say what you will / I don’t care / I couldn’t resist it”) and “Sovereignty,” whose lyrics King tweaked to close their truncated set: “It’s raining in Chicago / but I don’t give a fuck / ’cause I’m in love with you tonight.” With the Blue Stage running behind, Japandroids only had time for eight songs—nine if you count the quick segue into a shorter version of “Sovereignty”—most of them from this year’s phenomenal Celebration Rock. Sound was a bit of an issue—King’s vocals were drowning in reverb during “Fire’s Highway”—but Japandroids still brought it. [KR]

Best Songs Related To No-Longer-Inclement Weather: Moody garage-poppers Cults took to the Red Stage just as the Saturday-afternoon downpour was ending. The timing created a thematically appropriate atmosphere of bright sun and spots of dark clouds that augmented the aloof cheerfulness of songs like “Most Wanted” and especially the xylophone-laden “Go Outside,” which drove the sodden, steamy crowd to a communal sing-and-sway-along. [GK]

Artist Least Compatible With An Outdoor Festival: The description of Tim Hecker in the excellent Pitchfork Music Festival app had some red flags: “sound artist,” “structured ambient,” “foreboding, abstract pieces,” “sound-art installations.” And what better place for something this understated than the Blue Stage, which borders noisy Ashland Avenue (where the festival also had its ill-conceived comedy stage a few years back). Unsurprisingly, Hecker’s set didn’t rise above the din, and by the end, passersby would be forgiven for not realizing someone was performing onstage. [KR]

Most Welcome Samples: Steven Ellison, a.k.a. Flying Lotus, knows how to win over a crowd. He kicked off his Saturday-afternoon set with a rousing, cinematic score that built slowly but surely to a heady beat that got the hot, sweaty audience bobbing. But once he started expertly blending in snippets of tracks from Odd Future, Drake, and Erykah Badu, the crowd really exploded, freaking out to the familiar-yet-different samples that Flying Lotus goosed with janky beats and unexpected drops, augmented by superfluous yet fun contributions from hype man MC Rage (and some sound bleed from Wild Flag’s soundcheck over on the Red Stage). The audience exploded and crowd-surfers surfaced at the first hint of “Niggas In Paris,” fists pumped to the ominous beat of “Simon Says,” and asses wiggled to an un-altered airing of “Intergalactic” (a tribute to the late MCA), but it was in the way Flying Lotus sequenced and manipulated those crowd-pleasing elements into a seamless, energetic mix that really impressed in a way that afternoon DJ festival sets rarely do. [GK]

Most Appropriate Cover Song: Wild Flag has slipped “See No Evil” by seminal post-punk band Television—to whom Wild Flag has been compared—into its live sets for much of its short existence. Here it opened its Pitchfork set with the song, and when a new song followed “See No Evil,” it seemed like a statement of intent for Wild Flag: Honor the past, then preview the future. Unsurprisingly, it took the crowd a bit to warm up, even once Wild Flag dipped into last year’s excellent self-titled album for “Electric Band.” But when the group chose album standout “Future Crimes” for its fourth song, the crowd was officially on the hook. That carried over into “Glass Tambourine,” whose final minute kicked up the intensity to a more expected level. The band closed with another of its great songs, “Romance.” [KR]

Boldest Guitar Choice: Pitchfork attendees didn’t need to be gearheads to notice something odd about Bernard Gann of Liturgy. His Steinberger GM-4T guitar had no headstock—the wooden protrusion at the end of the neck with the tuning pegs. It’s an appropriate guitar for a guy who plays in a “transcendental black metal” band: no headstock, graphite neck (instead of wood), an advanced tuning system, and, of course, it’s black. Only the most metal of dudes can pull it off—like Gann. [KR]

Unexpectedly Funniest Banter: Given the dark, often gloomy material of Habits & Contradictions, you’d probably never guess that Schoolboy Q is such a funny guy. But he worked the crowd like a seasoned comic on Saturday, asking aloud where “all my white niggas at” (“Rappers don’t show enough respect to white people… Shit, they’re the people at my shows”), offering up his spin on the standard “East Side/West Side” of Chicago crowd polling (“Let’s be real—who’s from the bad part of Chicago?”), and best of all, firing back on a particularly pushy fan who kept yelling out for an obvious album standout. “Bitch, you know I’m gonna play ‘Hands On The Wheel.’ Settle down,” he said, adding mockingly, “Hey 50 Cent, play ‘In Da Club.’ Hey Wiz Khalifa, play ‘Black And Yellow.’” [SO]

