The Spanish lad in front of me suggests that maybe it is the emotion. Could be, or perhaps it is the booze, drugs, or the wet, cold, and nasty weather. Fact is, two rather large blokes faint right in front of us in a timespan of about five minutes. We are at the rather brilliant gig of the long dormant Slowdive however, so who knows whether or not the Spaniard was right (though I’m not sure people actually faint because of music aside from the church choir).

This all happens hours after John Grant, who plays on one of the main stages that day, has managed to summon rain, rain, and then some more of that, his sunglasses an apparent disguise that masks his true intentions. Supported by about five other guys Grant works his way through a set that combines songs from his debut album with that of his more recent Pale Green Ghosts. So on one hand you’ve got songs like ‘GMF’, ‘It Doesn’t Matter To Him’, and others where he really needs the big band, and on the other hand his older work seems to require less assistance. That is, up until the finale of ‘Queen of Denmark’, where they go all out with sudden big bangs to support his outcry of why the heck this guy doesn’t take it out on somebody else.

Queue run towards home, a shower, change of clothes, after which I find myself wrapping my shoes in toilet paper to save whatever is to be saved of these suede covered sneakers (well that was dumb, wasn’t it? In my defense, when I checked that afternoon, that shower wasn’t predicted. I still believe, in that case, the rain doesn’t really count).

And then back in time for Slowdive.

Slowdive is a shoegaze band that made three albums in the 90s, and since haven’t really been heard from. Our loss, apparently, because they are definitely multiple shades of brilliance. The soundscapes they create are magnificent, and both the male and female vocals are deliciously dreamy and such a perfect accompaniment to the sounds they create. They actually have to cut a song because they have run over, for which they excuse themselves and shyly say that they “Haven’t done this for a while”. All is forgiven by the time ‘Golden Hair’ rolls around to end what must be one of the surefire highlights of the festival.

The most amazing moments are the ones where they build up that whole wall of guitar, and then through that dark haze project this shimmer of light courtesy of the second guitar player on stage (not to mention that sometimes they have three guitars out there, not even counting the bass). Those moments are amazing. To me, it is the ultimate proof of how expertly they have crafted their songs. So yeah, maybe those two guys did faint because of all this, though still, I seriously doubt it.

On the same stage it's The National’s turn to shine about two hours later. These guys have become massive in recent years, Boxer pole vaulted them from (relative) obscurity to critically acclaimed niche rockers, with the two albums since seeing them skyrocket to stardom. As such, there's lots of folk in attendance, and though people like to label them as gloomy bastards, here, today, they are bona fide rockstars. The pandemonium that takes place during the last string of songs, as Matt Berninger starts to run around everywhere to absolutely nowhere, is something today’s A-list rock/punk bands would certainly sign up for.

Going to The National is kind of like opening a booster pack of a card collecting game. You’ve got your commons (singles ranging from Boxer up to the new Trouble Will Find Me), but you’ve also got some uncommons and rares in there that do not always appear in the set. Given their rise in popularity in recent years they give the audience a healthy dose of work from their latest LP, though for me there is nothing quite like ‘Squalor Victoria’ or other “older” material. They really vamped that one up for the live shows, with a huge finale which starts after Berninger pathetically (in a good, theater way) delivers lines like “Out of my league, I’ve got birds in my sleeves, and I wanna rush in with the fools”. Those vignettes, those captured moments of the tragic everyman hero, those are the ones that hit home.

One of my favorite tracks is the “uncommon” ‘About Today’, a song from their Wasp Nest EP that they play live on occasion, though never when I’m around. My hopes of hearing that one live have faded and faded as, with more and more songs to their back catalogue, statistically I wasn’t doing so hot anymore. And then, suddenly, they start to play those guitar chords, and that was such a thrill right there. Talking about moments captured, that verse of “hey, are you awake?” is brilliantly small, tragic, and heartfelt in all its insecurity and angst. After that, the band invites members of The Walkmen on the stage (Justin Vernon already got invited on earlier) to go big in the finale, with the heavy hitters ‘Mr. November’ and ‘Terrible Love’. That ending sees both the fans as well as Berninger scream and shout it all out. Not just for gloomy people who are curled up in the corners of their minds anymore, I think.

The Pitchfork stage has been running late the whole day, and even with the hard work of all involved, it’s still about fifteen minutes behind schedule that the trio of Factory Floor appear on stage. They slide in the beats effortlessly, though it is a more adventurous form of “dance” music then you normally get. The beat and drums allow you to dance, but the noise and all kinds of other additions (like guitar and distorted vocals) are all very much ingrained into the sound. There are moments that you’d wish they would transition to the next phase a tad faster, sometimes meandering a bit in their own noisy soundscapes. Though as closing band (the talented dj/musician Pional will take the stage after) they seem to fit nicely on this strange, eventful, and rocky day that certainly wouldn’t have been done justice by a “cleaner” party band.

After the rain, inevitably, comes the sun (little darlin’), and so on the second day of Primavera Sound in Barcelona we can actually see things like the impressive view one has from the festival site. In the sunshine it is all quite breathtaking, especially from the top of the staircase that leads you to the Vice and Pitchfork stages.

