A Personal Narrative of My Experience as a First Time Attendee
I first stumbled upon the entity that is Primavera Sound by chance last October.
The Irish rap group Kneecap had just announced the cancellation of their U.S. tour, leaving thousands of ticket holders devastated.
With a refusal to accept the news, I promptly began sifting through the group’s updated schedule before pausing abruptly on a festival performance listed for June 6 in Spain. Naturally, I delved into what the show entailed and was absolutely floored to come across the following set list:
The more names I read, the more my brain began to melt. The Cure, Bad Gyal, Gorillaz—all performing at the same site as Kneecap? How in the hell had I never heard of this festival?
Perhaps I can ascribe my ignorance to some sort of subconscious American narcissism—or perhaps my lack of awareness can be attributed to the sheer size of the United States itself. Festivals like Coachella, Summerfest and Lollapalooza are well known to music fans in the U.S. and are equally well attended. Most people with any access to social media know exactly when Coachella season arrives, because their feed is flooded with ultra-curated “fit-check” posts, exorbitant spending on accommodations, as well as passionate debates regarding performances.
Setting my ignorance aside, I began piecing together what a trip to Spain would entail: flights, hotels, spending—the works. While seeking international entertainment hadn’t quite dawned on me before, I did note the comparable flight duration from NYC→Barcelona, versus NYC→Coachella. It takes only 1 hour longer to get to Barcelona than it does to get to Palm Springs, CA. Do with that information what you will.
Needless to say, the first thing I did was text my best friend, Gilly. In true carpe diem fashion, I not-so-subtly pitched the idea of attending:
Upon further research, I discovered that tickets would be going on sale the very next day. Thus, the motivation to see this through felt not only necessary but fated. Of course, with Gilly having just graduated from college and in pursuit of a full-time job, she raised all of the financial and logistical concerns that I then did my best to minimize.
Consequently, I bought two general admission one-day tickets (€125 each) for Saturday, June 6th. I equipped myself with an answer to every concern Gilly might have had, sure to rationalize any inconsistencies in my plan. I figured that if it didn’t work out, I could always sell them.
Looking back, I consider it my finest impulse purchase to date. With the tickets secured, we now had eight months to save and tie up any loose ends—a key selling point of my pitch. Not long afterward, Gilly acquired her now full-time position, making her interviewer privy to the “prior arrangement” she would have for the first week of June. As the months passed, we put together a loose budget plan and tucked away any extra cash we could manage.
Having the trip on our calendar and an incentivized financial goal to work towards made the fruits of our labor that much sweeter this summer.
While those eight months inevitably came to pass, what struck me the most was the unfamiliarity of Primavera Sound’s existence to those around me. Seemingly everyone I asked, had never heard of this festival – not my peers, not my family abroad, and not even my coworkers originally from the European Union—all of whom are tapped into the music scene. With Primavera drawing close to 300,000 attendees over the course of three days, there was clearly a huge informational gap.
In attempts to bridge this gap, the Reddit community r/primaverasound became one of my close companions in preparation and otherwise.
Still thinking with a “U.S. mindset,” one of my initial and primary concerns was: What kind of outfit should I wear?
To my surprise, I was greatly humbled to see many veteran attendees commenting sentiments like: ‘Primavera isn’t a fashion show, wear comfortable shoes’, and more spiteful commentary like: ‘this isn’t Coachella, no one cares what you’re wearing’.
Considering the festival’s origin—the reaction from O.G.s makes complete sense. Founded in 2001 with a mere 7,000 attendees, Primavera Sound was a “music-first” festival, centered around showcasing lesser-known indie and Spanish artists. Over the past two decades as the festival’s attendance has exploded, so has the notoriety of its headliners. Even so, Primavera continues to do an admirable job at giving underground and indie artists breakout performance opportunities, while remaining true to its core mission: to unite people through live music.
I am happy to report that Primavera is very much succeeding in that mission.
I should mention that an important last-minute amendment to our trip was made when my equally last-minute application for a press pass was accepted. In accordance with this wonderful publication, I was able to secure two press access badges, giving Gilly and me full three-day access to the festival to meet artists, curiously explore its atmosphere, and network with other creatives. I will be forever grateful for this aspect of the experience and the memories that came with it.
