We went to Pitchfork. My husband, my cousin, my friend Cameron, and I. All three days. And it was glorious. Pitchfork, in my experience, has always been really well run. Quality artists, scheduled in such a way that the headliner gets due credit and there’s a lovely relaxed feel to the afternoon. Lounging on a picnic blanket to Real Estate and Slowdive was exactly what I needed on Sunday afternoon. After scream-singing the whole Neutral Milk Hotel set the night before, I needed something easy. And Pitchfork delivered.

I love music festivals. You could argue that they aren’t the best way to see bands. Sets are shorter. Production can be minimal. It seems like way more can go wrong. The crowds are huge. But there’s also something magical about live music in a festival atmosphere. It feels like the whole world is there and excited. There’s that particular way that people dress for festivals. There’s the fantastic people watching  (especially while waiting in line to use the port-a-potties). There’s that satisfaction that comes from having the perfect strategy to be in the right place at the right time for the right band: in the middle of it all, up front and center.

The highlight of the weekend was definitely seeing Neutral Milk Hotel. My husband and I saw them earlier this year in Indianapolis. That was a good show, but this was completely different. The crowd was packed. Everyone knew all the words. And when they played new songs, there was hushed and awed silence. The clarity of every single word in “Little Birds” was astonishing. There was more than one occasion during the show that I cried. And when they played “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea” (our first dance song), I had the odd realization that it would have been cheaper to buy each of our wedding guests tickets to Pitchfork than it was to have them at our wedding. It was one of the best shows I’ve ever been to, not least of all because Jeff Mangum himself seem to be quite affected by the fervor of the audience.