It’s Saturday night and I’m stood in The Hug and Pint watching the exquisite Living Body as the news starts to roll in about Playground Festival. Lauryn Hill is over an hour late for her set, there’s a 45 minute queue at the bar, and the rain has turned Rouken Glen in to a mudslide. I feel the promoter’s despair as the reputation of their new festival sours. I can only sympathise and hope that their carefully-curated third day would not be met with the same fate.Read More
I hit the runway at Barcelona-El Prat a little after 9:30pm Wednesday evening. As I prevail another Ryanair flight I silently thank the universe. I sit among a crush of likely festival-goers, each overcoming the haze of pre-flight Amstel. The evening’s outcomes would be two-fold, the memory of a beautiful sunset viewed from the terrace of an Airbnb, and a hangover I would carry with me for seven more days. Tomorrow is the first day of Primavera Sound.Read More
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