{shortcode-72789a648ea685f08e80ec0f0772567e5cf4d6e2}Paul Cherry

Hearts throbbed across Union Park during Saturday’s kickoff set, starring bedroom pop heartthrob Paul Cherry. Cherry could be the next big thing. He’s got Mac DeMarco’s suave, sexy smoothness. He’s got Cuco’s infectious synths and laidback energy. And his art school chicness—a few degrees more palatable than Gus Dapperton’s—is the cherry on top. Each addictive love song melts with mellifluous melodies, from Cherry’s precious falsetto in “This High” to the goofy synth opening of “Your Letter” (which sounds like it could have been written and performed by Ariel Pink). Throughout the performance, Cherry garnished his already adorable songs with even more adorable dance moves and commentary—when one fan, overcome with infatuation, screamed, “I LOVE YOU, PAUL!” he said, “Thanks, Mom!” with a little smirk that said, “I know I’m cute.” Cherry’s bashful charm is so natural that it’s hard to watch him without giggling to yourself a little. When Cherry dedicated his song “Cherry Emoji” to his girlfriend, an audible moan of disappointment sounded throughout the crowd.

Moses Sumney

“Agh, Moses. Come on, Moses. SING!”

This audience member couldn’t contain himself long enough to make it through Moses Sumney’s opening number, the irresistible “Don’t Bother Calling,” without crying out. Sumney’s falsetto will do that you. The man has the voice of an angel—and, trust me, I would not have used that awful cliché if it weren’t true. Performing at Pitchfork on Saturday, he sang just as flawlessly as he did on his debut full-length album, “Aromanticism.” Sumney’s perfect voice is concentrated with so much beauty and feeling that watching him gives a feeling of lightheadedness with awe and respect. He took his performance very seriously, making sure not just to hit every note, but also to extract maximum gorgeousness from everything he did. An adept musician, Sumney played the piano and guitar and even created powerful beats by slapping his microphone with the palm of his hand and looping the rhythms over the music played by his immaculate band. Sumney noted between songs that, while he usually relies on backing tracks and pre-recorded instrumentals, Saturday’s performance was “all fucking live.” He worked hard to make sure the audience had a great time—in the middle of the set, for example, he walked offstage and down the aisle that cut through the crowd. For two full minutes, he held a girl’s hand as he sang—the jumbotron showed her mouthing, “I love you.” There’s something a little ridiculous about the corny spectacle of pop stardom, and, thankfully, Sumney approaches his job with a biting sense of humor. At one point, he mentioned he had collaborated with Sufjan Stevens and James Blake. As we started to cheer, he interjected, “I know, it’s like a wet dream for you people.” Even though he teased the audience, he was clearly very thankful for them. He earnestly expressed his appreciation, making his set a reciprocal experience: The love went both ways.

Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith

If you’re in search of aesthetic and intellectual titillation, you would have loved ambient electronic composer Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith’s Pitchfork set. The Berklee-educated musician stood before a mass of knobs and wires as she focused intently on her ribcage-rattling synths and beats. Instead of working to engage the audience (she didn’t look at or speak to us once), she let the music speak for itself. Artists don’t always have to be performers—and, given Smith’s background, it makes sense why she singularly focuses on her craft. While the ambience is often hard to crack, like a particularly edgy exhibit at the MoMA PS1, the delicate beauty of Smith’s layered rhythms and melodies shines through on studio recordings, like her most recent album, “The Kid.” Unfortunately, however, the overdrive bass at her Pitchfork set drowned out all the subtleties that make her music worth listening to. Perhaps it would have been rewarding, but it was too much work to sift out the pretty parts from underneath the wub-wub-wub. Without obvious beauty or dynamics, her set was a 45-minute-long earache. The most dramatic part was when the stage bouncers escorted away an audience member selling cheap beer from his backpack, forcing festivalgoers to settle for the $6 Rosé cider. That said, more than enough people happily sipped on their overpriced millennial pink beverages, and surrendered themselves to the wub-wub-wub.

Raphael Saadiq

Despite Raphael Saadiq’s fancy music industry chops (not only did he play in Prince’s backing band, but he’s also worked as a producer for Solange, Erykah Badu, TLC, Mary J. Blige, and more) he has the humbleness of a twentysomething just breaking into the biz. (At one point, he brought out Ali Shaheed Muhammad of A Tribe Called Quest, no big deal. But, seriously, he didn’t make a big deal out of it—and it was weirdly refreshing.) His Saturday performance radiated with youthful energy and freshness, despite the fact that he’s over 50 years old. Saadiq approaches his favorite music genres like an adoring superfan, lovingly recreating old school funk and R&B. He doesn’t seem too concerned with making something new. he mostly just wants to have a good time. “I’m about to funk y’all up,” he promised. And he delivered—it was impossible not to dance. Saadiq’s positive energy has no bounds. He even made a story about his brother dying of a heroin overdose uplifting. He performed a new song off his upcoming album, which will be named after his brother, exemplifying the heartwarming nature of his music: “I was going through some hard times / I kept on pushing / I made it through / And I came out brand new.” Who cares if it’s cheesy? You’ll be too busy smiling to realize.

—Staff writer Danielle Eisenman can be reached at danielle.eisenman@thecrimson.com