On that Pitchfork stage Glasser struts her stuff. She released her second album, named Interiors, last year, but live she mixes it up with older material as well. The stage is almost bare. There’s a guy behind a laptop, and then there’s Cameron Mesirow, who looks as intriguing as she sounds. On stage she is at times seductive, at times skipping about as if in a bad Mozart comedy (including la-la lines), and at times theatrical. Which is a good thing, for she is the only thing on stage to look at, and one does so willingly.

She is basically as intriguing as her music. At times there is a little beat to dance to, but more often are the completely divergent soundscapes that range from the interesting to, sometimes perhaps a bit estranging. Nonetheless, with Cameron at the helm, there is always something to it. Very impressive is the control she has over her voice. From almost operatic interludes to genuine emotional singing, there’s a command in her vocals that cannot be denied.

On the same stage, Majical Cloudz is up a bit later, and that, too, is an interesting act. The stage is just as bare as with Glasser moments earlier, with Devon Welsh at the center and Matthew Otto behind all the electro gadgetry at the side. Where Glasser commanded the stage by doing, Welsh does this by not doing, and, in that, magnifying the nakedness and vulnerability of it all. Otto doesn’t come with beats or the like, but he almost mimics the vocals of Welsh, and together they form a unity with just that one thing to focus on. The songs lay bare the troubles of his mind, which fits in perfectly with the minimal form of the act.

How “honest” and “naked” Majical Cloudz is, how purposely theatrical and artificial St. Vincent performs. The act she has crafted seems like the Rise and Fall of the Bionic Woman. Her motions are android like, and while being Mrs. Roboto she still manages to hit all the notes with an almost automatic precision. Her performance is close to a stage show, and not because of all kinds of antics and extra characters on the podium, but because she convincingly plays the part she herself has written for no one but her.

Between all the “acting” there is not much that is lost in terms of musical performance. Her singing is inch perfect, and her guitar playing shows she is definitely a musician, not just a stage artist. The new songs sound incredibly powerful, with ‘Digital Witness’ being the second thing she plays. This is a woman who is really making a statement. Her album received great acclaim, her musical ability live is impeccable, and the stage act she has built around all her talents makes for a great performance. She has really become an artist, and one who has shown to belong on the greater stages at that.

Arcade Fire close out the Sony main stage, and if you want to actually see them you have to be there early. People are queuing up from the very moment St. Vincent finishes her set, which means there’s a 1 1/2 hour waiting period for this lot. And apparently, waiting and wanting to see a band you get emotional about equals frustration on some parts, with people trying to get as good a position as they possibly can. So annoyance a plenty here (though the impromptu ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ sing-a-long by some of those waiting is a welcome diversion to all that). Luckily, when the music starts, everything else is long gone and forgotten.

So suddenly, instead of frustration, there seems to be only sheer joy on people’s faces. From young, lanky boys singing along passionately with every word to big bearded blokes doing “oe-oe” chorus lines in as good a high pitched voice as they can manage. And the girl behind them is smiling -- and not annoyed -- when the aforementioned boys start jumping up and down to some of the more indie rock songs, and probably land on her toes at least a couple of times whilst doing so. Good vibes are suddenly all around. And Arcade Fire are the cause of all this.

The band start their show with some of the deliciously catchy songs off of their new album, such as ‘Reflektor’, which gets everyone in either a dancing or a jumping mood. Both the start and the end feature some tracks off of their most recent album, with ‘Be Exist’ positioned somewhere in the middle. And though the outfits scream “disco” (and those things are certainly screaming in every other way as well), the middle of the set has a lot of indie rock from Funeral and Neon Bible to it as well.

They not only treat the audience to some good music, but the robotic sculpture a bit off from the stage, the people with the big heads that at one point come walking on the stage, and the confetti at the end: they certainly want to give away a good show out there. The euphoria at the end (when the confetti comes down) certainly is indicative of how this band manage to touch all these people standing on this massive field. There are people dancing, jumping, singing, and emotionally responding to what certainly has to be a rightful headliner this festival.

Julio Bashmore certainly has a bit more trouble getting such a good response, at least at the start of his set. Not really his fault, mind you, but the late start due to technical difficulties in combination with the lingering effects of said difficulties make it, well, difficult for him to get out of the gates. Due to the time slot we make the executive decision to not see him undoubtedly redeem himself, but get some shut eye for the upcoming days of the festival.

There is something about putting on a festival in Barcelona around the end of May that sounds like a good idea, isn’t there? You’re thinking sun, beaches, and one of the most famous cities in the world.

So I wake up (way too early), leave the house (a tad too late), and get on a train (lets just say that one didn’t run on time either); and all of that with rain pouring down. But, I’m going to Barcelona, so bye bye little wet country of mine and hello Primavera Sound!

About that...

The Wednesday isn’t part of the “real” festival, which runs from Thursday to Saturday. So I suppose we could’ve said, You know what, we’ll skip the whole thing. Music lovers ey, we don’t do that. So we get soaking wet instead.

