This week, we’ve heard from music venues on how they’re coping with the lockdown, and from artists on the stages they can’t wait to play again, but now it’s your turn: We recently asked Pitchfork readers to tell us about their favorite live music memories. Many of you did— thanks!—and these were the results.
Check out more of Pitchfork’s celebration of the past, present, and future of live music here.
Frank Ocean at FYF Fest in Exposition Park (Los Angeles, CA) on July 22, 2017
As you know, Frank is elusive. He was scheduled to play FYF in 2015, and cancelled only a few days prior to the festival. When he was announced as a headliner again in 2017, my friends and I couldn’t believe it. We spent the months leading up to the festival, and even Friday and all day Saturday, speculating who would replace Frank when he inevitably dipped out again. When he actually walked out on stage [on Saturday night], I can’t tell you the sense of relief and excitement we all had. What I remember most though, is the live direction by Spike Jonze, particularly the Brad Pitt sequence. It was like watching a concert movie / documentary, but live, at the concert. Really hard to explain. Frank also didn’t perform on stage, but instead on a platform in the middle of the pit. It was like we were all in his room, witnessing him cycle through a repertoire of one perfect idea to the next. I still can’t believe it actually happened. –Mitchell Pumar
Florence + the Machine at Lollapalooza in Grant Park (Chicago, IL) on August 2, 2015
Florence and Co. were set to headline the final night of Lolla. We’d already been evacuated for weather earlier in the day, and more storms were clearly on the way. What was supposed to be a 90-minute set ended up being roughly 60, but nothing diminished Florence’s energy on stage. At a certain point, we looked at the sky and could see lightning rolling in from Lake Michigan. Unfazed, Florence dedicated “Cosmic Love” to the oncoming storm. When they were finally told the park needed to be evacuated, they sent us off with “Dog Days Are Over,” and Florence ripped off her blouse and ran into the crowd after the final verse. My best friend and I had just graduated high school and were a few weeks away from college, and between what we'd just witnessed on stage, the storm blowing in behind us, and the 80-something-year-old man taking hits off of kids in the crowd, we knew in that time that there were few things that could rival the best live music. – Andrew W.
Jonathan Richman at the Moonlight Music Cafe (Birmingham, AL) on October 4, 2005
If you've never seen a Jonathan Richman show, it’s magical. It’s just him, his guitar, and a drummer. There’s a childlike quality to Jonathan’s performances. At some point he invariably gets transported by his own music, sets down his guitar, and starts to dance. He might pull some percussion instruments out of a suitcase with a big “JR” spray-painted on it. The venue where this particular show took place was small. Very intimate. Maybe you could get a hundred people in there. One of those people was Will Ferrell. He was in Alabama shooting Talladega Nights. Nobody bothered him, but everybody knew he was there. About halfway through the show, Jonathan pulled a cowbell out of his suitcase. Every head turned slowly in Will Ferrell’s direction. It felt like the universe might implode or that reality might fold in on itself. Ferrell, for his part, kept his eyes glued on the man about four feet away who was gleefully banging away on his cowbell. I don’t think Jonathan Richman even knew who Will Ferrell was. –Travis Hawkins
Spiritualized at the Kings Theatre (Brooklyn, NY) on October 11, 2018
I took shrooms and saw Spiritualized at Kings Theatre. The ornately restored venue, with its hypnotically opulent ceiling, was the ideal venue to see Jason Pierce tear through classics from Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space. Spiritualized played their new album And Nothing Hurt in its entirety with help from Wordless Music Orchestra and the Brooklyn Interdenominational Choir. Between the gospel cover of “Oh, Happy Day” and the shrooms, Kings felt like a psychedelic church and I’m fairly certain I received a premonition from God. When I exited the theater, I was overcome with a sinking feeling that this could be the last concert I ever attend because some benevolent force was exiting the planet. This guttural fear stuck with me for over a year. After John Prine’s death from Covid in early 2020, I listened to “Sam Stone”—the lyrics “there’s a hole in daddy’s arm where all the money goes” are reinterpreted on the Spiritualized jam “Cop Shoot Cop”—and that’s when I finally understood what the shrooms and Spiritualized’s music were trying to tell me at Kings in late 2018. –Ira Lawrence
