When is primavera festival 2011

Yeah, not a lot of folks have a high tolerance for jackhammering drum machine beats, numbingly repetitive keyboard lines, and a guy moaning through echo effects about sex and death. But Suicide have never been about pleasing crowds. At all. To Suicide? Vega wore a ski hat and sunglasses hopefully Ray-Bans! Both men barely moved as they plowed through the entirety of their landmark self-titled debut album.

Vega literally pounded his keyboard with his knuckles, coaxing out unholy waves of noise. Rev occasionally raised a fist or busted a weird karate chop move. But mostly, they just stood there and let the wall of sound take over all forms of life that stood in its path. It was punishingly, unforgivingly loud. I alternately felt hypnotized, pissed off, and extremely bored.

And my headache wasn't gone for at least a half hour afterwards. I guess Suicide would consider that a success. The quarter-full audience that was in attendance for Oneohtrix Point Never had filled the ATP area to brim for Caribou's color-wheel electronic pop. Dan Snaith's shape-shifting project has been popular since the heavy-lidded beatific bursts of 's Up in Flames , so maybe I shouldn't have been surprised at the high turnout.

But I've always thought of Snaith's music as cerebral and, in the case of last year's Swim , emotionally inward. And yet the crowd raged, cheered, and moved as one undulating mass throughout the set-- mostly because, well, Snaith and his crew straight brought it, no question. Caribou's live reputation precedes them see: last year's knee-deep-at-ATP document Caribou Vibration Ensemble , but here at Primavera they were truly crowd-pleasing, as added percussion turned every song on the Swim -heavy set into pure liquid ecstasy.

During the groove-laden workout of Swim 's "Bowls", a group of people in front of me-- all decked in sunglasses-- took pictures as they excitedly spilled beer everywhere and gave each other high fives. Considering how much everyone enjoyed the party, the next time Caribou take a festival stage, it could be to an even larger crowd. Crazy world. It made sense, but this is the guy who wrote "Girlfriend"-- shouldn't there be a little more, you know, energy running through the crowd?

Clearly, everyone was saving it up, because from the first guitar chord, the place turned into a fucking madhouse, with wall-to-wall moshing that seldom let up during the set's half-hour duration.

Segall has a new album out in June, Goodbye Bread , and it's a more reserved affair next to last year's Melted. That didn't matter here, though, since the new material rocked with a sludgy drip that recalled Bleach -era Nirvana. The crowd probably didn't know the new stuff, but they shouted along anyway. At one point, a guy shouted out, "Shoes! Immediately, a small circle of people stopped thrashing, cell phones came out to light the ground, and lefty and righty were returned to their rightful owner.

Then, the thrashing re-commenced. Oh brother, not these guys again. While the genre-bending wastrels in Salem had a surprisingly eventful , they've stayed fairly quiet so far this year. Nonetheless, they can't avoid being the center of conversation. If only that enthusiasm translated into actual fandom, as there were Internet rumblings that the band's recent U. Still, I enjoyed Salem's performance at last year's CMJ festival; it was loud, it was in a dark room, and there wasn't too much rapping from band member Jack Donoghue.

Here, the band actually gathered a decent-size crowd that had, inexplicably, increased by the set's end. After a half-hour delay that consisted of stagehands scrambling to plug and unplug cords, as well as Spinal Tap levels of smoke machine abuse, the band slithered on stage and delivered a thin-sounding version of their blasted, dirty music.

Cues were missed and the fog that engulfed singer Heather Marlatt was more engaging than her vocal work, which was swallowed by bad sound.

Belle and Sebastian. Big Boi. Blank Dogs. Connan Mockasin. El Guincho. Factory Floor. Girl Talk. Gold Panda. John Talabot. Moon Duo. Public Image Ltd. Smoke Fairies. Sufjan Stevens. The Flaming Lips. The Walkmen. Ty Segall. Das Racist. Glenn Branca. Avi Buffalo. Del Rey.

Explosions in the Sky. Field Music. Garotas Suecas. Half Japanese. Wow and again I say wow! The next hour I am in raptures. Cale's voice sounds strong and forthright, not a word spoken just absolutely lush orchestrations of amazing songs. It takes till the last night to really get into the swing of the festival, the late nights, running from one end of the wide festival site to another, and feeling like the Spanish sea legs are in full working order.

Still, better late than never, and it is a great night to end the festival, with so many delightful discoveries, and audio and visual simulations. Primavera, I'm booking again for next year: here we come! Feel free to comment! If you don't have a BBC iD account, you can register here - it'll allow you to contribute to a range of BBC sites and services using a single login.

Need some assistance? Read about BBC iD , or get some help with registering. Main content. Previous Home Next. Primavera Festival Tuesday 31 May , Tagged with: Events. Primavera crowd. Photo: Inma Varandela First stop, a quick check-in to a beautiful apartment overlooking the marina of Port Vell.

Photo: Dani Canti Okay, back to the festival. If you think I'm being dramatic, check this description from John Robb: "There is some biblical thunder going on up there. Photo: Inma Varandela It's slightly weird for me to be seeing so many of the bands that had such a huge influence on me growing up; that impressionable era of leaving school, and short few years at university.

John Cale. Photo: Dani Canto Saturday. PJ Harvey. Photo: Inma Varandela It takes till the last night to really get into the swing of the festival, the late nights, running from one end of the wide festival site to another, and feeling like the Spanish sea legs are in full working order.

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