Pitchfork Music Festival Paris: twice as much fun

2 + 2 = 4. For this new edition, the Parisian festival Pitchfork had decided to abandon its little brother Avant-Garde by the side of the road. The result of the equation: two new spaces designed to host even more concerts during the three days of celebration. the Petite Halle, outside and the Studio, in the basement of the Grande Halle. These scenes being rather limited in capacity, the organization has placed a majority of unknown artists deserving to be discovered by the greatest number. Bet met. From the delirious punk of Squid to the fascinating Japanese quartet CHAI to the grace of Jessica Pratt and Aeris Roves, the Studio and the Petite Halle are constantly sold out. Moreover, it is quickly difficult to navigate within them. Enough to make us want to go back and forth in front of the headliners alternating between the Main Stage and the Nave. And there was plenty to do. After a Halloween party led by rappers Skepta, Hamza, Slowthai or Mura Masa and his tireless remix of Foals' "Night Swimmers", Johnny Jewel took over. A first time alongside Desire, for a mix of synth-pop and italo-disco quirky and devilishly entertaining. Then a second time, more expected, with Chromatics. An hour of show (reminder included) calibrated almost to the "Tick Tock" close, with songs shortened in festival format, to deliver a summary of his discography. After more than six years of absence, this live was awaited at the turn by the fans. And he didn't disappoint. Quite the opposite. The visual effects, the soaring voice of Ruth Radelet and the effects of Johnny Jewel… Everything transported us in time and space, in the Red Room of Twin Peaks, until the final cover of Kate Bush's "Running Up That Hill". A moment frozen in time, between the two queens of the Friday evening: the young Nilüfer Yanya, already so full of talent for her age and the majestic Weyes Blood, who came to perform her new album in religious silence. Like a final bouquet, Saturday's programming was clearly designed to make festival-goers dance, who complied without constraint. The surprises fused: Christine and the Queens saved the unbearable concert of Charli XCX by interpreting Gone at her side, Agar Agar showed us his side Mr. Hyde in a frenzied finale, Aurora was hilarious as usual (My favourite color is brown, I also like green, to fill technical problems of a few minutes) before a live SebastiAn that put everyone from agreement. And for those who do not recognize themselves in everyone, the Frenchman has balanced a final remix of Rage Against The Machine simply devastating. And we've never seen the Pitchfork audience take so much foothold. Like what. We will regret just one thing at Pitchfork: the concert times far too short. An hour, or even 45 minutes, of passage for a headliner will have enraged more than one in our wandering ears. Fortunately, the party continued at the Trabendo until dawn. Featured photo credit: Maria Louceiro