Joanna Newsom forgot to coordinate a ride to the fest and is forced to strap her beloved harp to a Divvy bike. Surprisingly, the hefty bike can support the weight of the instrument, and the powder blue frame even coordinates to her powder blue Rodarte gown. This legendary bike ride becomes a source of discussion among fans for the next five months, and they successfully petition Divvy to retire the bike she rented and install it as a memorial outsideLyon & Healy.
Björk tries to go incognito at the 'Fjork to take in the Pissed Jeans set among the gen-pop. But she's Björk, so yeah.
Before her Detroit stop on the Mrs. Carter tour, Beyoncé hangs with Solange backstage at Pitchfork in yet another effort in Queen B's lifelong project to upstage her. This one isn't successful, though, because Solange is better friends with Ed Droste and everyone at the festival knows it. Feeling ignored, Beyoncé posts 55 selfies on her Instagram and receives 7,894,564 affirming comments. She feels sorta better.
After humping a chairgetting down to Robin Thicke at the Taste, Mayor Rahmbo brings his now-famous chair dance to Lil B's set–until Lil B busts out with "Bitch, I'm Bill Clinton," and Emanuel storms off, leaving a cloud of "fucks" in his wake. "I thought Mumford and Sons were headlining this thing," he mutters, hopping into a black SUV.
Jim DeRogatis's obsessive hatred of R. Kelly melts away when the Pied Piper of R&B invites him onstage to groove to "Sex in the Kitchen." After the serenading, they hop in a stretch Navigator to hit up the after-the-after-party (it's the one in the hotel lobby). Our crystal ball indicates they had a Cristal ball.
We're recapping the Pitchfork Music Festival all weekend, but why wait to tell you what's going down? Given our psychic abilities—and the fact that we've attended the fest every year since it was a quaint li'l two-day affair dorkily named Intonation—we know what the Pitchfork experience will look like for festgoers. You'll spend approximately one-third of the weekend actually listening to bands, one-third of your time in the beer line (where you'd planned to meet up with that one friend at 5pm, or was it the record fair at 6pm? DID SHE MEAN THE OTHER BEER LINE? WHERE IS SHE?? OH LOOK, THERE'S YOUR WEIRD EX!), and one-third of the fest trying to upload pics of Björk and R. Kelly to Instagram but failing, because every other festgoer in Union Park is doing the same damn thing. Check out what else is going to happen in our slideshow.