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.