Primavera Sound 2010: day 3
One-line reviews of bands seen on my third day in Barcelona.
Introductory posting here. Catalan and Spanish acts denoted red.
Parc del Forum, 27may10 (17:00 to 03:45)
Macaco Bong: Instrumental head-jutting rock that sounds in need of a vocal or at least a solid groove, although happilly they eventually come upon the latter.
Biscuit: The Who and Beatles t-shirts are the giveaway, as beefy pop-rock plays out.
Bis: That, despite time marching them into their mid-30’s and pattern baldness attacking two of the original trio without mercy, they can still play ‘Teen C Power’ and ‘Icky Poo Air Raid’ with a straight face merely endears them to me even more than was ever thus.
Surfer Blood: With the Drums also occupying this Smiths-to-Strokes middle ground, can we expect a bare knuckle battle royale at a festival later this summer?
The Fall: At the end of 50 mins and a rigorous ‘Wolf Kidult Man’, Mark E. Smith slips back on his black jacket and departs, triumphant; as do I, knowing that so early in the proceedings, I have already had my money’s worth.
The XX: The splicing in of ATB’s ‘9pm (Til I Come)’ is a masterstroke (I frugged massive to that at my Grad Ball in 1999) but one can’t help wondering if this set had played out in the pitch black of night rather than the creeping lightly precipitative dusk, it would have been raised from very good to very special.
Ui: Laying the bass on thick, the drums take a musical, as well as geographical, back seat, while the guitars have licence to make the whole pot bubble.
Superchunk: Been around the block a few times but the energy’s not deserted them, and guesting Tim Les Savy Fav is clearly overexcited at his task this evening, screaming “this is the best thing ever!”
Tortoise: Why I don’t own more records by these titans of jazz-tinged post-rock becomes an even greater mystery with each note.
Broken Social Scene: Any number of musicians littering the stage but not cluttering the sound, showing out a breezy Americana that breathes the same air as Gram Parsons without being in many respects ‘country’.
Edredón: Overcoming a myriad of lengthy technical issues, they eventually unleash a blanket of comforting electro which them morphs into chiming post-rock then back again.
Mission Of Burma: Chunky college rock meets post-punk pizzazz.
Pavement: Consider myself well ‘eared’ musically, and yet these headlining kings of indie rock have remained off my radar all these years, something which on this evidence needs rectifying.
Chrome Hoof: Glam rock walks into a bar and says “hey fella, my mates funk, doom metal, soul and disco in?” to which the barman replies, “oh don’t you worry, they’re all here too”
Fuck Buttons: Saw them three years ago in a Brixton boozer, but it is for exactly this kind of massive outdoor ampitheatre for which their beautiful noise was made.
**further scribbles from 27may10
>I have been on the festival site for five minutes. Not one band has struck an opening chord and yet I am already mentally booking my ticket for next year.
>The rolls and baguettes stall has sandwiches named after some of the major acts. Naturally I opt for The Fall one. I imagined this to be a sandwich that would refuse to go stale and constanly refresh it’s ingredients. Turns out it was cheese and ham, which doesn’t seem quite as apt.