Muna and the Power of Queer Representation at Pitchfork Music Festival

In Chicago last month, festivalgoers found 'moments of joy' and queer kinship in the music

Muna performs at the 2024 Pitchfork Music Festival in Chicago. Photo: Jordyn Bradley

Published: August 2, 2024 | Last Updated: August 9, 2024

I saw the indie pop band Muna perform live for the first time on my 22nd birthday. I had been a fan for years, and they were opening for Phoebe Bridgers at The Aretha Franklin Amphitheatre in Detroit. Their collaboration “Silk Chiffon” — which Rolling Stone called “bright,” “buoyant,” and “very gay” — had just come out the week prior, and at the time, I simply found it to be a catchy earworm (still true).

Since then, I’ve seen them four more times: most recently, at Chicago’s Pitchfork Music Festival in late July. And while the chemistry of friends and bandmates Katie Gavin, Josette Maskin and Naomi McPherson is apparent onstage, so is the constant message through their songwriting that having situationships, relationships and friendships can be fun, sticky, confusing, embarrassing and enlightening all at the same time — but that’s life.

Muna’s music symbolizes the full package of being a queer person, and more personally, it plays as the soundtrack to my coming-of-age as a queer person.

When I saw them for the first time, the hypothetical love interest in question in all the songs was just Some Person to me. I identified as straight and knew their songs were about queer relationships, so I sang along and related in the ways that I could: with the trickiness of love and finding yourself. The next time I saw them live, I was at a place where I was open to putting a different label (or no label at all) on how I identified. The time after that, I saw them with some friends — and my girlfriend. I sobbed along to songs that helped me process the feelings associated with coming to terms with my identity and coming out. I was surrounded by other people who had also navigated who they were or who they were attracted to, just like the band performing on the stage in front of us had.

Abby Addleman is one of those people. Addleman and I met in the crowd before Muna’s Pitchfork set and she told me how their songs “Silk Chiffon” and “It’s Gonna Be Okay, Baby” helped her come to terms with her sexuality, and in a way, even helped her come out.

“Before I told my one friend, I kept replaying ‘It’s Gonna Be Okay, Baby’ to remind myself that it was,” Addleman said.

The author (left) with Abby Addleman. Photo: Jordyn Bradley

As queer people, we’re taught that community is everything. Attending shows and festivals and being able to dance, sing, laugh, cry and shout together is one of the most formative experiences a person can have, and having them with people that make you feel safe, represented and understood is what I treasure most about live performances. Queer representation in pop culture is crucial for fans to know we aren’t alone in our experiences, or for wanting to have songs and artists we can relate to.

While introducing the song “I Know A Place” during their set, Gavin, Muna’s lead singer, shared that though it was one of the first the band wrote together, it has continued to carry weight and resonate with them and their fans.

“We wrote it just imagining we’d have a space where we’d feel safe,” Gavin said.

This summer, outspoken queer artists are cementing their place in the music industry — and elsewhere — by taking over the festival circuit. Of course, gay musicians have always been here, and have performed at festivals before now, but something about this summer’s lineups feels different. With Chappell Roan blowing up on the scene after opening for Olivia Rodrigo during her Guts Tour, the emerging artist’s fanbase required Bonnaroo organizers to move her performance to a larger stage. Other queer artists, like Tyler, the Creator, Renee Rapp, Janelle Monáe, Brittany Howard, Conan Gray, Julien Baker, Victoria Monét, Ethel Cain and, of course, Muna are also big names on festival lineups this year.

“A lot of these queer artists wouldn’t have a space in these festivals if it weren’t for the queer fans and the stories being written about them, though,” says Carter Jones, a Pitchfork attendee from Idaho.

Muna’s performance at Pitchfork in Chicago came just 13 months after opening for Taylor Swift’s The Eras Tour, the largest–grossing music tour ever, in the same city. Yet the energy was just as explosive as it was for a crowd of over 50,000 at Soldier Field because they seem to understand their impact and the need for artists like themselves in the limelight.

Addleman says it’s thanks to LGBTQ+ musicians she even has an understanding of queerness, as she grew up in an area with very few openly gay people. With songs about the queer experience, like those sung by Muna and other artists, Addleman found the representation she didn’t grow up with.

“That’s how I knew I was queer — I heard about it for the first time in these songs,” she said.

“You need that in mainstream media, then it’s not taboo to talk about.”

"Stacy" flies above the crowd at the 2024 Pitchfork festival in Chicago. Photo: Jordyn Bradley

Nothing was taboo during Muna’s Pitchfork set: the band dedicated their songs “Kind of Girl” to trans fans and “Solid” to “any dykes that are here tonight.” Concertgoers wore homemade and bedazzled shirts with slogans like “homo,” “I heart my gf’s favorite band” and “the greatest band in the world.” Fans collected and connected over the shared experience of standing in the sun to secure a close spot, passing around the band’s beloved inflatable horses (both named Stacy) and belting lyrics about the queer experience.

“We’re a queer band that wants the revolution and we know a lot needs to change for that to happen, but we need to find moments of joy and spaces where people come together,” Gavin said at the end of their set.