Right at the entrance to Primavera Sound Barcelona is an enormous sculpture of the Powerpuff Girls – the doe-eyed, kindergarten superheroes of Cartoon Network. Set between the futuristic concrete structures of Parc del Forum and the Mediterranean Sea, the American bobblehead sisters are an apt tribute to this year’s headliners, Charli XCX, Sabrina Carpenter, and Chappell Roan, AKA the holy pop trinity of this year’s festival season. Where Glastonbury seems forever stuck in its nostalgia mud, Primavera has always embraced the now.
First up on Friday night (strictly speaking, Saturday morning; Primavera is very much a night-time affair) is Essex pop auteur Charli XCX. “Can you believe Brat turns one this year?” she asks the crowd, referring to the internet-consuming rave record that soundtracked a presidential campaign and invented a new colour in Brat green. Technically, she’s right – “Brat Summer” may be over but tonight, it’s alive and kicking. As is Charli. Launching into the purring electronics of “365”, her performance is as brash and insouciant as her album: it’s a hedonistic party to which everyone is invited. Including Chappell Roan, who appears on the jumbo screen for the now-iconic “Apple” dance.
Tonight’s show, though, is a joint enterprise with Australian pop hero Troye Sivan, as the duo bring their much-hyped Sweat tour to Europe for the first time. People may have come for Charli, but Sivan matches her energy with a gyrating, pulse-quickening performance of his own. It’s also his birthday – an occasion marked with a big blue cake that gets brought over to him on the side of the stage. What better way to spend your 30th?
Headliner number two Sabrina Carpenter – reigning pop princess of “Espresso” fame – is let down by sound issues that mean many people further than 100m from the Revolut stage struggle to hear not only the singer’s playful innuendos but also her set, featuring for the first time ever her country-flavoured single “Manchild” – or was it “Sand Pile”? Carpenter does her best – dazzling with her Colgate smile and trademark rhinestone corset to an enthusiastic cover of Ginuwine’s “Pony” – but the set falls short of her world-conquering Short N Sweet tour.
Fortunately, the acts below headlining level are exceptional. Weeks away from the release of their fourth album, perennial cool girls Haim play the evening slot on Friday; the siblings’ multidimensional So-Cal funk-rock as apt an accompaniment to the sunset as the abundance of Aperol Spritzes held aloft by fans. New track “Relationships” rocks to a Nineties R&B groove while the jazzier palette and “doot-doo” vocals of “Summer Girl” (with extended saxophone intro) ushers in the night.
Nineties alt-icon Kim Deal enchants a Saturday afternoon crowd, while Turnstile’s breakneck 3am set is a perfect end to the day. Waxahatchee’s dusky Americana ambling hits just the right note. Dance-punk icons LCD Soundsystem are a particularly bright highlight, serenading the audience with their 2007 hit “All My Friends” as a disco ball spins overhead.
From the Isle of Wight to the Cupra Stage, Wet Leg pick up a flagging crowd – but one half of the duo is curiously missing. With lead guitarist Hester Chambers nowhere to be seen, Rhian Teasdale gamely jumps into frontwoman mode: efficient and effective in her green fishnet tights and a baby pink dye-job. The band’s deadpan wit and post-punk guitar sound is crunchier than ever, and the collective scream during “Ur Mum” feels genuinely cathartic.
Also representing the UK is rapper Central Cee – or Cench, as his fans call him. His set is a signposted hat-tip to London: Tube maps, Shepherd’s Bush, the Queen encrusted in diamonds on a chain swinging from his neck. For a man who once rapped that he’s “not performin’ if I can’t come with all of the guys”, Central Cee holds his own solo backed by only a hypeman-cum-DJ. Bookended by his two biggest hits – the cheeky “Doja” and his Lil Baby collaboration “Band4Band” – it’s the kind of set that would have a British crowd ecstatic but doesn’t quite hit the same heights overseas. He does, however, manage to conjure up a mosh pit during the 90-minute set.
Pop aesthete FKA Twigs, a superb performer, finds her meticulously planned three-act set slightly lost to the open fields of the main stage – her spare piano and synthetic burbles of “Cellophane” swallowed up by the chatter of an impatient crowd in search of a thumping bass line. Her voice, though, is astonishing as always.
Enjoy unlimited access to 100 million ad-free songs and podcasts with Amazon Music
Sign up now for a 30-day free trial. Terms apply.
Try for free
ADVERTISEMENT. If you sign up to this service we will earn commission. This revenue helps to fund journalism across The Independent.
Enjoy unlimited access to 100 million ad-free songs and podcasts with Amazon Music
Sign up now for a 30-day free trial. Terms apply.
Try for free
ADVERTISEMENT. If you sign up to this service we will earn commission. This revenue helps to fund journalism across The Independent.
A clear highlight of the weekend is Chappell Roan. You sense Roan before you see her on the Estrella Stage on Saturday night: hot pink cowboy hats multiply exponentially in the audience. The stage, which has been minimally adored for much of the three-day event, is transformed into a Gaudi-inspired medieval palace, with strange spires sprouting from the ground like mushrooms. The theatrics continue from there as Roan emerges from the wings dressed as a moth drawn to the pulsating bright lights of “Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl”. An impassioned cover of Heart’s “Barracuda” gives Roan the opportunity to go full glam rock, while sombre piano ballad “Coffee” is performed seated on a throne with a pet dragon curled up in her lap: “This is Shagella!!”
Midway through, the singer takes a moment to read aloud bad boyfriend confessions – ostensibly taken from fans – from a construction hard hat. There’s Mattieu with his poor hygiene. Penn with his sexual failings. Juan who cheated on his girlfriend with her mum. Roan uses it as a launchpad for this year’s yeehaw release, “The Giver”.
Some might argue Primavera doesn’t truly start until after the headliners finish and, for a certain subset of night owls, they’d be right. The party continues long after the main stages shut the doors, relocating to the ravey, smoke-filled stages of Trainline, Schwarzkopf (where New York’s DJ-of-the-moment The Dare brings his indie sleaze sound past 4am), and Cupra Pulse. The latter is an open-air club that you have to queue for, but the lines are effective and efficient, two adjectives that are mostly characteristic of Primavera as a whole. For such a well-thought-out event, the lack of free water stations is perhaps the sole glaring omission. Luckily, the beer is cheap enough at €5. Glastonbury could never.