Amyl and the Sniffers at Bar le Ritz (Montreal, QB) and the Velvet Underground (Toronto, ON) on July 21 and 22, 2019
Picture this: A 200 km road trip at sunset, concrete nearly hot enough to stick to my Blundstones, a greasy bar at the dingy edge of Montreal. It was my first time seeing rowdy, Australian punk-rockers Amyl and the Sniffers, and as a small woman who stands up front taking photos, I was more than slightly nervous. The room was electric and beer-soaked long before singer Amy Taylor came on stage decked in a studded leather bikini, her thrashing energy living up to the titles of “Gacked on Anger” and “Monsoon Rock.” I was drenched through to my underwear with strangers’ sweat at the end of the set, something that could only happen in the B.C. (Before COVID) era. An impromptu party with the band landed me on the guest list of their sold-out Toronto show the following night, so naturally I pulled an all-nighter in a 24hr Tim Hortons to buy train tickets on 2% battery, my legs more bruised than an old banana. Sleep deprived and barely standing, I was still snapping photos up front the following night. Amy jumped in the crowd to join the all-girl mosh pit to “Got You,” and I've never felt such an exhilarating, empowering sense of community at a show, maybe not ever in my life. For myself and other women, live music gives us a space where we can bask in the songs that echo our voices like no other venue can. It’s a shame it can’t last forever, but the permanent bruises on my thighs are a good reminder. –Isabel Rose
Nirvana, the Breeders, and the Melvins at the BSU Pavilion (Boise, ID) on December 15, 1993
The Melvins helped Nirvana record Bleach. Kim Deal (and the Pixies) greatly inspired Nirvana as well. Of course, I was happy to see the Melvins, but particularly excited to see the Breeders and Nirvana. It was a full circle of awesomeness at the height of Nirvana’s unexpected mainstream success: a strange concept for us in the Pacific Northwest. Nirvana brought along bands that inspired them on this big tour, showing their gratitude. They played an incredible set that night with Pat Smear, surrounded by In Utero-inspired mannequins and other art pieces. It was beautiful. You can find videos from this era on YouTube. Then, Kurt incited a lovely, non-destructive riot of sorts, urging people from upper levels to make their way down to the venue floor. Folding chairs were safely moving through the crowd and out of the way to make room for more revelers. I didn’t see any security interference as I watched people jumping 15-20 feet to get down there. No one was hurt and everyone was happy. The whole floor was so much fun to watch that I stayed where I was. At that time, tours like this were fairly rare in Boise. This joyful release was an unforgettable experience that Nirvana was genuinely happy to bring. Kurt was so funny, caring and gracious with the crowd. Four months later, he was gone. I've never gotten over it. I’m a radio DJ and played “On a Plain"” two nights ago, thinking of this story. It’s the most memorable show I’ve ever seen. I’m so glad my brother, Erik, was there to see it with me. –Heather Petersen
The Olivia Tremor Control at the Bowery Ballroom (New York, NY) on August 2, 2005
To my friends and I, the Elephant 6 crew were our musical heroes. Mythic status. Never in a million years did we think we’d ever get to see the Olivia Tremor Control live, so even on the day of the show it didn’t feel quite real.
I remember it all well: Piling into the car and driving into the city from Jersey. Sheepishly saying hi to folks like John Fernandes and Jeremy Barnes, who may as well have been Coltrane or Brian Wilson to us. The Bowery Ballroom itself, which seemed cavernous and decrepit and dark and magical. OTC’s tape machine breaking during the first song, but the band shrugging it off and joyously launching into “California Demise 3” instead of “A Peculiar Noise Called ‘Train Director.’” Feeling like the entire crowd was levitating from sheer positivity.
