The Primavera Weekender is held in a surprising setting: a bungalow resort near Benidorm, set in the world of Robin Hood. That gives a dose of aesthetic strangeness to the proposal, but the truth is that the venue could not be more comfortable: pleasant rooms, non-existent distances, general good vibes… A festival for people who have had many festivals and are somewhat tired of musical triathlons. Be careful, here although there are hardly any overlaps, there are also concert marathons. But with the advantage that, in less than five minutes, you are back to your cabin.
At the Weekender everyone mixes: you can take a photo with Joe Casey, the singer of Protomartyr on his way to see Bob Mold. Bob opens the Damm stage bareback, with only the electric guitar. He misses the band accompaniment, but he puts so much desire and passion into it that he still enjoys his repertoire full of gems from Hüsker Dü mainly, but also Sugar and nods to his current career, such as opening with ‘The War’, from his album ‘Beauty & Ruin’. He immediately engages without pauses with the legacy of Hüsker Dü: ‘Flip Your Wig’ and the wonderful ‘I Apologise’.
Bob walks the stage from end to end in the instrumental parts as if possessed. During a short break he asks us what bands we are going to see and, ironically, he points to his guitar and says: “As far as I’m concerned, this is the only thing you’re going to see.” ‘Forecast of Rain’ and ‘Next Generation’, other songs from the present, fit very well among such a gem from the 80s as ‘Celebrated Summer’. But of course, the set ends and he attacks us at the waterline: the imperial ‘If I Can’t Change Your Mind’ by Sugar, in which he does the final “tiriri” with his voice in a very funny way, ‘ See a Little Light’ from his distant solo debut and of course, close with Hüsker Dü and ‘Makes no Sense at All’ while I dance and bounce in the front row.
The concert of Dinosaur Jr It has absolutely nothing to do with last year’s Primavera. If that one was only correct, and affected by several external and internal incidents (weak sound), this time Mascis, Barlow and Murph sweep everything away. The sound is somewhat dirty and saturated, but it is perfect for their repertoire. Even Mascis and Lou’s hair is even more hairy, especially Lou’s, whose face can barely be seen because he shakes so much (and shakes his lush hair). Even J Mascis is moving and more expressive than usual!
Barlow’s moment of glory soon arrives, ‘Garden’, one of the few concessions to the present in a concert of past hits. Sonic storms follow one another, Mascis’s guitar virguerías. Bob Mold, on the side, is attentive and shakes his head. The rare breaks to tune the guitar do not break the energy. In ‘Start Chopin’ we dedicate ourselves to crazy air guitar. In ‘The Wagon’ the audience returns the chorus to the alienated Mascis. But the maximum madness is unleashed in ‘Feel the Pain’: pogos, euphoria, I take cover behind my boyfriend because I have the tumult next to me while I imitate the classic guitar riffs of the song. ‘Freak Scene’ is fucking exciting, hair standing on end. And of course, ‘Just Like Heaven’, with Lou Barlow shining in his black metal “Youuu”. Monumental.
Having left Dinosaur Jr so highly affects the correct assessment of OFF!. The hardcore punk supergroup sounds like a shot, they offer us fury and there are pogos from minute one on the Brugal stage, a very curious space that emulates medieval jousting venues, sand floor and stands included. I see them sitting like a lady, I see the precarious crowdsurfing of the public from above, while Keith Morris, with his unmistakable dreadlocks, cries out and looks excited. They sound powerful and accelerated but, alas, my energy and my heart have been stolen from me by Dinosaur Jr.
Biig Piig It is a balm after so many noisy older gentlemen. Jessica Smyth seems to want to pay tribute to Mel C in her wardrobe, although her music is more in the eighties pop, something funky, something tropical, a little Roosevelt, a little Sade: in her band a saxophonist and a keyboard-bassist shine brilliantly. of managed. She tells us in very well-pronounced Spanish that she hasn’t come to Spain to play in a long time. His joviality conquers us, his live performance even more so, because it gives more dynamism to his proposal, because it makes his voice shine silky. Many of her songs mix Spanish with English, like ‘Roses and Gold’. She seems more and more animated, although the murmur of conversation is constant and even being in the front row does not free you from the charlatans. Her concert little by little slides into more 90’s territory thanks to the presence of drum & bass. Suddenly she begins to give us a speech about her body, asks the audience to step aside, to let our bodies go and whoop!: she jumps in the middle of the track and is hoisted and carried by the crowd while she sings ‘Switch’. She has an even better time than us. And of course, to close ‘Kerosene’, which couldn’t joyfully sound more like 1992.
Moving between scenarios couldn’t be easier, it just takes a few steps. Of course, you take a moment to go to the bathroom or wait for your friends and you miss the beginning of Deerhoof. The experimental noise-rock quartet is all lined up in the foreground, drums included. Deerhoof are charming and exude a very hippy and also very intellectual energy, without being pedantic. The drummer-dollman plays the instrument like there’s no tomorrow, and the singer-bassist Satomi Matsuzaki has a rare charisma. As the concert goes on they are looser and less aligned. The drummer tells us that when they were told they were going to play in a castle, they were very happy. But when they are playing with all of us in the castle they feel extremely happy. As I said, charming. And now it’s time for Fucked Up, but I’ve been up since 7, Saturday’s day is looking like a marathon and we have to save our strength. In five minutes, I’m already in bed. That’s wonderful too.
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