Nick Cave, king of the darkest night of Primavera Sound

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And on the third day, darkness fell.

Primavera Sound yesterday experienced a day of music that was not exactly happy after two days that moved between chaos and

, Rigoberta Bandini through, on Friday night.

On Saturday, the tone was different.

More introspective,

, less festival.

Bringing together Bauhaus, Napalm Death and Einstürzende Neubauten on the same day is what it has.

But the protagonist was another.

It was not even six in the evening and the name of Nick Cave was already sneaking into most of the conversations among the attendees.

Almost everyone assumed that the Australian would cancel his performance at the festival after the news of

Jethro Cave, 31, less than a month ago, on May 9.

The 64-year-old artist himself was then in charge of communicating the death of his eldest son, with whom he did not have a relationship until Jethro was seven years old.

Another episode is added to the fateful news: in 2015, another Cave son (Arthur, Earl's twin, both 15 years old at the time) also died after falling off one of the Brighton cliffs under the influence of LSD.

How do you go out and sing in front of tens of thousands of people after something like that?

Cave has always been surrounded by a certain

and he himself has been in charge of taking care of it.

Cave is a bit like a priest and attending his concerts has something of a pagan ceremony.

He came on stage like a thunderclap, with that steamroller that is

, touching the arms of fans in the front row and followed with the thunderous

unleashed,

the air, backed by a cash gospel choir confirming that yes, we were at mass.

Hyperactive, running from end to end of the stage, the first moment of repose came at the piano with

.

"O, children / Forgive us now for what we've done."

Next to him, his faithful squire

.

Then he sat down at the piano and became introspective, with exceptions like the much celebrated

, which even started some dancing.

Cave was not particularly talkative between songs, but he ended with

, one of the songs from his latest album,

, a treatise on how

and turn it into art whose verses (

) speak for themselves. .

Little more to add.

Cave in a cathartic moment of the concert.SERGIO ALBERTPRIMAVERA SOUND

The afternoon had begun with the

of the Catalan Ferran Palau, who kicked off his concert with Kevin and Univers, two good doses of metaphysics for

with an enveloping and apparently inoffensive electronic base in the background.

Palau is a superb lyricist: he has a special gift for moving from the light to the tattooable without batting an eyelid and this is evident in songs like the much-applauded

His calm rhythms were the perfect starting point for an afternoon in which he could also listen to the dark and somewhat messianic pop of Low, one of those

who have a fixed position and preferential treatment in the Primavera.

The group, led by married couple Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker (members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) released part of their recent new album,

.

Ferran Palau in his concert on Saturday afternoon at Primavera Sound.STAR KIMBERLEY ROSSPRIMAVERA SOUND

Another of the groups that receives royal highness treatment at the Fòrum is Einstürzende Neubauten, synonymous with that

and not suitable for worldly palates (of the

school , come on).

There was some anticipation to see their leader, Blixa Bargeld, perform on the same stage as Cave hours earlier.

The Berliner was part of Cave's band, The Bad Seeds, in the group's most barbaric era and abruptly said goodbye (by

) although the two made peace later.

Blixa Bargeld in full concert of Einstürzende Neubauten.SERGIO ALBERTPRIMAVERA SOUND

In black from head to toe, barefoot, and

-esque silver glitter in his eyes , Bargeld began the concert in

mode .

After a couple of hypnotic songs in

mode and a couple of jokes about covid and how catastrophic the world has always been, he started the hard part.

“Someday there will be only grass on this city,” he would sing while making noises with what looked like an 80s transistor.

Then came the anti-aircraft sirens, the guttural sounds, the

made music.

Even the screens broadcasting the concert were dyed a sepulchral black and white as Bargeld's voice, which seemed to pray to the coming of the

, prevailed over a knife-sharpening screech.

Hard drug, ideal for hangovers.

The only thing missing was a sacrificial altar to finish invoking the darkness that reigned at the end of the festival of this first part of the festival.

Luckily we have

left .

Meanwhile, a middle-aged white male with existential problems, it was a relief to enjoy

, who delighted the large English public (the Fòrum becomes a county-appendix of the United Kingdom during the festival).

At just 24 years old, Smith has poise and class to dish out.

Her contagious

and her enjoyment grew in intensity until she went wild with

A ray of light in the middle of the storm.

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