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, during the second verse of “I Have Been Floated,” a tall, bearded, Christ-like figure appeared. A wave of recognition rolled over the crowd, as people begin gasping, and then cheering. Jeff Mangum had entered the building. My friend Shelly exclaimed, "He came back from the circus!" The song ended and Mangum left just as abruptly as he’d arrived. The rest of the set was non-stop alternate-history psychedelic gold, every song an OTC diehard would want to hear: “Holiday Surprise 1,2,3”? You betcha! “Define a Transparent Dream”? They defined it, baby! “Green Typewriters”? All ten movements, ya dingus! And then there was the encore, for which the venerated Mr. Mangum returned to sing backup on “Shaving Spiders” and became so childishly giddy that he ended up excitedly tackling a few of his fellow musicians to the floor.
As we drove back to the Jersey suburbs that night, through the windy chemical glow of late summer, buzzing over the magic we had just witnessed, Will Cullen Hart’s primal howl from “The Opera House” rang like a bell through my head: “Nothing can be done without the willingness...TO SUCCEED!!!!!!!” –Liam Carroll
Prince at Oracle Arena (Oakland, CA) on March 4, 2016
I went to this show on a last-minute whim. I hopped on the BART train with my friend Reuben on a Friday night after a long work week. By the end of the first song, I knew it was destiny that we decided to make the trek to Oakland. The Purple One played for close to three hours that night, just him and his baby grand piano. After two encores, the house lights came up and the majority of the arena filtered out—but the remaining fans continued to cheer, and after about 15 minutes, and with the lights still on, His Royal Badness emerged yet again for a third encore! Prince would be dead just over a month after this show, and I couldn’t process that after seeing such a display of showmanship that night. I will hold on to that show for the rest of my life. –Stephen Sutherland
Animal Collective at the Bonnaroo Music Festival (Manchester, TN) on June 12, 2009
Animal Collective were supposed to come on around 3 p.m., and it was already hot as hell, but I lingered around the stage waiting for the band that played before them to finish. As the crowd cleared out, I made my way close to front center stage and just waited. They opened with “Lion in a Coma” and never stopped playing through the whole set—each song somehow grew into the next, from “Lion” to “My Girls” to “Summertime Clothes” to “Guys Eyes.” Then they played “Slippi” and “Comfy in Nautica” (from Panda Bear’s brilliant solo album). Toward the end of the set, they played the fan favorite “Fireworks” and ended it all with “Brother Sport.” After it was over, I didn’t really know what to do, or think, so I just wandered around for a while to gather all the feelings that felt so overwhelming. It was a beautiful experience. –Stephen Reno
Low at Neumos (Seattle, WA) on March 20, 2019
By the time I saw Low in 2019, Double Negative had become one of my favorite albums ever. It's hard to think of anything that felt more resonant to me in late 2018‚ several months out of college, feeling depressed and totally unprepared for adulthood, worn down by the everyday cruelties of the Trump administration. I would listen to that album nearly every day, and I would hear it in my head even when it wasn't playing.
