“Sunday Candy”

“Sunday Candy”

Yesterday, I wrote that Sleater-Kinney’s Saturday night headlining set was the best Pitchfork Festival performance I’d ever seen in the eight years I’ve been to this thing. I’m not sure that’s the case anymore. Sleater-Kinney is the best rock band in the world, and I turned into a human hearts-for-eyes emoji when they were on. But for Sleater-Kinney, this was, more or less, another show in a string of them. For Chance The Rapper, it was a Life Event. More than once, Chance looked out across this crowd, the crowd that had assembled for him, and breathed deep, taking it all in. And this crowd was alive for him. Chance was learning how to rap in after-school programs in Chicago just a few years ago. His move from that to the headlining spot on the last day at the Pitchfork Music Festival was a quick one, but he hasn’t taken it for granted. Early on, he announced that they’d killed Pitchfork’s live streaming feed of the show “because we don’t want nobody that’s not here.” And for the people who were there, Chance put on a show. Chance sang. He danced. He rapped like an absolute motherfucker. He led a vast crowd in big, big shout-alongs. (A whole lot of that crowd was absolutely there for him and nobody else.) He told the crowd that this would be his last Chicago show for a while, that “I want to grow up.” And he ended it memorably, bringing out gospel rabble-rouser Kirk Franklin and a full gospel choir for a euphoric run through the great Surf single “Sunday Candy” before finally ending things with his Acid Rap we-can-probably-call-it-a-classic-now “Chain Smoker.” It was a beautiful end to a beautiful weekend.