The second day of our trip starts in the morning at DayPro stage, where Matilde Diavoli has shown how much international can be an Italian artist. Her exquisite electronic set has witched the disgracefully little audience, has stressed her value and agreeably opened the day. Then, following the good memories of Thursday afternoon, we decided to come to the Martini stage and listen to another exhibition of the always-sweet Julien Baker, who seemed to appreciate the intimate atmosphere gifting again a feelingfull performance.

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In the afternoon, 4 p.m., a bunch of people entered into Parc de Forum running like desperates in order to obtain the entrances for the hidden stages. But some of them, very few, were there for another reason. At half past four, in fact, Manchester-based Shura made her appearance on Firestone stage for thirty minutes of fresh, overwhelming pop which made bearable even the afternoon’s heat wave. Then, after a strategic retirement on the press area and a quick visit to Moses Sumney at Pitchfork stage (that guy surely is good!), we took our position waiting for the arrival of fours aggressive valkyries. The Savages certainly won the award for the best stage riders thanks to their punk attitude, their audience divings and their confident and easygoing manners. They also joked with the multitude of shy, confused Radiohead fans who were there just to save a spot in front of their idols, ignoring quite everything about the other valuable players of the festival (a topic which’d deserve to be discussed, even if maybe not now).

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After the intense exhibition of those four British girls hunger won us and we choose a sandwich in place of Beirut. We knew we were committing a serious sin and, contrite as we were, we looked for redemption trying to find a good corner to enjoy Radiohead‘s upcoming show. But the God of concerts punished us anyhow, and we found ourselves far away from the stage and rounded by chatty noisy people. We tried hard, but after a Lotus Flower almost inaudible we surrendered and decided to search for better luck with Shellac and Tortoise. The firsts were in great shape, with a Steve Albini unchained and particularly talkative, the seconds masterful and engaging.

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Finally, after a quick stop to relish some American Collective on their colorful, enthusiastic show, we went under the Heineken stage waiting for the arrival of Victoria Legrand. And we standed a lot, since the exhibition started with a big delay due to some difficulties in dismantling Radiohead’s huge apparatus. But Beach House deserved that wait, and gave us a setlist full of highlights from their previous works, as Take Care from Teen Dream, or Myth and Whishes from Bloom. The new tracks sounded good too, and everything melted sweetly under the delicate lights of their stage set and the quiet blue of the night. Our only regret has been the lack of Norway, probably their best track ever, but life is long and there’ll be other occasions. After such a dreamy experience, we believed there was no reason to stay more and we quietly come back home by foot to rest and get ready for the last part of our adventure.

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All photos by Eric Pamies and Jake Cunningham, courtesy of Primavera Sound Festival.