- Sonar by Day: Thursday, June 15th
On the first day of Sonar I didn't arrive in Barcelona until 7 p.m, missing countless mysterious Spanish acts as well as the UK's Shit and Shine and Sweden's The Knife, so hot and playing in a room so small that hundreds of fans were left standing outside the venue. When I finally sat down in front of the stage at SonarVillage, beer in hand under the shade of a sorry-looking but cosy tree, Dutch group C-Mon and Kypski were on, making hammy hip-hop inspired noise from synths, guitars, scratches and voices. SonarDome hardly offered an improvement: DJs from the UK’s Static Caravan label looked as bland as their overplayed rare wax, all weakly spat through a sound system which was to remain problematic. Yet things picked up. Barely on my second beer and I was on my feet to some inspired bootleg pairing Iggy Pop to a B52’s melody and some other bass-slapping relic - nice indeed. This kept on for a while, I left as something Manchester spun on the decks. Back at SonarVillage the funk was on, Spain's Fatkut invisibly spinning from the side of the stage, rain heaving down in force. We boogied in a sea of enthralled dripping dancers, Fatkut hitting us with prime disco funk and Curtis Mayfield's 'Get on Up' before it morphed, uncomfortably, into slower hip-hop clunk. Within minutes he was back on fire, some delicious modern breaks-y synth-led thing and seductive uptempo R’n’B, but then it was 10 p.m, Sonar Day 1 was over and we had to leave.
Sonar by Night: Thursday, June 15th
With some dear old friends and two long nights ahead of us we opted for a night off, spending it in Bar Aurora, a fine cave-like bar with very cheap beers playing inoffensive trip-hop. Friends bought tequila which sent my memory wandering, and upon meeting up with RA staff I was persuaded to go to club Raum for the Mobilee label showcase. I recall a slack-jawed moment of befuddlement on a crowded floor, but then it’s morning, I'm in bed, clothed and my mobile phone has vanished. As has my memory.
Sonar by Day: Friday, June 16th
For a number of reasons, I found Sonar by Day the more enjoyable, if not the more rapturous. Apart from the surroundings being pleasant, the daytime weather charming and the people approachably sober, there was less hedonistic pressure to enjoy oneself. Spread around the MACBA and CCCB art museums in the northern part of Raval among record shops, hair salons, shoe stores and fashion boutiques, Mediterranean mullets and tattoos were everywhere – it’s the coolest hub of Barcelona. In normal times the area teems with skaters, beer sellers and food hawkers trading with the many spectators, and the galleries, open for viewing during the festival, are filled with strong permanent and temporary collections. There are some five formal stages along with several unauthorised areas offering additional performances. Around these are the conference areas, exhibition spaces, cinemas, record fairs, bars, food stalls, etc., and the tempting astroturf. There is also a lot of depressingly bad music.
Friday started prematurely with a ferocious hangover so a decent breakfast - espresso, beer, octopus, razor clams, and lamb stew at the Bocqueria - put us relatively right. At noon Sonar was pleasantly glowing, and after a brief stroll around the grounds we wandered into David Szczesny's set in the Red Bull Academy. From laptop and turntables slow spools of ambient grit clung to short, lonely piano loops, like Budd and Eno rubbed in tarmac, in a set which was, if undemanding, often beautiful and efficiently programmed. MwesLee replaced him on turntables, his spacious hip-hop and reduced funk an appropriate update.
Reduction of a more extreme sort was less ably delivered by Richard Chartier at SonarDome. Playing from his Brooklyn-based Line catalogue, tenuous and fragile music in the best of circumstances, it drifted away in this open arena, leaving even his thunderous bass tones untethered. At SonarVillage things were a little more pleasing, Spanish DJ D.A.R.Y.L. mixing a slew of glitchy, bass-heavy IDM, hitting a high with the audience with something from the Nathan Fake LP and ending with a far more exciting piece involving a bassline from Devo’s ‘Jocko Homo’.
The nadir of the festival was then reached with the replacement of UK's White Diet with college rock supergroup Scissor Sisters. Shirts were off and sweaty manes were twirled as frat boys, drunk jocks and giddy valley girls rocked on to FM pap that we all know too well. I left...
...to the Red Bull stage, where DJ Ana Flavia had a small but euphoric crowd jumping with a set straight out of Hoxton, swelling electrohouse merging with LCD Soundsystem and some fine conga-led minimal. We liked it so much we danced on the podium, but much as Ms. Flavia swayed and shimmied not a trace of a smile appeared beneath her sharp, angular fringe. At 5 p.m, with Scissor Sisters safely over, D.A.R.Y.L. was back on and things were good. After some mysterious 4/4 he hit it with The Field's 'Things Keep Falling Down' - I danced ecstatically, surrounded by lazy beer swillers. He slid off the rails with a shaky mix into Philip Glass before scattered busy-ness returned to spoil things.
