Estrella Primavera Sound Festival - Barcelona, Spain - 29-31/5/08
5/5
By: Dan Monsell
Rockfeedback has experienced a fair share of festivals in its time, but one thing's for sure, Primavera Sound is one of the best. Full of all the right ideas, it boasts an ocean-facing setting with every stage set up like grand coliseums. On top of that, the sound systems are fantastically loud, you stay in beds, and it runs like an all night rather than during the day. All that's left to push things into the realm of utter perfection is a line-up featuring some of the best bands from all around the world. Got that in abundance? We're sold.
Our first day at Primavera kicks off with one of the world's longest press pass queues, meaning we only just make it on site in time for MGMT open proceedings. The New Yorkers look full of day one energy, and their brand of psychedelic pop goes down a happy treat. They're certainly helped by a crowd smiling wide at the realization that they're in for three days of watching bands in the sun in Barcelona. Hell yes.
Next up LA noiseniks HEALTH bash out some tribal walls of sounds down on the Vice-Jaegermesiter stage. While are ears are still relatively fresh, it's pretty easy to see why people are getting so excited about this lot. Despite a member that appears to do little more than go mental, bang the odd drum and occasionally play an instrument, they're a satisfying noise assault.
Into the darkness of the night, Public Enemy build up a live performance of their seminal LP, It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold us Back, with an intro that clocks in at well over half an hour. By the time 'Bring the Noize' hits, people are so pumped with anticipation it's as if our lives have finally been saved. Complete with military uniforms and Flavour Flav's ever present swinging clock, their triumphant set fittingly celebrates twenty years of a musical milestone that is the record in question.
The presence of De La Soul on the same stage later in the evening means we see two true titans of the hip-hop world in a matter of hours. The poignancy and brilliance of their sets not only reminds us how good they both are, but also serves to highlight the disappointing state of modern mainstream hip hop. In the absence of some ability to channel the genre into some form of more positive message (DLS) or politically astute ideas (PE), it seems things have taken some kind of wrong turn of late. Both are on absolutely top form, though it must be said that the crowd for De La is disappointingly thin.
Sandwiched between these two giants of the hip-hop world, the festival's "headliner" of sorts (bigger bands playing slightly earlier in the evening, rather than wait around until 3am), Portishead play the first of a pair of sets they're doing over the weekend. The band take to the stage when many are hitting a point of real energy, unfortunately meaning that some are left a little restless by the end of an unsurprisingly down tempo set. However, these kids should get off their iPhones and get themselves a neat shot of patience juice, because tonight the band display all that has made them one of the great musical talents from English shores in recent years. Sections of old classics are perfectly executed; even updated with odd electronic sounds at times. Public Enemy's Chuck D makes an appearance for 'Machine Gun', and Beth Gibbons' wonderful vocal majesties suitably quiver our tear ducts and chill our bones to solid ice.
Further into the evening we join the mini carnival-like party that is Caribou, playing on the festival's smallest stage. The dual-drummer set up creates a euphoric sound full of mind wandering splendour that's really one of the surprise highlights of the whole festival.
Later still, and an almost surprise choice for 2.30am, Vampire Weekend stroll on to the Vice stage; their faces now so recognisable it's as if watching a gang of old friends. There was some concern that the festival's rather leftfield music-loving crowd might take issue with a group that can now lay claim to being proper bonafide pop stars. This is something that doesn't appear to factor for a second - as well it shouldn't - as the carnival moves up a gear, with a packed crowd unable to resist dancing and singing along to a band that fill even the biggest cynic with absolute joy. Bravo to them.
We finish day one with one euro Jaigermiester and unable to resist a VIP section that literally jaunts out to sea on a little island. Paradise? Probably.
ALL PHOTOGRAPHS COPYRIGHT RACHEL HOWE 2008
But on day one we get to sleep scarily late. On day two we wake up frustratingly early. Thus, the day prompts a discovery that we can mix our one euro jaegermeister with red bull; just about tolerably. It makes a kind of Ribena meets cough mixture concoction. I say just about tolerably: if you can tolerate a grimace and a little shout at the heavens every time you swig - it's tasty stuff.
