Breaking down the 2009 Pitchfork Music Festival

Kanye rocked ugly puffy sneakers and shutter shades. Vampire Weekend tied pastel sweaters around their necks. Hell, the Killers even brought back Michael Jackson epaulettes and freakin’ sax solos. Let’s face it: The ’80s have been milked drier than a piece of beef jerky. It was inevitable that our recycle culture would turn to the subsequent decade.

Judging by the proliferation of thermal underwear tops, shaggy hair and grimy electric guitars at this weekend’s Pitchfork Music Festival, the ’90s revival is blazing. (So don’t be shocked to spot Winona Ryder shopping for a new boy-toy backstage.)

From a fashion sense, we’re okay with seeing soft flannel and weathered denim replace spandex and skinny jeans. It’s more comfortable, even if everyone looks like crank-heads, hobos and sleepwalkers. But the comeback’s not all about clothes and Rachel haircuts: ’90s culture was a reaction to the vain, vapid glamour of hair metal and Duran Duran. Wall Street and swimsuit models gave way to DIY and riot grrrls. Indie and alternative meant something. There was a sense that grassroots movements could actually have major impact on the mainstream.

Maybe it’s because there’s a Democrat back in office. More likely it’s the economy. But college kids are finding it hard to balance belt-tightening and unemployment with slick synth-pop songs. In the face of iPhone apps, 3-D animation flicks, cloud computing and Auto-Tune, rough and raw rock & roll feels more real right now.

So, those who yearn for the days of dial-up Internet, follow the path below. But if the sounds of Seattle make you sick, dodge the Cobain babies and stick with the schedule to the right.

I love the ’90s!

I’M INTO…

Lo-fi
Buried beneath tape hiss, San Diego’s Wavves (Sat, 5:30pm, B Stage) need little more than glue fumes and a boom box to make sun-bleached slacker punk. Harmonies are easier to pick out from the Vivian Girls’ (Sun, 6:30pm, B) racket, but only because there are three of them oohing and aahing over the garage slop.

Post-rock
Like “Hog Butcher to the World,” Chicago is stuck with the unfortunate stigma of creating this subgenre. But when it comes to plinky-plonk instrumental prog, old-timers Dianogah (Sun, 1:45pm, B) and Tortoise (Fri, 5pm, C) are boss. Funky music to scratch your chin to.

Grunge
Still think Kurt’s ripped-knee jeans were dreamy? The Thermals (Sun, 4:15pm, A) have you covered with scuzzy power-pop straight outta the Northwest. Just up the Pacific coast, Vancouver duo Japandroids (Sun, 5:30pm, B) bashes like lumberjacks in a fog of distortion.

The originals
Why settle for copycats? Clinton-era artifacts make up the entire Friday schedule. Yo La Tengo (Fri, 6:10pm, A) practically invented record-geek chic and helped re-cool the Beach Boys and Velvet Underground with its droning pop, while Built to Spill (Fri, 8:40pm, A) still fills college-crush mix-tapes with slacker shredding. Onomatopoetic screamer David Yow drags his dirty-old-man grunt-punk from the retirement home with the Jesus Lizard.

I hate the ’90s!

I’M INTO…

The ’80s
Still living in a John Hughes movie? M83 (Sun, 6:15pm, A) is your soundtrack. The dreamy French synth-gazers want to roller-skate with Molly Ringwald but get a little more Judd Nelson–tough live. Fans of the plastic fantastic should also gravitate to Lindstrøm’s (Sat, 6:30pm, B) space disco and Mew’s (Sun, 7:30pm, B) astral arena rock.

The here and now
Perhaps you think nostalgia—and sleeping in—is for the weak. Fortunately, you early birds can check out up-and-coming locals on the bottom of the bill. Echo-addicts Disappears (Sat, 1pm, B) churn and chug away in a haze, while the Killer Whales (Sun, 2:40pm, B) and Michael Columbia (Sun, 1pm, B) kick up a kooky funk-punk racket.

The future
The Very Best’s (Sun, 8:30pm, B) banging, next-level shit fast-forwards to an era when Euro club kids fly Jetsons cars down to Kinshasa for a rave. DJ/Rupture’s (Sun, 4:30pm, B) moody bass pulses make rusty industrial landscapes sound like a Zen garden, and rapper DOOM (Sat, 6:15pm, A) dishes out dense, apocalyptic raps.

The Gay ’90s
Maybe you want to wind the clock way back—like, to before wristwatches. Grizzly Bear’s (Sun, 7:25pm, C) barbershop chamber-pop is safe enough for Great Granddad and offers the highest probability of spotting seersucker and bow ties. Sousaphone-tootin’ Beirut (Sat, 7:25pm, C) imports sepia-toned global sounds like an aristocratic explorer. He might as well sport a pith helmet.

Get your ’90s fix (or don’t) Friday–Sunday at Union Park (1501 W Randolph St).