Words & Photos: Magda Campagne
★★★★★
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The London edition of the Pitchfork Music Festival returned to the capital for the sixth year this year, and during six days sixteen different venues played host to the best emerging names in music.
On the 6th November, by the time I arrived in Hackney for the Dalston Takeover, the queue to collect wristbands was stretching all the way to the corner of Stoke Newington High Street, collecting the broad spectrum of Radio 6 music afficionados as it progressed.
Photo: Magda Campagne / Flawed Mangoes
Set across six Dalston venues, the Dalston Takeover offered expertly curated menu for discerning music listeners - you could stay put at Earth, where both the Hall and the Theatre provided a great line up of back to back acts - or you could hop around Dalston and visit cult grassroots venues Cafe OTO, The Victoria, The Shacklewell Arms and St Matthias Church as well. I picked option one and often wished I could bend time/space continuum to be in multiple places at once - alas Uber doesn’t offer teleportation just yet.
I really can’t complain though. EartH’s offering left me no time for a breather as I scaled the steps to catch every band as if they were shiny Pokemon. I started with Sundots, as recommended by the group of friends I started the day with. The New Haven, Connecticut five-piece, fresh from releasing a new album ‘On The Quay’ the Friday just gone, were a brand new discovery for me and they immediately fell into one of my favourite categories: bands with names that perfectly match their vibe. Suddenly I was basking in sounds that felt spacious and sunshine-y: warm, delicate, lived in and gorgeous. They played in the Theatre, and the lighting design complimented their set with glowing rays that gently eased me into the evening ahead.
I didn’t leave the Theatre, because following my favourite tradition, I once again let my friends decide my next move. (Music friends are the best friends and festivals give me an opportunity to play my favourite game of starting the day with one group, and letting the day take me wherever it may.) Flawed Mangoes, a project of Evan Lo from Boston, were another recommendation and I went in blind. As a life-long self-proclaimed post rock fangirl, I have been saying for a while that there isn’t much excitement in the current post rock scene, but as soon as Lo took to the stage accompanied by a band, they proved me wrong. Wearing head torches (once sported by the titans of the genre This Will Destroy You at Dunk!Festival approximately a decade ago), they delivered the ambient-infused post rock with mathy sprinkles.
For a complete change of the vibe, I popped to the Hall to catch the synth-punks Working Men’s Club - and because my music taste can be described as a very squiggly path that stretches from the quietest ambient to the harshest noise, I was instantly swept up in the rhythmic pulse. I would group Syd Minsky-Sargeant’s band together with Benefits, under my own umbrella I call ‘doom techno’ - think Joy Division, but more rave - and rage at the [gestures at everything].
“I can’t blame anyone for feeling terrified”, Minsky-Sargeant repeats into the microphone over the synth and immediately sets the tone for the set: immediate, arresting, buzzing with anxiety expertly channelled into the beat. And the crowd are eating it all up, bodies moshing at the front, clenched fists springing up in sign of approval. When apocalypse comes, I want to be raving in a derelict data centre and Working Men’s Club will be on my fantasy bill for that rave.
Back in the Theatre, Manchester’s Freak Slug headed by Xenya Genovese, whose set threw me back to the early 2000s indie sleaze blended with alt-rock, avant-pop and a pinch of grunge and new wave. The band are on point, and their energy is infectious. Despite being quite far apart on Theatre’s immense stage, they riff off one another showcasing their flawless chemistry. As a grunge kid, they certainly scratched my nostalgic itch.
However my thirst for noise couldn’t be quenched and I descended into the red-lit darkness of the Hall once again for my personal favourite of the night, Mandy, Indiana. Fresh from being crowned Radio 6’s band of the year, and lauded by Daniel Avery (who I spotted in the audience) for their politically-charged punk that feels inventive without losing any of the raw conviction, they waste no time proving why.
Valentine Caulfield doesn’t waste time to deliver the band’s political message - introducing ‘I’ll Ask Her’. This is the only song with lyrics that are not in French. Caulfield stood on the boxes and mentioned that she delivered a similar speech the day before in Belgium and was called “a dictator”, and usually she makes the speech around a new scandal: “last time I performed it in London it was the Gisele Pelicot case” - but sadly, “men never stop giving me new fucking material.”
While we were awaiting the verdict in Russell Brand’s sexual abuse case, those words landed to crowd’s rapturous applause. “And I stand before you as a queer woman of colour and I’m aware that all the rights I have today are because people fought for them and people died for them.” Caulfield said while dedicating a song written when the Gaza conflict escalated in July 2024. And soon the doom rave consumed me again, as Caulfield jumped into the crowd for ‘Magazine’ and stayed dancing across the crowd until the end of the set. It’s one of those performances that makes you immediately crave more - and I listened to ‘URGH’ on repeat on my way home.
Photo: Magda Campagne / Mandy, Indiana
But before then, DIIV filled the Theatre with their shoegaze - and I am not exaggerating when I say “filled”. The queue to get into the Theatre was swirling all the way down to EartH’s kitchen because the Theatre reached capacity. The New Yorkers clearly gained fierce fans while they were opening for Fontaines D.C. on the ‘Romance’ tour, and it’s easy to see why. Their sound is ethereal, their vocal harmonies are heavenly and their freshly released album ‘ZIRP!’ gave me solid hints of My Bloody Valentine. I was instantly took to a very happy place. The standing front rows of the Theatre were absolutely packed from the first note - but by the last the whole auditorium was on their feet.
The cult Aussie rockers Psychedelic Porn Crumpets finished the night off with a suitably riotous set that allowed everyone the release that only crashing into another human body can - and mosh pits ensued instantly. Aussies really know how to make great rock music that doesn’t take itself too seriously (Battlesnake come to mind) and from ‘Lava Lamp Pisco’ to ‘Juice a Jumbo Jet’ - an excellent time was had.