Pitchfork Music Festival 2011: Photo Round-up 2
By The Staff | 14 August 2011
:: All photos by Nate Smith
Day 2 :: Saturday
I played Pitchfork Fest and all I got was this flaming dick t-shirt.
“I saw Clipse do this once. Star Trak, right? No?”
“1 , 2, 3, Repeater!!!”
“Ah, fuck—I told you we should have rehearsed these synchronized moves.”
“Hold up, cameraman, you have a booger, lemme get that … I SAID HOLD UP YOU HAVE A BOOGER!!”
“Hey y’all this right here’s what my momma told me to do when someone gets stung by a jellyfish!”
“So you take your right hand and put it up in the air and, here’s the tricky part, while doing that lean with your body to the LEFT. There you go! Good job everybody, give yourselves a round of applause.”
Enraptured by the flaming dick.
He didn’t play it behind his back but, boy, did he hold it there.
The Passion of the Guitarist
“Aww yeah, these guys are gonna love my new BOSS Detonator pedal. Wait until they get a load of this shi…”
Gang Gang Dance
“Teehee! ‘Artist.’ Like those exist…”
Just waiting for his chance to pummel the living shit out of some minor chords.
Gang Gang then delivered the most avant-garde rendition of “Jesus Loves Me” ever heard.
And, in what has become Pitchfork Festival tradition, Zombie Lou Reed was released onto the stage only to be taken down with tasers.
Gang Gang also re-enacted the March of the Penguins. It was louder.
Then Bejar let the lanyard take over and he would have sworn it was the most beautiful scatting he’d ever heard.
Even the sax solo got thirsty.
Oh wait, am I the Tambourine Man?
“I’m only playing this trumpet ironically.”
“Now you sing, ghost of my great grandmother…”
That’s right, the Pitchfork arrows are just something that comes out of my mouth when I’m singing.
“We’re losing the crowd, quick, start playing the ‘One’ solo.”
Hi-pitched schoolgirl screech signals the ‘fest’s first officially documented broken nail catastrophe.
Wait, did I turn that burner off?
The thing on-stage resembling a 2001 space pod incited one audience member to point and yell, “GAGA! GAGA!”
So close to jamming, and yet so far.
..And then that same noxious cloud that turned My Morning Jacket into glam rockers descended onto Fleet Foxes. Slowly, the chords of a Marc Bolan song begin to form.
And that was when Fleet Foxes tried to do “Free Bird” as a mandolin solo.
SYNCHRONIZED PENSIVE STRUMMING!!!