Most Style Over Substance: Give Sleigh Bells this: They certainly look like they’re having a hell of a time, with frontwoman Alexis Krauss playing punk-metal pageant girl in front of guitarist Derek Edward Miller (who was joined by a second guitarist this time out). A studded-shortsed ball of energy, Krauss was a sight to behold as she pulled out all the anticipated rocker-chick moves; but Sleigh Bells’ sonic output felt a little anemic—especially given the ostentatious, suspiciously quiet Marshall stacks that flanked them onstage. Crowd-pleasing tracks like “Rill Rill” and “Infinity Guitars” worked the mostly teenaged mass into an obligatory-seeming frenzy, but it rarely sustained itself for more than a song, at least outside the immediate blast-zone right in front of the stage. Standing only about 20 feet from the stage, I watched a group of neon-bedecked teens in front of me quickly lose interest in rocking out in favor of smearing body paint on one another, which seemed apt given the hollow spectacle happening in front of us. [GK]

Best Band That Should’ve Played After Dark: Something felt a little off about Sleigh Bells performing while sunlight blinded Alexis Krauss, but it felt wrong for Hot Chip to play before the sun went down and a proper dance party could break out. The British electronic band specializes in propulsive, hooky jams—pretty much the complete opposite of Godspeed You! Black Emperor, who would close the night out on the neighboring Green Stage—the kind that would have felt especially ecstatic at night. (Remember LCD Soundsystem’s amazing headlining gig the second night of the fest in 2010?) Regardless, the crowd ate Hot Chip up, especially when it played “Over And Over” about halfway through its set. Then no one cared that it was still light out. [KR]

Longest Wait For Arguably The Smallest Payoff: The rain pushed everyone off their timetable, but even that couldn’t account for the interminable soundcheck for Chromatics, which had the band finally starting more than 30 minutes after they were scheduled. And while the band seamlessly replicated its albums’ languid, tightly controlled synth-pop—the same dreamy, neon-pink noir that inspired Drive—after such a long delay, the sustained medium energy felt anticlimactic, especially in the late-afternoon bog. That said, songs like “Kill For Love” and the group’s cover of Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill” were as impeccably groomed as the chests of Nat Walker and Johnny Jewel, whose hilariously obvious care to expose them just so (“Two buttons? Better make it three.”) often threatened to be the most interesting thing about the set. [SO]

Most Effective Buzzkill: No one would describe Godspeed You! Black Emperor as “compromising,” and people who were unfamiliar with the Canadian post-rock band learned that firsthand Saturday night. The group opened its set with a drone that went on for at least 15 minutes, and it was upward of 20 minutes—maybe more—before anything resembling a beat appeared. Oh, and no vocals. It was the most effective antidote to the euphoria of Hot Chip’s set, a comedown that was only leavened by the intervening minutes between the end of Hot Chip and the earliest droning of Godspeed. Even the people who ran the giant screen for the fest didn’t realize Godspeed had started playing, as ads for liquor, cars, and the festival itself continued on a loop for a good 15 minutes. Godspeed, of course, was building to something, but that required the kind of patience that’s exceedingly rare among a festival audience—whose younger members had mostly high-tailed it to the Blue Stage for Grimes. [KR]

Worst Recovery: The Blue Stage was running 10 to 15 minutes behind for most of Saturday, which meant the crowd waiting for Grimes was more than a little antsy during the rushed soundcheck leading up to the impish ball of whimsy’s set. It was an opportunity for her to come out swinging and feed on the heightened mood, but when Claire Boucher did finally appear onstage around sunset, it was unceremonious and low-energy, as she thanked the crowd for waiting, introduced Mike Tucker from Blood Diamonds, and then slouched into her set. It was a sleepy entrance that failed to immediately re-ignite an audience that had been left to simmer for so long—even once Boucher brought out a couple of oddly clad, lazily choreographed backup dancers and deployed a few smoke bombs—and judging by the mass exodus from the packed Blue Stage following the first few songs, much of the audience, myself included, never felt that spark. (Though if those who bailed were anticipating something more welcoming in Godspeed You! Black Emperor’s drone-y set, they were sorely mistaken.) [GK]

Most Resilient Performance: Faced with the worst downpour of Saturday, it seemed unlikely Atlas Sound’s Bradford Cox would be able to hold onto the audience during his one-man set, which drew on classical-inspired folk more so than his record’s noise-rock experiments. The crowd mostly stuck around though, enrapt by Cox’s humorous banter as much as his music, which grew more dynamic as the storm worsened. With dry sarcasm, he offered hydration advice to a weary crowd member (with thanks to the Boy Scouts, who kicked him out “for being a queer”) and threatened a three-hour set of Romanian atonal music after support for a cover of “No Rain.” The rain eventually won out, as electronics trouble forced Cox to end his set early, but credit him for engaging the crowd and picking up the energy when it was absolutely necessary. [SM]