The Scape showcase which followed had me nervously expectant. Bus opened with no-nonsense Berlin dub, fat bass, staggered rim-shots and treated flute lines ricocheting around the grotto, moving from light boom-click 4/4 to dense, aqueous Orb-like moments. It chugged at half-speed, deliciously, gaining weight with entrancing melodic developments and metallic shudder. MC Soom-T joined the picture and added further optimism to what was already a buoyant set, dipping slightly with a weak 'Rapper's Delight' moment but generally slinky and inspiring. Barbara Presinger on the wheels of steel moved through many of Scape's influences – reggae, hip-hop, jazz, Chain Reaction clang-and-echo, and did not disappoint. Pole and Band therefore had some living up to do, and initially things were limp, treble-heavy, and immobile, but they found their stride, Stefan Betke's laptop adding crucial echo and effects to loping rhythms laid down by electric bass and live drums. Then came the group of the day, Senor Coconut were the perfect daytime festival act. Humour's a rare trait in electronic music, and often an unwelcome one, but Uwe Schmidt and his debonair band blazed through their (others'?) hits, embedding 'We are the Robots' happily in my head for days. Vocalist Argenis Brito has charisma to spare and Schmidt's riotous laptop percussion solo, with horn section dancing in formation off-stage, made for a most memorable show.
Sonar by Night: Friday, June 16th
If only the night was as memorable. I foolishly blew off the Kompakt/Musik Krause night at Nitsa and was duly letdown by music that was either not my thing or just plain bad. Lead-footed hip-hop cranked out by DJ Krush at 2 a.m. wasn't going anywhere or helping anyone. Chic sounded excellent, but I watched them on the telly, unwilling to wade the hundreds of metres to the stage. Satoshi Tomiie was all expectation and gloss without substance. Laurent Garnier, with Bugge Wesseltoft's on keys and Philippe Nadaud on frantic saxophone were so bad they were wonderful, truly shocking, but how we laughed at their dire, odious cheese! I saw Sasha but couldn't tell you a thing - it was 5 a.m.
Jeff Mills performed a good, if predictably macho, run through relentless motor-city bang and hiss. His set emphasised how distinct this music is - all drums, pace and charge - from much of today's swanky 'minimal'. Herbert too, was sublime: slow, slinky R’n’B disco with voices of gold - a case also of the right place and right time, but it was intoxicating.
Sonar by Day: Saturday, June 17th
Stronger pain and unwellness called for a longer sleep, meaning I missed much of this last day. New Zealanders Fat Freddy's Drop in SonarVillage were right on, playing brash horn-filled reggae straight from it's heyday. A few other bands came and went, but I can't add much to that.
Sonar by Night: Saturday, June 17th
Having lost all my friends and with no way of contacting them, I shared a cab with three nice ladies from Essex. Wandering aimlessly around various aircraft hangars and anonymous grey factories I made friends with randoms and walked through the different rooms watching the people making music there. Goldfrapp looked like they do on the videos and their music sounded like that too - sexy, polished pop. The MFA gushed forth a solid stream of sheen and swoosh from their little boxes, over-capitalising on their 'Difference it Makes' hit – their set resemble an endless wash of shiny soup. Much of the bad press received by Miss Kittin, however, I find unduly harsh. While her music wasn't too exciting – rather hard, almost minimal, accompanied by her occasional off-key warblings – I liked her stage presence. Sure, I'd be embarrassed strutting around in a shiny blue catsuit pepped up on goofballs, fists in the air like I just don't care, but I think she carried it off, and that sort of enthusiasm from performers should be applauded. I stayed for while and danced.
2005 posterboy Isolee surely impressed all who bought 'We Are Monster' as he crammed his set with its better tracks, but it came across a little damp, like techno for indie kids. Spectral Sound fared much better. While I missed Body Code and Audion's live sets, Ryan Elliott was outstanding. Performing outdoors in the SonarPub before headliners Hawtin and Villalobos, Elliott's set functioned as a primer for today's sharp and punchy minimal sound. Elliot was relentless, and relentlessly on form, his playlist filled with the kind of fresh, unpredictable repetition found in the best of today's many Cologne-influenced labels. Highly mechanistic and frequently cluttered, it was nonetheless warm, woozy and intoxicating. Hawtin and Villalobos then came as something of an anti-climax. I can't say much about their set (I was riding the dodgems) but their opening salvos lacked the intensity and intelligence of Elliott's run.
Staggering out to greet the morning as the sun crept over the smog-filled hills was a scene from Dawn of the Dead: the crumbling surroundings of Barcelona's less-than-savoury industrial estates littered with lurching techno zombies, dreadlocked communes of wiry hippies and bands of mangy dogs, a despicable scene but one to which I'm eager to return.
MORE SONAR 2006 COVERAGE
-Whew. Two weeks later we’re fully recovered. RA takes a look back at the madness that was Sonar festival in Barcelona...MORE ››
- RA newcomer Steven Raman makes it out to Sonar by Night on both Friday and Saturday, slaking his thirst for jazzy house and finding himself converting somewhat to dirty electro... MORE ››
- Cheapskate Jeremy Armitage coughs up for Sonar by Night on Saturday where he ponders video screens, live electronics and flamenco while simultaneously trying to boogie... MORE ››