Not before a scanner reads our ticket as “invalid”, by the way, and so we queue up with the rest of the alleged criminals. Though the girl with the scanner is really nice about it and says “you need to go over there, they will help”, reading the Spanish equivalent of “invalid ticket” does scare the heck out of you.

This is the time that it starts to rain, by the way.

The girl is right though, they are indeed there to help, and all are indeed really nice about it. And when we get our wristbands, the downpour begins. So we run out of the queue-- one of us was smart enough to bring a poncho and one wasn’t (guess who...)-- and we get acquainted with the coat room rather well, though not for any purpose they had ever imagined it would be used for.

By this time the organization is forced to push back everything about 30 minutes, because the rain is going all out. Stromae, the first act of the day, has to start a bit later, but at least he’s granted the only dry set of the night. This young man from Belgium, performing with backing band who are all dressed in the same attire, sings in French, and delivers an eclectic brand of electronic stadium music with big bass beats and the like. Sometimes he slows it down, sometimes he goes into straightforward party mode, and sometimes he throws in some more dubstep inspired sounds.

The variety is there, though the music is not the main appeal here. In my country Stromae already plays the big stadiums, and this live set sounds like it, with not much left in terms of nuance. However, one cannot help but be mesmerized by the young man himself, 29-year-old Paul van Haver. This wiry lad leaves it all out there, from dramatic looks to modern (and classical) dance moves, to sometimes just bouncing around to get the crowd fired up: he is a marvel to look at. He is always worth paying attention to, if not for those dance moves, then surely for just his charismatic presence. Some of the songs do have heart and are fabulously theatrical (or made theatrical by van Haver), and even if it’s not really your cup of tea overall, it’s the performance that makes the visit more than worthwhile.

Now that Stromae is over, the weather Gods have, in their infinite wisdom, decided to make some rain again. So we move over to get our bodies heated up a bit with some hot cocoa, skipping Sky Ferreira, and we go back to the ATP stage by the time Holy Ghost! are ready to play live. Last year they released the magnificent Dynamics, and it seems they haven’t only improved their studio output either. When I saw them a couple of years ago, when they were still pretty “green” in terms of being Holy Ghost!, they sounded a bit thin, a bit tepid. Not so much this time.

The boys really have stepped up their live performance, and they’ve got the tunes to match as well, making it a dance-a-thon for anyone who is interested (and the Americans next to me sure are). ‘Dumb Disco Ideas’ is the ultimate track to throw in there, as it is probably the thing most resembling an all-out dancefloor filler. However, the older work has been spruced up a bit as well, and they seem to now know how to play these live, making them not just cardboard copies of the album versions. Lots of cheerful faces amongst those that have persevered, because during this set it only stops raining for a brief moment.

There is one lucky bit about being in Barcelona though, and that is that when the evening is done and you’re all soaking wet, if you have at least spent a couple of pennies, you return to somewhere dry, indoors, with a mattress, and a shower to warm you up again. Sun and beach fun it ain’t, but it’s not a soggy tent either.

For the second night running we find ourselves in the cavernous building that is Warehouse 34. This time, with completely different expectations, we arrive part way through Deathcrush’s set, an unknown prospect to us before this evening.

There seems to be an excessive amount of theatrics to cover a lack of musical talent. However, don’t get us wrong Deathcrush serve their purpose in warming up the crowd, but they’re just not to our taste. The simplistic tracks are relatively accessible but lack a great deal of musical talent.

White Denim, opening up with the awesomely trippy ‘Pretty Green,’ from new album Corsicana Lemonade proves a perfect start. They set the precedent with their high quality upbeat tracks early on, with title track ‘Corsicana Lemonade’ having a great Southern vibe that the crowd can’t help but dance to.

The band seem to hop around a variety of genres at first, ‘River To Consider’ providing another facet to this evening's set with a real Latin feel. To think that these are only first three songs and we’ve already covered a lot of musical ground in what can only be ten minutes is pretty impressive but having said that the band settles into their groove after this.

Playing tracks from across their back catalogue, those from the two latter albums D and Corsicana Lemonade are relied upon heavily. However, tracks like ‘I Start To Run’ still provoke huge crowd reaction. Fortunately the band haven’t deviated too far away from their original sound, and if anything, have just become consistently better.

The progression shows throughout the both the set and the band's sound as they blend tracks from Fits and Corsicana Lemonade. Those from the latter have a much crisper quality that really stands out, ‘At Night In Dreams’ is a true exponent of the bands growth. It not only provokes a massive crowd reaction, it also sounds amazing when put up against those earlier tracks that surround it in tonight’s set, making them look amateurish whilst ‘Drug’ is still a phenomenal track and live it really stands out.

White Denim cover an amazing amount of the musical landscape in a real short space of time. It’s a true pleasure to see a band with such a plethora of tracks of varying aesthetics, as opposed to just sticking to one monotonous sound. And this evening has proved yet again that this warehouse is an awesome place for phenomenal live music.

You can view more of Lee's work and follow him on Flickr here.