Hearing it live felt cathartic in a way that I couldn't have imagined. "Dancing and Blood" and “Tempest” still sounded like they could induce a panic attack, but the ambient gloom of “Poor Sucker” and “Fly” was all the more affecting when set alongside beautiful, hymn-like tunes such as “Holy Ghost” and “Nothing but Heart.” And Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker were gracious and funny despite the heaviness of the songs: In response to an audience member's question about his favorite Beatle, Sparhawk drily replied, “My favorite dinosaur is the Tyrannosaurus rex, because I’m honest with myself.” Parker sniped that her husband's winter sweater had “only been washed once” as he shed the heavy garment. When the concert was over, Sparhawk encouraged us to “keep on thanking other people” before leaving the stage with a sincere “peace be with you.” –Jacob Nierenberg
Robyn at the Palace Theatre (St. Paul, MN) on March 5, 2019
Robyn’s Honey was the soundtrack to a breakup I experienced in 2018. It helped me to process the grief of the breakup with my boyfriend while also evoking a space of queer ecstasy among friends that I struggled to find as frequently in Minneapolis. When she performed at the Palace Theatre, Robyn brought out a dancer who held the spotlight on many occasions. Sometimes Robyn would stand to the side, watch this person, and smile. It reminded of friendship. And I thought about how “Missing U” is not about an ex. It’s about mourning the loss of a friend. And I looked out to the audience and saw an old, queer friend of mine from high school. We reconnected and saw 100 gecs together a year later. –Sidottu Merelle
Radiohead at the Smoothie King Center (New Orleans, LA) on April 3, 2017
It was my third time seeing Radiohead, and while it's always magical, this show was particularly special. Firstly, it happened in the town I lived in, so I didn't have to travel. What a dream. More importantly, they closed the main set with “Karma Police.” The song closes with the lyric “For a minute there, I lost myself.” Each band member left the stage until it was only Thom repeating this line. Then, suddenly the entire crowd was singing along and it took on a beautiful new meaning: For a minute there, were able to lose ourselves to music, love, and togetherness. –George Silvertooth
Boredoms at All Tomorrow’s Parties New York at Kutsher’s Hotel (Monticello, NY) on September 13, 2009
Boredoms played an afternoon show at ATP 2009. It was billed as Boadrum 9, so that meant they were gonna do something special. They had 8 drum kits set up, and as they started the set, my friends and I noticed that one of their core drummers was missing. They started playing a tribal punk beat and ratcheted up the intensity. Maybe ten minutes into the set, I vaguely heard drums coming from the back of the venue. The ninth drummer was carried into the venue on a giant rickshaw as he played a crazy solo. People carried him directly over my head and set him down on stage. The band was a torrent of energy and fire for that set. Yamatsuka Eye played an instrument made of seven guitars welded together. He would hit the strings with different staffs to make guitar noises. They closed with “Acid Police,” a Boredoms classic, and kept playing as the venue hauled off their gear piece by piece until everyone was left banging on a single floor tom. –Bryan Mack
Fucked Up at Bowery Ballroom (New York, NY) on June 6, 2014
It was only my second time seeing Fucked Up. I just remember the pit being such a positive, happy place. No one was there to hurt anybody, it was just a mini-community that formed for that hour or so. We were all just in such a good mood. Damian joined the crowd, as he often does, and we were all singing to “Paper the House.” At the end of the set, they played “The Other Shoe.” I remember jumping on stage, sharing the mic to scream “dying on the inside” with a smile on my face. Just such a fun, powerful night. –Eric Fergen
LCD Soundsystem at the Panorama Festival on Randall’s Island (New York, NY) on July 24, 2016
I’d always liked LCD Soundsystem, but really fell in love with them during the period when the band was supposedly “retired.” I never thought I’d get the chance to see them live. When they announced they were reuniting, and playing a festival practically in my backyard, I knew I had to be there. Unfortunately, I was also supposed to travel for my job that weekend, so I lied about having a family commitment that would require me to be back home a day early and took a redeye from Southern California back to New York the night before the show.
