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Primavera Sound Festival [Friday]

From www.pitchfork.com at 29/05/10 04:40 PM. 0 comments.

Barcelona's Primavera Sound Festival kicked off its first day with sets from Broken Social Scene, Pavement, the xx, Titus Andronicus, the Books, Fuck Buttons, Moderat, and more, as we reported yesterday.

On Day Two, things got even bigger and better, with sets from Pixies, Wilco [above], Spoon, Panda Bear, Yeasayer, the New Pornographers, Beach House, and Owen Pallett, among others. Check out selected write-ups of some of the night's big sets, plus a few shots from last night below; then head over to our photo book for full photo sets by Shannon McClean and Elisabeth Vitale.

Owen Pallett [Rockdelux Auditori; 4 p.m.]

The first time I saw Owen Pallett perform live, he was still called Final Fantasy. It was 2004, and he was the opening act for a little band called Arcade Fire. Needless to say, the crowd was hankering for the headline act, but after witnessing Pallett's violin-looping solo show, the audience was on its feet, howling for an encore. Since then Pallett's live reputation has only grown, as evidenced by an enormous Barcelona crowd that greeted him with hushed tones. Pallett's performance was a selection of material from albums new and old: a little He Poos Clouds (recorded as Final Fantasy), and a bit from his recent album under his own name.

But perhaps the highlight of the set was an unexpected cover: "I've never played this song before; we'll see how it goes." Instead of opening with a few plucks or bows of violin, he hammered some drum-machine beats out of his synthesizer. Layering zapping laser pulses above it, Pallett began singing, and the crowd finally recognized it as Caribou's recent single, "Odessa". It was at once completely out of character and yet made total sense. Pallett's forceful tenor might even have suited the song better than Dan Snaith's vocals. The crowd again demanded an encore, and this time it got one. --Tyler Grisham

The New Pornographers [San Miguel Stage; 6:15 p.m.]
"Bands tell lies all the time, but honestly, this is pretty much my favorite city," Carl Newman said during his band's early evening set to a swooning Barcelona audience. Crowd-flattering chatter, sure, but his band did open with "Sing Me Spanish Techno", the light-hearted fan favorite from their third album, Twin Cinema, so maybe he knew a thing or two about local flavor. And though they were without twin secret weapons Neko Case and Dan Bejar, the Pornos brought a surprising amount of heft to a performance that could have otherwise been written off as minor.

They bulldozed through classics like "Mass Romantic" and "Testament To Youth in Verse", before dedicating a particularly brawny version of
"Your Hands" (from new album Together) to the late metal icon Ronnie James Dio, noting "this next one is in the style of Black Sabbath." It wasn't quite that heavy, but for a power pop septet, it had punch. Typically it's no Neko, no credibility. But Carl and co. made due and were more than fine on the Mediterranean. --Sean Fennessey

Spoon [San Miguel Stage; 8:20 p.m.]
"Nobody gets me but you," sings Britt Daniel. The line is rooted in truth. It's hard to "get" Britt Daniel. He's admitted that he doesn't know what he's talking about in his songs all the time. And although I'm a fairly devout Spoon follower, I sometimes have to just give him the benefit of the doubt, logic-wise. So it seems safe to say the largely Spanish crowd at Primavera most definitely did not comprehend many of his word tangles this side of "I Summon You".

Perhaps that explains their tepid response to the band's early-evening main stage set. All the Spooniness we know was there-- Daniel's Lennon-in-leather yowl, the Chuck Berry-via-Kraftwerk beats, the svelte song craft. But Spoon's casual cool doesn't exactly pop on a festival stage, where communal joy is the goal. Still, they gave good background. During the set, a few people moved their feet in front of me in that sort-of-self-conscious, three-beers-in way. They were making up their own fun. One girl did the robot. --Ryan Dombal

Beach House [ATP Stage; 9:15 p.m.]
This was not the first time I'd seen Beach House play a festival stage; in fact, I'd seen them several times, including a few years ago at the Pitchfork Music Festival, when it seemed like their brand of moody torch songs and waltz-time slow-burners was simply not suited to an outdoor environment. Turns out they've learned how to translate these songs to an arena-sized venue. Victoria Legrand's swooning vocals and swaying theatrics kept the huge crowd eating out of her hand. For older cuts like "Gila" and "Heart of Chambers" to selections from this year's Teen Dream, "Walk in the Park" and "Used to Be", she gained a horde of backup singers-- nearly the entire audience. Even the other acts and support crew huddled backstage were singing along. --Tyler Grisham

Wilco [San Miguel Stage; 10:30 p.m.]
Lately, Wilco have been specializing in a sort of beautiful slop during their live shows, reconfiguring their most beloved songs, and adding noisy, scratched layers to the pastoral compositions of their last two albums, Wilco (The Album) and Sky Blue Sky. But, when the moment calls for it, they can always re-become that simple shaggy dog country rock band when they have to be. Technical difficulties struck down mighty guitarist Nels Cline and the rest of the band just two songs into their set on Friday night, so Jeff Tweedy calmly pulled out the acoustic and asked for a sing-along of "Jesus Etc." No-brainer. The crowd, relaxing in the balm of the setting seaside sun, joined right in.