Gilly and I flew from John F. Kennedy Airport to Dublin first, spending a few days in Ireland before taking a flight from Dublin to Barcelona El Prat Airport. While I never had the (dis)pleasure of flying Spirit Airlines before its abrupt shutdown, RyanAir gave me the ability to imagine what that experience might have been like. It was bare bones, no frills and honestly perfectly fine for what was only a 2 1/2 hour flight.
We arrived shortly before midnight on June 3. Clearing Spanish customs was a breeze, if not a bit intimidating, as I imagine workers already had a bit of tourist fatigue well before the plane of restless young people arrived. It was evident that many of the passengers would be with us at the Parc del Fòrum in just a matter of hours.
Cabs were lined up outside of the baggage claim exit, and our hotel was less than a 20 minute ride from the airport, just outside of La Plaça de Catalunya. We were conscious to anchor our accommodation near the Plaça because Primavera coordinates a recurring shuttle bus directly to and from the festival’s venue for only €3. Gilly and I settled into our room, reviewed our itinerary for the next day, and went to sleep in avid anticipation.
We were surprised to learn how culturally late social and communal happenings tend to occur in Spain; an effect produced by the combination of post-WWII time zone changes, Mediterranean daylight/climate instances, as well as its jornada partida (split workday). Scheduled showtimes were released only days prior to our arrival, with the earliest set beginning at 6 p.m., and the “sunrise set” ending festivities around 6 a.m. We were happy to adopt the nocturnal sleeping pattern for what laid ahead.
Because there wasn’t any rush in getting to the venue, we slept in and recouped our energy for the long night ahead. When we woke up, we blasted a Spotify playlist featuring all of the Day 1 performers’ songs while we got ready. We then decided to take the metro so we could pass by the newly finished Basilica of the Sagrada Familia. Amid the somewhat gloomy weather, the five-minute walk was well worth the following view:
We took the L4 Metro for about 20 minutes, and similarly to our flight over, we could tell exactly who in the train cars was headed to the same place as us. Still blocks away from our destination, coming up from the metro stairs we were hit with distant cheers and reverberating basses, involuntarily hastening our pace towards the venue. Gilly and I smiled briefly at one another, and with no words spoken, were thinking the same thing: We did it. We’re here.
As I took my first of what would be many steps within the Parc del Fòrum, Primavera’s roughly 50-acre venue, I was met with a sea of vibrant and animated people. It was a welcomed overstimulation of the senses; I saw people of all cultures and ethnicities adorned in equally diverse clothing, I heard fragments of languages I didn’t recognize, and the air was perfumed with intoxicatingly rich spices, of which one couldn’t help but be glad to taste. Cultural and linguistic differences be what they may, it was more than clear that the energy we had just stepped into transcended all language barriers that might otherwise exist.
With bright eyes and no sense of urgency, we looked around in amazement. We took our time finding the route to the Revolut stage, where Blood Orange’s 6:00 p.m. performance was scheduled. Singer Dev Hynes delivered in his usual emotionally evocative style, which was a beautiful genesis for us as first-time attendees.
At the same time, this is also where cultural diffusion and social engagement became exceedingly evident to us. Contrary to some of the Redditors’ advice, many did dress to impress. With that being said, a notable difference was that it wasn’t necessarily to impress the online world. Frankly, I saw very few people on their phones unless it was against their ear, no doubt in an effort to locate friends.
Taking into account the multitude of various media outlets and content creators working, the use of technology was not remarkably visible
Of course, the quick snap of a photo here or there was seen, but there wasn’t a prolonged amount of time spent with the phone thereafter. In my experience, especially in somewhere like New York City, if you watch someone take a photo, their gaze then remains fixed on their phone—wasting no time to post it “in real time” to their socials.
When it comes to concerts, some will experience the entirety of it through their camera lens. This was not the case for Primavera. It was absolutely gratifying to look out to an audience and witness dancing, laughing and open hands raised in the air—not a sea of phones.
Not only did people not have their heads down, but almost everyone we interacted with welcomed conversation. Whether it was who stood near us during a set, who we met in line for beers, or who we sat next to while eating food—I have since been welcomed and urged to visit the likes of Singapore, Ghana, Belarus, Argentina and Germany.
Folks were happy enough to talk and form connections, but as was reported during Ethel Cain’s set, be prepared to be accosted and audibly shushed should your discussion interfere with fans’ ability to enjoy an artist.
