Festival Review: Primavera Sound 2024 Day One

From whiteying on stage to special guests, read on for our review of primavera day one.

Here we are: the first day of primavera sound in Barcelona, stretching four glorious days with a thick, genre expansive line up with the likes of Disclosure, Lana Del Ray, Charli XCX, Pulp and more. In the day, the city rustled quietly beneath a strong sun. Throngs of tourists could be spotted strategically shade-soaking corners of monuments, delicately sipping sangrias as if in quiet anticipation of what lay ahead. For many, myself included, this was the first visit to the festival that began in 2009 and, situated near the sea, promises bigger and better things with each iteration. Read on for short reviews of all the sets I managed to catch in some bleary, hungover prose typed with sloppy fingers from a square somewhere in the heart of the city. 

Madlib and Freddie Gibbs 

The hip hop duo know for their esoteric discography hit the Santander stage first with high energy. Some six songs in, Freddie ran off stage and appeared, for a while, to have disappeared.  Confused, the crowd watched as his tour manager forced him back on stage to continue the second half of his set. ‘Apparently I have to keep rapping!! I’m too high for this shit!’ He laughed, in reference to the joint passed previously between the beaming duo on the stage. Despite this, he held it together - though at what mental cost it can’t be said. ‘Fuck the police!’ The crowd shouted with him - words on mouths upon ending was ‘funny’ ‘sick’ and ‘anyone got a spliff?’. What a way to herald summers’ beginning.

Mannequin Pussy

Despite complaining consistently that she could only hear snares in her ears and please can someone fix it, Marissa ‘missy’ dabice put on a stellar, fiery show. The band channeled rage and sparked the audience, a hard thing to do with a peaceful blue sky above. ‘Loud bark’ from their 2024 album ‘I got heaven’ remains their greatest song, live and recorded. It wouldn’t be a Mannequin Pussy gig without a fierce political statement; this time they called out any religion that didn’t just let people be, organically and truthfully to their deeper selves.

Amyl & the Sniffers

Amy Taylor had the entire thousand-odd audience gripped between her ass cheeks. The entire place seemed to be moshing, grabbing faces of strangers and screaming joyfully together. New tune ‘you should not be doing that’ landed so well it’s a sure fire indicator of a relit career even spunkier than their loyal following can imagine. Amy made sure to shout ‘free Palestine’ whenever she had a moment of pause - an insane set and a platform used for good.

L’imperatrice

Adorned as always in matching outfits that came straight from the front of an Abba voyage poster, the French pop and nu-disco band served up deliciously groovy choreography and . It might’ve made more sense to see them hip-swishing in the sun not at a industrial feel stage near the entrance. Nonetheless, this bass-funk set had an intergalactic feel. Despite playing all their biggest tunes first, they maintained energy excellently to hype their new album out June 7th. They even used the audience as a prop for a video, floundering hands above heads whenever they desired. 

Duster

Taking to the Steve Albini stage at dusk’s peak was the american indie-rock duet Duster. Known for their drowsy guitar and revival of ‘space rock’, Clay Parton and Canaan Dove Amber were as sincere by the Mediterranean today as they were in 1990s’ California. Quiet base and vocals may have been a conscious ode to an atmospheric melody, but for those of us at the back it made for a tough listening experience - an unexpected juxtaposition to the coziness of their revered debut ‘stratosphere’ we were honouring.

Pulp 

Jarvis cocker, polemical character he is, knows how to move like a legend. Despite twittering on about Sheffield slang for the heavily European audience, the band glimmered, accompanied by an orchestra and the great Mark Webber on guitar who had a stellar show.   It was all theatrics; poised languidly on a couch at the top (‘do you guys mind if I take a little rest?’) Jarvis’ sharp suit lines cut legendary shapes beneath pop-art imagery. ‘Donald trump’s a criminal now!’ He yelled too much fervent applause. They played ‘disco 2000’ a little too early, finished their second encore curiously with ‘Razzamataz’ and spoke a lot about 1995, but they do, indeed, still have it. 

Justice

Though I didn’t catch a lot of the set, Justice can’t seem to keep up with their greatest album coming out over a decade ago. A friend described it as ‘intricate YouTube intro music’ - once he said it, I couldn’t unhear. Following on the same stage as Pulp, too, was bound to be tough. 

Peggy Gou

Rumblings had spread throughout different crowds all night about the 32 year old DJ, renowned for deep house electronic trance sets. Could she meet the hype? It turns out she could do better - she could exceed it. In front of often psychedelic graphics of her own bubble clowning avatar, Peggy twisted dance hit after hit with no sign of duress. She brought out friend and collaborator Villana Marie to sing two songs, one of which was from her upcoming album, and is Peggy’s self professed favourite. Only a few weeks ago she closed Monico gran prix where she introduced her boyfriend Aron Piper, a Spanish actor; here he was again, skipping onto the stage to kiss her dramatically and cover their faces to the cameras with his wobbling hand. She dismissed him with a flick of a hand that frequently held a cigarette, until her asssitant crouching perpetually behind the decs held it for her. From the right the cameras angled trjough two sparkling glasses of champagne and she ended simply with a bow, popping some things in her purse and bag, and exiting stage left. It’s unconceivable how that set could’ve been any better.

A. G. Cook

33 year old British glitchy hyperpop frontier had a tough job to follow Peggy’s transcendental eutrophic fun. Thankfully, he didn’t try to recreate but produced an artful, postmodernist, maximalist set full pf ASMR sounding drips and high pitched vocals. The visuals were strobe heavy in line with his PC Music tack. The only bad thing about this set was that he didn’t bring Charli XCX out, who of course supplied most of the vocals on his new highly acclaimed album ‘Brit pop’. He finished off the night with the titular track, jumping in circles in a library appropriate fit, and the humble gratitude was a great end to a set that, in one word, was goated. Most of the crowd headed for the exact, head still pounding with flashing lights and screechy skips on the metro home. Grab a few hours sleep in a sweaty hostel with no soap, and let’s do it all again tomorrow.