Amongst others creating a big buzz at this year's festival was No Age, an LA duo making some great noisy rock and roll. Unfortunately, on a massive stage their bass-lacking noise feels empty, the vocals shaky, and the sum of the parts tepid and deficient. It seems that the band can't make what would sound great at raucous house party gig work on a bigger stage. Perhaps in time.
Shrugging off early day two disappointment, we get a bit of a happy boost from some dad-rocking veterans, The Sonics. These guys must be in their sixties by now, but tracks like 'The Witch' and 'Have Love Will Travel' have clearly only matured well as time has worn on. For the duration of their set they transform an achingly cool contemporary music festival into a summer fete with your dad's jam band dressed in leathers playing in the corner. That said, we couldn't really stomach more than a half hour of pretty repetitious rock and blues, and we dash off to the ATP stage.
It is there, through the festival's "woods," that we find Autolux on absolutely stellar form. There's a confident air of casual brilliance about this LA three piece, as they effortlessly fill the dirty ground falling between Sonic Youth and My Bloody Valentine. They play loud, at ear piercing volume, all in a setting of fading light and the sweeping Mediterranean ocean behind them. Smiles all round.
However all this is mere foreplay. Devo are on next and a salivating crowd has gathered acres of time before they're due to play. Their set was always going to be a major moment. For the next hour and a quarter they proceed to meet very high expectations, and then some. In amongst odd multimedia visual escapades, they open their set by literally cranking out all the hits in one big, fat line. Old they may be, but it is unlikely you will see so much energy from those the wrong side of 40. Madonna shmaddona, age has also clearly not disturbed the fact that they a band of concepts a plenty. Throughout Devo's set they change from their trademark branded boiler suits to what can only be described as referee kits with weird kneepads. They bust out dance routines, throw Devo hats ("energy domes") into the crowd and finish with lead vocalist Mark Mathersbaugh, dressed as a small child ("booji boy") throwing a basket of multi-coloured bouncy balls into the crowd while a six foot bunny rabbit dances behind him. Magic stuff.
Perhaps it is the quality of Devo that means that what follows fails to have any real impact. Cat Power has a truly stunning voice, however in contrast to the delight of Portishead's slow paced melodrama yesterday, her lounge antics fall rather flat into an area approaching Katie Melua style crooning.
The Go Team! are a good band, and tonight do everything they can to get people in a Brighton party spirit. Unfortunately, in these surrounding the whole thing feels oddly lacking in spine. Later on a member of the band Why? tells me that he thinks "the Team" sound rather like the Spice Girls. I can't work out how that's the case, and just smile and nod. He is however right that The Go! Team are a bit lame tonight, and don't really cut it in the context of all the other magnificent stuff about.
Into the very early late hours of the evening, the Vice stage is totally unrivalled in what it can offer: White Williams, El Guincho and Holy Fuck take us though until past 5 am. We only really catch the end of White Williams, whose stomping electro-funk sounds pleasing enough. It's El Guincho though who really make us open our ears and eyes wide. These Catalan lands claim him as their own, and it's clear that he's the returning hero in amongst a foreign invasion of talent. How one very polite and rather modest guy can make such a powerful and inspiring sound is beyond me. Whilst it's actually relatively unclear what Guincho actually does, it's almost irrelevant. He stands flanked by two huge VJ screens, clutching a stick for percussion in one hand; creating electronic masterpieces with the other. In no time at all the whole thing becomes what can only be described as an ocean-facing tribal rave. There's echoes of LCD soundsystem and Animal Collective in a set that demonstrates that Catalonia can do more than throw the one of best festivals, it can also produce one of its greatest acts.
We're too tired for the similarly excellent Holy Fuck. Our apologies to them for our failures to offer proper judgement. We watch from the steps as the carnival continues, witnessing rather sleepily as the night's remaining hardcore carry out the first stage invasion of the weekend. Bedtime.
ALL PHOTOGRAPHS COPYRIGHT RACHEL HOWE 2008
Day three, and we had intended to get to the site at the impossibly early time of 4pm for early shows from Bon Iver and Times New Viking, on a final day that started just that little bit too early. Instead, we wake up probably around the same sort of time Iver is wooing crowds with 'Skinny Love'. Oops. We are going to need our energy tonight though; day three is a BIG day chock-a-block with good stuff.