It was so worth it. The band’s set was just wall-to-wall favorite tunes, culminating in a breathless, pounding version of one of my all-time favorite songs, “All My Friends.” I was there with a group of my favorite people in the world, and we danced like maniacs.Someone managed to sneak in a shitload of glow sticks and pass them around, and everybody was....well, let's say in an “elevated state of mind.” It was just an absolute smash of a show, and one I had never thought I’d have the chance to experience. –Adam Swiderski
Pharmakon at the High Water Mark (Portland, OR) on July 14, 2017
Due to traffic, Margaret arrived late and couldn't begin her set until past midnight. The crowd was restless and the energy was intense. At the first explosive noise of her performance, it was such a release of tension—her frustration from arriving late, and all of us in the room having waited. The feeling was so intense that a person in front of me pulled out a knife and began cutting off their long ponytail. Everyone around watched this person, so caught up in the moment, cut their own hair in the middle of a show. There was this unexplainable vibe that this made total sense. When they finished, they threw their ponytail onto the stage. Margaret was too caught up in her performance to notice, but for me (and I'm sure a few others who saw this happen), it was the most punk rock shit I’ve ever seen. –Cody Dean
Solange at John Paul Jones Arena (Charlottesville, VA) on August 24, 2013
Having grown up watching and listening to Black superstars like Beyoncé and Janet, my concept of a concert was big crowds, sold-out seats, and elaborate set designs. And while the John Paul Jones Arena can seat around 14,000, the crowd for Solange was entirely on the floor, pooling around her and a small band like we were at a church function. The University of Virginia, which owns the arena, is definitely not the poster child for diversity, but Black and brown students showed up to support Bey’s lil sis. Solange had released True just a year before, and the setlist was mainly the EP’s strange yet perfect melding of R&B and alternative, with the surprise inclusion of disco bop “T.O.N.Y.” The concert was intimate and the crowd was attentive; instead of hooting and hollering throughout, we let Solange’s whistle notes and love lyrics bring us into the life of a Black woman clearing her own path for superstardom. –Jordan Best
Thundercat at Elysée Montmartre (Paris) on November 21, 2017
The set went so long that Thundercat abruptly said that he had to end the show because of local noise ordinances, and that there would unfortunately be no encore. The band exited the stage, and the venue turned the lights on to indicate we should leave—yet out of a full house of almost 1,400 people, nobody moved. We stayed where we were, and clapped and yelled and stomped on the hardwood floors until they shook. I have no idea how long this went on—ten minutes? Fifteen?—but at last the venue capitulated, and the band returned for an encore, and the crowd went wild! The amount of energy in that room is something I’ve experienced only rarely. Bonus highlight: band member Miguel Atwood-Ferguson absolutely SHREDDING on the electric violin. –Kiril Bolotnikov
R.E.M. and Radiohead at Meadows Music Theater (Hartford, CT) on October 1, 1995
Radiohead opened the show. I had been totally into The Bends, and they didn’t disappoint. But then, finally, I was able to see the most important band in my life at that moment. The lights went down and the pulsating chords of “I Took Your Name” reverberated through the Meadows. R.E.M. ripped through cuts from Monster and the soon-to-be released New Adventures in Hi-Fi. They dipped back in their catalog, all the way to “Begin the Begin” from Life’s Rich Pageant. For the final song of the night, they dropped “It’s the End of the World...” I completely lost my shit. I remember running down the aisles in shear elation high-fiving strangers, jumping up and down, and screaming the chorus at the top of my lungs. It was incredible. It was exhilarating. It was unmitigated joy. It was truly one of the most unforgettable moments of my life. –Craig Huntington
Deafheaven at the Roxy (Los Angeles, CA) in November 2015
At one point, I moved towards the stage, and someone started to lift me, and people just threw me onstage during the latter part of “Sunbather.” George Clarke gave me the mic, and I just started to belt out the lyrics, screaming in front of 500 people, before being pushed off by him. I went crowd-surfing, and then got thrown back on stage, where it all was repeated. Eventually I got down to the floor with adrenaline pumping like crazy. –Christoffer Cavalli-Björkman
MF DOOM at the Forum (London) on November 16, 2013
It was the only time I’d see him. The openers, BADBADNOTGOOD and Bishop Nehru, were unreal. I remember wondering if we’d get an imposter, even though it seemed like he didn’t do that anymore. And then he came out in this ruby red mask, looking every bit the legend he was. In fact, Pitchfork used a photo of him performing that night in their article about his passing last December. It made me smile to see that, as sad as I was when that news came out. But I’ll always remember watching in slack-jawed amazement as he absolutely crushed “One Beer” like he’d written it that day. –Christopher Anhorn
Death Grips at the Ogden Theater (Denver, CO) on June 24, 2015
I lost my front tooth while they played “No Love.” It fucking ruled. –Jacob Lautman