That quiet interlude didn't last long, but it was a fascinating contrast to what would follow: Wilco, Band of Men. For 90 minutes they flexed on nearly every song, from Summerteeth's stormy "A Shot in the Arm" to Sky's stretched-out jam-athon "Impossible Germany", proving that though a certain Dad Rock ethic may now reign in their songwriting, they remain an engaged, engaging crew. Grown maybe, but not yet totally mature. --Sean Fennessey

Panda Bear [Vice Stage; 11:30 p.m.]

Whenever I see a guy starting his set like Panda Bear did tonight, stepping out with a guitar around his neck and making his way to a bank of electronic gear and a single microphone, ready to do a show all by himself, I think: This dude has too much to do up there. Performing and singing are difficult enough without essentially mixing live sound in between guitar strums. Which is to say Panda Bear seemed like he missed the rest of the Collective a little bit during this solo show.

Even when performing with Avey Tare and Geologist, Panda is usually the least animated member, content to work his electronics and sing the sort of heavenly, reverb-drenched vocal lines that are now so often imitated. But tonight, without the visuals that usually accompany his solo performances (trouble with the projection set-up), his low-key stage presence made his set, heavy on unfamiliar new material, a tougher sell. Some of the new songs sounded very promising and increased my anticipation for Tomboy; they were varied in terms of mood and texture, going from loping breakbeats underneath sing-song pop structures to dark, squelchy, almost acid-like synth programming to bleak drones.

But the spark of excited cheering that popped up when he played Person Pitch's "Ponytail" about halfway through was a reminder that a festival crowd is a tough place to try out the new stuff. Some music needs a little time to sink in. --Mark Richardson

Pixies [San Miguel Stage; 1:15 a.m.]

For the second night in a row the big stage headliner was a reunited band that recorded their last album of new material years ago. In the case of Pixies, we're talking almost two full decades since they were a studio concern, though of course they've been back on tour on and off for a few years now. On the evidence here, if nothing else, they haven't taken the reunion for granted. There was something incredibly machine-like about their performance, and I mean that in the best possible way. Pixies were hell-bent on giving people exactly what they wanted, and the crowd was positively ecstatic in the face of their largesse. I've no idea if it has something to do with Frank Black regularly adding bits of Spanish to his songs, but as far as I could see, these were seriously devoted fans who knew every word and danced around to these weird and wonderful songs like it was some kind of alt-rock sock-hop. The feedback of energy was infectious.

Kim Deal looked giddy and was having a ball, but Black was all business, and there was ultimately something refreshing and even a little moving about his willingness and ability to deliver song after amazing song flawlessly. They played every favorite that you wanted them to play, and all were rendered with force and precision. Black has lost a few notes from the high end of his range but none of his screeching power, and he filled the vast space with throat-shredding screams with alarming regularity. I can certainly understand why this reunion turns some off, since Black has been so candid about doing it for the money. But with the band sounding so good, and caught up in the rush of so many people having so much fun, well... if they really are doing it just for the cash, this is one hell of an argument for capitalism. --Mark Richardson

Yeasayer [Vice Stage; 2:30 a.m.]

Even though I saw at least bits of Wilco, Pixies, Joker, Diplo, CocoRosie, the New Pornographers, Wire, and Yeasayer yesterday at Primavera, the best musical moment of the day came by-way-of a MacBook's piece of shit internal speakers. When I was awoken to strains of a delirious new Kanye West song called "Power", the day got off to an incredible start. Even in my half-asleep state, my first utterance while hearing the opening quasi-tribal hollers of the track was: "Kanye's on some Yeasayer shit." Fast forward about 12 hours and there was Yeasayer playing a set filled with hippie-folk sing-alongs filtered through a futuristic orb of synth and light.

While they delivered a consistent set-- closer "Ambling Alp" got a wildly enthusiastic reaction, in particular-- most of the time I just wanted them to start playing "Power" and for Kanye to parachute in from a helicopter and obliterate the entirety of Spain...did I mention this show started at 2:30 in the morning? My brain was not functioning on an entirely logical level. Anyway. Yeasayer did a few of those astoundingly annoying Odd Blood tracks that make them sound like the unholy offspring of Rusted Root and Squirrel Nut Zippers, but they mostly concentrated on the far-from-horrid both newer ("I Remember", "O.N.E.") and older ("Sunrise", "2010"). But their biggest accomplishment of the day was potentially influencing Kanye to kick in with that "Power" sample. Don't laugh. --Ryan Dombal


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