Accompanied by images of the wonderful attendees shot by Emma Rahmani, Features Editor Ben Tibbits eulogises another successful year of Primavera, celebrating powerpuff headliners, jaw-dropping outfits and incredulous vibes.
It’s 30 degrees, the sun beams down on my sun-creamed features, an Estrella touches my lips and I’m falling in love with Ellie Roswell all over again. Wolf Alice are back, baby — and Primavera Sound is in full flow.
There’s nothing quite like a trio of days feeling nice and getting just a little bit naughty on Barcelona’s seafront. For me, that involved an elongated travel from Reus airport (yeah I don’t know what that is either) for misguided economic reasons, attempted lime bike rides only to find out they use a lock system beyond my mental capacity (sort it out Spain), and plenty of audience interactions. The crowd, very gay by both definitions, were in high spirits (get it), dropping cringe-inducing festival tales too riskée to feature in the vox pops.
Music wise? Call me a trend stickler, but Charli and Troye weren’t all that. I get it, you’re cooler than me, but can we have something new now? Sivan I can allow, it was his birthday after all, but Mrs xcx could bring something more… hopefully her LIDO showcase will mark a fresh horizon.
Sabrina was fun — full of bubblegum goodness and just the right dose of cheeky. Jamie xx brought the party, Fontaines D.C. took a significant stand, Floating Points manufactured a musically-decadent nervous breakdown, FKA twigs looked to the future. The breadth of choice is overstimulating, in the best way.
Shout out to the Warehouse — quite simply, the revamped car park is the place to be after 4am. Djrum, someone I wasn’t aware of before attending, was maybe the best thing I saw all weekend. The magic of a festival finds its apex in discovery.
Seemingly every journalist south of Aberdeen was in attendance. The amount of taps on the shoulder, hit-and-miss daps, euphoric encounters… to those reading this that saw the worst of me, I do sincerely apologise. Call it the festival fever.
Primavera Sound, you are a love letter to music, a paragon of celebration, an odyssey of the mind and a break from reality. We bow to your beauty.
Will I return? If they let me.