Best Continuation Of A Theme: As if Godspeed You! Black Emperor’s spirit still haunted the Green Stage when the festival re-opened on Sunday, Dirty Beaches—a.k.a. Alex Zhang Hungtai—began his 1 p.m. set with a long, slow drone. Minutes passed before any percussion joined, kicking off Pitchfork’s final day on a thoroughly somnambulant note. The whole performance felt like a film score—apropos, as Hungtai cites cinema as one of his big influences—for people in the audience checking their phones. Hungtai, who sat at a keyboard and was joined by a guitarist on stage, introduced vocals much later in the set, which thankfully gave the songs more texture. More surprising were the tinges of Nine Inch Nails that lurked in some of the beats and synths in a couple of Dirty Beaches songs, a welcome ominousness that gave the whole set more personality. That said, it was an odd way to kick off the festival’s final day. [KR]

Best Continuation Of A Theme, Blue Stage Edition: Just as Chicago bands Outer Minds and The Atlas Moth did on Friday and Saturday, respectively, their fellow hometown band A Lull opened the Blue Stage on Sunday with the kind of energy befitting the last day of a music festival. Its Yeasayer-esque psych-rock couldn’t have sounded more different from Dirty Beaches’ sleepy atmospherics over on the Green Stage, beginning a hot streak for the Blue Stage that continued the rest of the day, through Milk Music, Thee Oh Sees, The Men, and most conspicuously, Kendrick Lamar. [KR]

Best Meat And Potatoes: With all the droning, the laptops, the backing tracks, and other preciousness, it was refreshing to get a heaping of straightforward, meat-and-potatoes rock with Milk Music. If fans didn’t know the band hails from Olympia, Washington, the sounds coming out of the PA all but said “PACIFIC NORTHWEST IN THE ’90S.” No frills, just howling rock that recalled bands like Mudhoney and Dinosaur Jr. It was a nice palate cleanser for a stage that had hosted Grimes the day before. [KR]

Most Contempt For The Audience: Hardcore music isn’t known for affable frontmen, and Danish teens Iceage are no exception. As vocalist Elias Rønnenfelt slinked onstage, he flung a lit cigarette into the crowd. In the moments he wasn’t writhing and barking over the band’s tuneful clamor, he couldn’t have looked more bored, slunk-over and shrugging around the stage. He dedicated the song “You’re Nothing” to the crowd, and told everyone to go home during one of its “technical difficulty” breaks. Belying his apathetic attitude though, Rønnenfelt fed energy into the moshpit whenever it lulled, and even bowed to the crowd at the end. Maybe he cares after all. [SM]

Friendliest Punks: Following Iceage’s scowling, dismissive set on the neighboring Green Stage, Ty Segall was all smiles on the Red Stage. He’d shout his lungs out in a song, then charmingly lead the crowd in a chant for one of his friends or wind the audience up for a cover of AC/DC’s “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap.” His set basically went smile/howl/smile, and Segall seemed to enjoy himself thoroughly, digging deep at one point for the Epsilons song “9 To 5.” (Bonus points for the introduction by Rian Murphy of Drag City. People may remember his long, funny, and hilariously audience-baiting introduction for Pavement at Pitchfork in 2010.) [KR]

Best Ode To Oral Sex: Though he might be a bit of a shithead to other performers (see above), Danny Brown really charms live. Since he was on the fest’s smallest stage, Brown’s beats were a little too quiet, but he overcame the sonic problems with aplomb, lackadaisically but intensely driving the crowd into a sexually charged musical frenzy with his ode to cunnilingus, “I Will,” complete with not-so-subtle miming. Hearing a bunch of sweaty, awkward dudes rapping along emphatically was a little off-putting, but the song is so good that it just makes everything else fade away. [ME]

Most Time-Warped Set: Pitchfork (the publication and the festival) tends to champion more forward-thinking acts, and this year’s concert had plenty edgy hip-hop and electronic music. So The Olivia Tremor Control, which made ’60s-washed music in the ’90s, seemed particularly unhip and out of place in this lineup. That didn’t stop the occasional song (like the breezy “Hideaway”) from floating above it all. [JM]