Something that did exactly that, was the unfortunate weather that occurred towards the end of the first day. While the lack of sun was not ideal, as the night went on several concerningly dark clouds made themselves distinct. We had kept an eye on the weather app, hoping for the best but still realistic enough to come prepared with ponchos.
Several stages and performances later, we made our way over to see Men I Trust at the Cupra Stage.
Shortly upon arrival, those clouds made good on our suspicion of them. While we found it rather fitting to listen to the band’s song: “Show Me How”, standing in the rain, our personal enthusiasm was not shared on a widespread scale.
During the band’s set, the wind began picking up and artists were rushed off stage—delaying all impending performances. We navigated ourselves back to the Press Lounge Area to get our bearings, with the following message displayed on all of the screens in our line of sight:
“Due to adverse weather conditions, performances on this stage have been temporarily suspended. Please remain calm and follow the instructions of the festival’s security and staff teams. Stay tuned to the festival screens and official channels for further updates. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Security and staff began directing attendees, roping off the general admission standing areas, and forcing people to stand in the adverse weather conditions. Many remained eager and optimistic—ready to weather the literal storm. After about 30 minutes, Gilly and I thought it best to simply leave, because to us, the lack of communication translated as a lack of how to proceed. Our location at the time was at least a 20-minute walk away from the exit, and we wanted to get a head start on what could very well be tens of thousands of people rushing to leave as well.
The weather ultimately led to the cancellation of headliners Doja Cat, Bad Gyal, Mac DeMarco, Alex G, and Massive Attack—making us glad to have followed our intuition. There was an overflow of public outcry on social media that night, with many demanding refunds for the poor planning and lack of communication regarding protocols.
Doja Cat took to Instagram live in tears, sharing in her fans’ disappointment in the cancellation. Unfortunately, artists on tour tend to operate on strict schedules, oftentimes having to be in a different country the next day.
The communication of events could have been handled in a less convoluted way. Perhaps a perpetual “check back in [x amount of minutes] for additional information”, would have allowed attendees more agency in deciding whether to stay or go.
Though it was indeed a bittersweet end to the first day, there comes a certain point of standing in the rain where you shrug your shoulders, laugh, and accept your fate. Gilly and I chose to do exactly that, leaving with yet another unforgettable memory. At the very least, I avoided getting sunburned!
The days that followed turned around for the better, almost as if nature was offering an apology. Many friend groups seemed to prefer spreading out on blankets far off from front-stage to hang out, enjoy the music, and soak up the sun.
The performance by NewDad under the newly revealed sun was an especially sentimental show for us. Firstly because we are big fans, and secondly because we would be interviewing them immediately thereafter. The entire interview process with singer Julie Dawson and guitarist Sean O’Dowd was nothing short of a delight. Riding the high from such an awesome opportunity, Gilly and I remained upbeat, sociable, and musically curious for the remainder of our time.
The majority of the audiences we encountered were for lack of a better phrase, chill. Despite bigger artists like The Cure, Gorillaz, or even with Olivia Rodrigo’s surprise set—where Gilly and I were, there was no noticeable pushing or shoving for a better view, and an overall respect for others’ personal space.
June 6, and day three, was originally intended to be the only day that we would attend, centered around Kneecap’s performance. As mentioned, our lack of familiarity with the timing of things led to what I can only call a hilariously tragic ending to our adventure.
Kneecap’s set time was scheduled for 3:00 a.m., and we had a flight to catch at 5:45 a.m. There was simply no way we’d be able to see them, and we had no flexibility to miss this flight.
I had come to terms with this in the days preceding but admittedly, I still held out hope. While getting to see them would have been a poetic and full-circle finish, I think not getting to see them allowed me to fully repurpose the meaning of this journey.
I am certain that I would be able to sit and write an individual piece about each performance we witnessed, but I am also certain that the quality of art speaks for itself from the lineup alone.
By no means is this an attempt to review music or specific artists, but rather the aggregate affair of Primavera Sound as a whole from my perspective. When it comes to the notion of a festival, my hypothesis is that many Americans have a particular impression of what that looks like, drawing from the limited domestic examples available. Such an impression may bring disinterest, apathy, and a desire for something with more substance.
Primavera Sound gifted me the delight of wonderful music, people and memories. Above all and most importantly, it has unearthed a world that I had pensively thought vanished long ago. I learned with utmost certainty that meeting like-minded people with congenial values regarding art, music, and human connectivity——sometimes require you to go beyond borders.
The Envoy 
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