I think it’s a safe assumption to make that most of the crowd at Primavera Sound 2010 had a tiny little bit of their heart washed away into the Barcelona sea, half-beating and withered inside an empty Don Simon sangria carton. This might be because every element of Primavera is pretty much perfect. It’s set in a balmy, vibrant city, meaning you can forego the pain of baking to death in a £10 Argos tent and lord it up in your very own genuine, terracotta Spanish apartment.
The line-up is cherry-picked to jaw-dropping perfection, effortlessly blending vintage indie with intelligent new bands and dance mastery. And the whole party doesn’t poop until way after 4am. The bill was massive so it would take an army of scurrying nerds to cover all bases, but we tried our best. Here are Disorder’s highlights for each day:
Thursday
Having bounced from apartment to the beachside Parc del Forum, pink-nosed and excitable, we arrived in time for The Fall on the main San Miguel stage. The sight of Mark E Smith’s crumbling face lumbering around the stage, miserably honking out songs in his unmistakable nasal tone was a rather excellent kick start. It’s a shame that The Fall seem to divide opinion and a back catalogue so vast it would take pure might and a giant pickaxe to even begin to penetrate it. A lot of people simply ‘never got into them’ but tonight they were stronger than ever, performing tracks from new album ‘Your Future, Our Clutter’ as well as some old chestnuts.
Mark E Smith is such a miserable bastard he managed to induce a rogue rain shower just to piss off the youthful, happy crowd. Thankfully short lived, it provided a suitably edgy atmosphere for The XX who played a brooding set on the Ray Ban stage – conveniently situated amidst fine amphitheatre seating – running through their self-titled debut into a climatic, thrashing crescendo.
Next it was over to the Pitchfork stage for Wild Beasts, the affable foursome from Cumbria. Their twinkling, shimmering set was an early highlight, balanced equally with material from debut Limbo Panto and last years critical hit Two Dancers. The crowd were held truly captivated, which is particularly impressive given their lack of showmanship.
Legends Pavement closed the San Miguel stage, performing a greatest hits set prompting mass singalong and nostalgic arm flailing, kind of what you’d imagine the crowd for Stone Roses at Spike Island to have been like. Fuck Buttons were quite the antidote to early 90s warblings; their electrifying 9 minute epics seared into your cerebellum with such volume and thrust it was hard to tell whether to shake a leg or simply go for a lie down.
Moderat closed the night, the time at this point being a respectable 4.30am. The Modeselektor/ Apparat collaborative machine played a slow-burning hour set to a sunstroked crowd of apathetic zombies. Time for bed.
Friday
Friday provided considerable stress due to the line up being so packed the palpable risk of choosing the wrong band was slightly nauseating. Condo Fucks were our first stop off. Essentially Yo La Tengo under a bizarre pseudonym, the band performed, rather joyously, a set consisting entirely of cover versions from their own back catalogue as well as low-fi obscurities.
CocoRosie, the ‘kooky’ chirping freak folkers- occasionally tedious on record- were a surprise hit. Originally two Paris-based sisters, the recent addition of a beatboxer, synths and a bassist made for a deeper sound and a captivating stage show.
Not as captivating as Les Savy Fav, an indie circus led by wobbling master Tim Harrington who arrived on stage in a full flashing romper suit and left a naked mess with only his greasy mitts to cover his chorizo sausage.
Fellow oldsters Pixies headlined next, churning out a reunion-by-numbers set of early classics, with a few oddities from Trompe Le Monde chucked in to bulk it out. Their comeback confirmed the fact that they are a magically ageless band, their music still inducing goosebumps and headbanging (not necessarily at the same time), with closer “Where is my Mind?” resulting in more than a few group hugs.
Less hugging and more headbanging was going on across the way on the Pitchfork Stage for Major Lazer, a Diplo/ Switch collaboration, whose spangled, dizzy electro generated the ultimate seal of festival approval- a stage invasion which involved the band humping members of the crowd.
This was followed closely by Yeasayer, fresh off the promotion trail for new album Odd Blood, whose psychedelic indie was a delicate entrée to Diplo, who, after a quick spruce up in a Portaloo joined us once more, this time flying solo to close the Friday- probably one of the best festival 24 hours since the Robbie Williams day at Glastonbury 2005.
Saturday… Click Here for Part 2!
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