We start with the indie-pop masterpiece that is London's Fanfarlo. While Cathy from the band displayed drunkenness that would make Motley Crue proud when we saw her the previous night, she and the rest of the band are on top form today. Quite how she can stand today, let alone play, is a marvel to our eyes. We at Rockfeedback have iterated time and time again that this band is literally fantastic. In short, its time the music industry stops f**king about and makes these guys superstars. Simple as that.
The image that's on all the posters for Primavera is a sweaty drummer looking at his programme to see what he needs to dash to see the moment he finishes his set - this being a festival of true music loving performers. Clearly Fanfarlo perfectly this bill, minutes after their set is over, a couple of members join me in seeing post-punk relics Young Marble Giants. The unsung veterans deliver a steady, minimal and quietly inspiring set in an amazing indoor theatre space of the auditori - a truly amazing venue to have as part of a festival. They even throw in a dazzling light show to boot, leaving us madly spaced out for a good half hour after.
Next up, the brief section we catch of Dirty Projectors is crazily impressive. Those are some strange folks all right. Coming across like Yeasayer but way weirder, we're very ready to hear more of these. Can't stop though, we have to trek to the other side of the site, although only arriving in time to catch the last bit of Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks. Damn. 'Ol Steve seems on as good form as ever though, and despite not many knowing much of his Jicks material, people are relatively happy to hear his distinctive voice, and admire the king of the plaid shirt that adorns so many of the shoulders in front of him.
There's something about Rufus Wainwright that's just incredibly arrogant. To be as brave to stand on a stage as big as tonight's, and play just an acoustic or a piano, with no accompaniment - it's something that takes some self-belief. The "gay messiah" does indeed do incredibly well to fill the stage as much as he does.
However, after a while his egomaniac rants between songs become too much to bear, and we skulk off to see Deerhunter. Over on the ATP stage, the Atlanta, Georgia five-piece deliver a solid hour of ambient punk sounds to an eager crowd. At times it's frustratingly sparse, but when they kick into the Brian Jonestown Massacre/Secret Machines style rock stomps it's a pretty steady rocking affair. Enjoyable stuff: but at the same time, kind of forgettable.
Hurtling deeper into the height of hard-fucking-rocking day three: we witness everyone's favourite slacker-grungers, Dinosaur Jr, play unspeakably loud on the festival's main stage. Standing powerfully but anonymously under his long grey hair, J. Mascis fires out shards of heavy riffage from an impossibly high stack of Marshall amps. The long-standing rift with bassist Lou Barlow is seemingly put on hold for an hour of big fun. People are proper rock and roll dancing; this here's the final day of a festival alright.
A similar mood seems to be in place over at the ATP stage for Steve Albini and his cohorts - otherwise known as Shellac. The crowd is the biggest we've seen at this stage over the whole festival. The band play incredibly hard and Albini's unpleasant oddball antics are out in full force - there are gimp masks, some nasty, dirgy sounds and proper powerhouse rock. The band is clearly very happy to have such a big crowd in attendance, and we witness the first discernibly proper mosh pit we've seen at the whole festival, and certainly the first crowd surfer.
Following them Tim Harrington, vocalist of Les Savy Fav, pushes things into a new realm of raucous as he prepares for his band's set by running around the crowd drinking people's drinks, causing havoc and generally mucking about. Gosh, that guy. His relentless energy continues throughout the set itself, successfully covering every single inch of the whole ATP stage area. Not content with just running around, there's also costume changes and jokes a plenty. In total, the band knock out their arty take on post-hardcore in a truly excellent fashion. Its clear Harrington himself's a fan; we can hear him shouting praise as he jumps along with the front row.
2.15am; day three; the end approaching; tired, warped and drunken minds ready to unleash into whatever's put in front of us; enter Animal Collective to headline. This is the last "band" before DJs take us into Sunday's daylight. Forget any of poppy notions that came with new LP Strawberry Jam, forget the more acoustic driven jams of Leaf House or the Sung Tongs album. Tonight, Animal Collective concentrate on a loop-building electronica driven set that is nothing short of incredibly and unbelievably weird, and utterly and unforgettably mesmerizing. Combined with a head-melting light show, it's more of an all-over body experience than a musical performance. In short, it's a perfect end to a perfect festival that leaves us a crumpled, ruined mess on the floor.
Bring on next year.
ALL PHOTOGRAPHS COPYRIGHT RACHEL HOWE 2008
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