Gigwise At Primavera Sound 2008!

Never let anyone tell you the Spanish can’t do festivals. Benicassim was a revelation, but Primavera Sound has more going for it than anything over here, except ATP. And Primavera essentially is ATP, but with more sun, and more space. The venue, the Parc Del Forum - luxurious size, perfect sound on most stages, lack of enormous crowds, easy to walk on easy to clean concrete, seaside location – is faultless. The joy of which was slammed home when a boat sailed past the Vice stage during Atlas Sound on day three. Brandon Cox’s side project, though, were barely a glimmer of the glitchy ambience on ‘Let The Blind Lead Those Who Can See But Cannot Feel’, as he came over all barely-there on stage. Cox’s more post-punk project, Deerhunter were missed in favour of a maybe-never-again Mission Of Burma jaunt, who kicked the shit out of everything in bringing their seething punk-rock to the old-school punk faithful.

But let’s rewind, back to the beginning…

Day One’s wet dream were Health, sometimes with three drummers, sometimes with three lacerating vocal chords, they were a screamo revelation, with the tribal belligerence of Liars’ 2006 ‘Drum’s Not Dead’ album, bolstered with savagery. Over on the Rock Delux stage, Primavera’s largest, Public Enemy did the decent thing and let the Bomb Squad entertain with 30 minutes of dubstep cuts, before Flavor Flav and Chuck D bounced and hollered through most of ‘It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back’. Portishead followed, dark and twisted with Beth Gibbons a premiere eerie front lady, doing little but create introverted havoc with her shriek. Which is exactly what Vampire Weekend didn’t do the monster crowd baying for their post-Strokes frat-prep-Harvard-pop back on Vice.

Day Two saw their antidote, The Cribs, welcome the day on the Estrella Damm stage with their proper underground indie, complete with the best songs from Leeds, bar none, right now. No Age on Vice are as good for LA as The Cribs are for Yorkshire, so consumable are their fuzz-packed tales of passion. The Sonics back on Estrella Damm offered did their psychedelic thing and Devo whipped it, thrashed it, camped it and synthed it in yellow all-in-one’s and red flowerpot hats. They might be old, but their magic; magic like Holy Fuck turning into dance superstars at half four in the morning.

Day Three, though, was when it all happened. Ohioans Times New Viking on the ATP stage were a glorious mess. Drummer Adam Elliot rambled, and keyboardist/vocalist Beth Murphy’s brain was scrambled, but they got their noise-pop heard. Just. Silver Jews dicked all over the young and freaky with some lyrics you could make out, decent beards and suits. Rufus Wainwright on Estrelle Damm was in fey and playful form, complimenting Spain on their women, while Dinosaur Jr continued the battle for the loudest and most lobe destroying band on this earth.

Shellac back on ATP pushed ‘em hard mind pummelling their way through sad fucking songs, a failed Q&A session with Scout Niblett on A’s and Steve Albini shouting as obnoxiously as ever he could. Only Les Savy Fav and Tim Harrington could’ve followed him without merging into insignificance. And decked out in a multi-coloured leotard and bringing forth his brand of podgy, bearded mentalism, was admirable. Late night Animal Collective, back at the Estrella Damm, showed again they should’ve been allowed their blaring light-show schizophrenia and psych-folk-freakery on a stage this big sooner..

Nothing as mind-bending came from Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks back on Vice, who were a tad wimpy, if anything, even with Janet Weiss pulverising her drums. Or Young Marble Giants in the Auditorium (the only indoor venue) who were slick, smart and full of chat. Surprise of the weekend, though, goes to Kavinsky (Vincent Belorgey), last act, last night, on Vice, who drilled out the festivals last French techno beats under rain so heavy, no sea could’ve made you wetter. It was the first rainfall of the weekend, and a dramatic finale to an event so well planned and glorious, it makes us British look like cak-handed chancers.