Text by Tim Lowery
Photography by James Trevenen and Maureen Vana

During this pivotal campaign season, you'd think Chuck D chanting "Fuck George Bush!" over and over to thousands of fans would inspire a coup. You'd be wrong. While everyone immediately erupted at the instruction, the shouts at Public Enemy's opening night set -- where Chuck, Flav, et. al. performed 1988's It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back -- felt more like collective jubilation than political protest. In fact, if there was a message for this year's Pitchfork Music Festival, it was "have a blast," not "change the world."

Like the last two years, how you had that blast was up to you. Curated by the indie tastemakers at Pitchforkmedia.com, the lineup's strength was in contrasting seemingly disparate bands, so everyone from alt-rock veterans Dinosaur Jr. to noise-wielding newcomers Fuck Buttons got a piece of the spotlight. On day two, while the Hold Steady pounded out its guitar-heavy arena rock on one of the twin main stages, Bradford Cox of Atlas Sound put on a one-man show of dreamy guitar loops and angelic vocals on the side stage. The former made fest-goers raise their beers and sing along; the latter offered a sleepy, reverb-drenched alternative.

On day three, the main stages opened with Times New Viking, a lo-fi Ohio trio that blasted through an exhilarating mess of off-key yelps, fuzzy guitar/keyboard and barrage of cymbals; then came Brooklyn's eclectic Dirty Projectors, whose well-composed harmonies and intricate guitar syncopation made them come off like Juilliard professors in comparison. After that, Japanese doom-metal trio Boris incited a mosh pit. And that mishmash happened within an hour or so.

Thanks to glowing reviews on their site earlier this year, three groups at the fest became overnight success stories -- the Pitchfork Class of '08, if you will. L.A. noise rockers No Age sounded amazingly meaty for a mere duo. Surprisingly, the fans going nuts for their raucous wall of feedback appeared to be mostly teenagers, a contingent we assumed had no idea who No Age -- or most of the other bands -- were, which only further proves Pitchfork's growing influence. Seattle's Fleet Foxes also delivered, with a passionate rendition of their harmony-laden folk. But not all of Pitchfork's picks translated live: Vampire Weekend, who has achieved the most commercial success because of the site's support, ruined their otherwise catchy Afro-influenced pop with their gee-golly prep-school enthusiasm.

A killer set at Pitchfork can also make a band instantly successful. King Khan & the Shrines tore up the small stage: The soul/garage/psych outfit's antics bordered on shtick, with members jamming on instruments while crowd surfing, and Khan donning gold jewels, a cape and revealing underwear. "I'm bringing back finger banging in 2008!" he announced, and later tucked his penis in his legs and exposed his girly side. Those actions aren't political, per se, but they certainly have an air of protest to them. And even Chuck D has to dig that.