Best ’90s Throwback: Cleveland’s Cloud Nothings put out one of the best records of 2012, Attack On Memory. It’s a thrill-a-second rundown of excellent influences, from ’90s rock radio to more recent buzz-centric indie acts. Despite the pouring rain, Cloud Nothings delivered one of the fest’s most electrifying sets, channeling all its elders into one bitching chunk of blistering, non-stop excellence. [ME]

Most Backward-Focused Hot New Thing: Canadian duo Purity Ring is riding a wave of attention due in large part to Pitchfork, and the band’s upcoming record Shrines is overwhelmingly pleasant. Still, it’s hard to overlook how massively indebted this music is to both Björk and a dozen 4AD bands that have been lost to time. (Shrines is even being released by 4AD—will Purity Ring be the next St. Vincent or the next Pale Saints?) [KR]

Most Abused Drum Machine: Abraham Orellana, a.k.a. AraabMuzik, spent his kinetic Sunday evening performance absolutely pummeling his drum machine as he crafted the live, hyper-speed beats that composed the majority of his dubstep-heavy, mostly instrumental set. A cameo appearance by semi-notorious, Kanye West-endorsed 16-year-old Chicago rapper Chief Keef was ostensibly the show’s highlight, but Keef’s contributions were pretty lackluster, and paled in comparison to the fast, flying fingers of AraabMuzik behind the board. [GK]

Least Compelling Performer: Oneohtrix Point Never’s music isn’t exactly rip-roaring, but it’s interesting. As a performer, though, Daniel Lopatin is a downright snooze. Throughout his set, he remained seated behind some sound equipment, never speaking or getting the least big animated. At one point he waved to the audience in thanks, but his actual stage presence was so minimal that he didn’t even really have to be there at all. [ME]

Most Weather-Appropriate, Sunday Edition: Comparisons to the weather are inevitable at festivals with such erratic climates, so we may as well embrace it. Sunday’s heat was a welcome relief after two days of barely tolerable conditions, and the laid-back vibes of Real Estate perfectly complemented the peak of the day. Bright and sunny with a slight, soothing breeze, the band’s guitar-pop embodies the basic idea of a perfect summer day. But, like spending too much time in the sun, Real Estate’s set suffered from overexposure: Each song contained the same core elements, and swayed along at a nearly identical pace, melting the crowd into a haze of pleasant sedation. [SM]

Best Country-Fried Rock: Though they had the unfortunate distinction of following Thee Oh Sees, The Men held their own, plunging headlong into their countrified material. Though at points it veered a little Eagles-y, especially compared to other festival material, the set was an ultimately solid blend of the new and the old, resulting in a calming yet invigorating chunk of songs. [ME]

Best Fog Machine: With its spacey new-age jams, Beach House was an apt choice for Sunday’s sunset slot. The Baltimore trio didn’t set the fest on fire or anything, but it was perfectly lovely, floating through a set featuring mostly tracks from the group’s latest, Bloom. More impressive than anything else, though, was the group’s super-sized fog machine, which engulfed the stage, field, and backstage area in a thick haze. If it works this well outside, we can only imagine what it’s like in a club. [ME]

Most Amiable Closer: Vampire Weekend hasn’t put out anything since 2010’s Contra, which was only its second record. Still, it has a vast following, as evidenced by the hordes of people swarming into the fest later on Sunday night. While the band’s tunes aren’t exactly the hippest jams for the indie elite, they’re fun all the same. Even tired, skeptical festivalgoers were bopping along with “Wolcott” and “Oxford Comma,” proving that good songs are good songs, especially in a democratizing setting like this one. [ME]

Worst Tattoo: As always, Pitchfork Music Festival boasts a wealth of ill-advised body modifications, but this year’s “oh no” award goes to the girl we saw with “Float On” inked in large, cursive script across her neck. Even Isaac Brock doesn’t like Modest Mouse enough to do that. [ME]

Most Blatant Attempt To Appear In A Write-up Like This One: “Hey, it may be a fetid, muggy swamp out here, but I’m still going to put on this full-body dog costume! Look at me, I’m the Dog Man! Please take a photo of me and put me in your Pitchfork write-ups!” Here you are, sir. Enjoy your validation. [SO]

Most Annoying And Wrong Thing That We Shouldn’t Have To Tell You Is Annoying And Wrong, And Yet We Apparently Do: Hey dude who brought the saxophone to a music festival: Don’t bring a saxophone to a music festival. Don’t sit in the middle of the crowd and play your saxophone. Nobody came to hear you play saxophone. Don’t. [SO]