A sun-soaked, glitter-smudged pilgrimage through pop chaos, tender comedowns and the unrelenting joy of live music.

Acclaimed for its diverse line-up over the past 25 odd years, Primavera Sound has been at the forefront of cramming as many acts (that you can brag about) as physically possible into a weekend. Championing the idea of scrambling from one genre to the next within a ten minute window. This year, the gravitational pull comes from the pop girlies to the hard core with crumbs of indie and a tiny sprinkle of hip-hop in between.

This weekend felt like a real turning point for the festival, a full embrace of pop music and, arguably, the hottest ticket of 2025. On entry we were greeted by statues of the Powerpuff Girls (yes, Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup), a charmingly camp touch. No one paid them much attention on the first day, but by Sunday the queue for selfies with the holy trinity was genuinely impressive.

Primavera Sound Day One (Buttercup):

First up was Beabadoobee, a gentle start to the chaos. Her set was dreamy and light, the kind of breezy performance that felt like a cold towel on a very sweaty forehead, the sun was doing numbers already and just getting to the main stage was a mission. After that, we attempted to catch Fcukers' DJ set at Cupra Pulse, but the queue was biblical. Instead, we pivoted to the Schwarzkopf stage to see Nourished By Time. In the middle of the crowd, we bumped into some friends (who were coming up on acid) and we all let ourselves melt into the music. Nourished By Time was effortlessly cool. Performing against a glowing early evening backdrop, he delivered a set that balanced smooth R&B vocals with glitched-out pop production, full of emotional swells and groove-heavy beats. His presence was cool and unfussy, yet magnetic, drawing the crowd in with subtle charisma and gently euphoric energy. It was the kind of performance that didn’t demand your attention, but held it completely.

Afterwards, our group splintered. Some of us set off to secure spots for FKA Twigs, while others were getting psyched up to see Magdalena Bay. Probably the worst clash in Primavera history, won’t somebody please think of the gays!

But before either of those, a few of us stumbled into Snow Strippers, who ended up being a surprise highlight from the weekend. Their set felt like Charli XCX’s Vroom Vroom-era sound filtered through punky basement rave energy. Tatiana Schwaninger was a force on stage, while Graham Perez pummelled the crowd with warped beats. The stage wasn’t too full, just perfectly sweaty and dance-happy, with energy to burn this early in the festival.

Magdalena Bay

Trying to find friends mid-set was a mistake. The disjointed search definitely distracted from the experience, but Magdalena Bay were faultless. Playing their immaculate 2024 album Imaginal Disk (Still Listening’s AOTY, naturally) front to back, they turned the stage into a synth-pop dreamscape. Highlights included the heart-swell of ‘Vampire in a Corner’, the ABBA-channeling bounce of ‘Cry For Me’, the fuzzed out immediacy of ‘That’s My Floor’ and the gooey closer ‘The Ballad of Matt and Mica’, the whole crowd yelling “Bang-bang and a happy ending!” into the night.

Jules Detour: IDLES

In an attempt to see what all the insufferable fuss is about, a gamble was taken to watch Bristolian band Idles on the Revolut stage. The sun begins to set over the bustle. Opening with ‘Colossus,’ the heavy bass gristles, front man Joe Talbot, hunches over as if he’s shit himself whilst delivering the lyrics. He parts the crowd for ‘Gift Horse,’ they blindly oblige. The band race through the track, guitarist Lee Kiernan leaps into the crowd. Talbot intermittently puffs his chest and holds middle finger to the sky towards a God he will never be. Look at it go. We sprint through the rest of the set, the musicianship as frenetic as the crowd. A small pit tornadoes around the front of the stage. Free Palestine chants echo back briefly through the audience. Guitarists Keirnan and Bowen are now in the eye of the storm as people simultaneously stomp and stream insta stories in a tightening circle around them for ‘Benzocaine.’ In address towards the end of the set, Talbot loops the mic wire over his shoulder, the next track is a call to celebrate migrants, “It’s dedicated to the people of Palestine…This is for the people of Primavera Festival…And it’s for me,” the words lose meaning, self-indulgence prevails.

Jules Detour: FKA Twigs

"Would she be here…A story of the soundcheck was posted just this morning…There’s still time for a no show…” Theories ripple back through the moonlit crowd. Justifiable though, previous Primavera appearance cancellations, a visa issue that seemingly didn’t affect Twigs’ attendance at this year's Met Gala, all make for an uncertain atmosphere. Shades of #8ACE00 and the abominable Magdalena Bay clash has divided the crowd too, the ultimate art-girl sacrifice. Committed we stand under the Estrella Damm stage. Cut to black. Strobes pulse. ‘Act I: The Practice’ lights up the LEDs. Synths whip and dancers dressed in puffy black bin-bag-esque two-pieces (that would look shit on anyone else) stomp and convulse on the industrially presented stage. Stems of Eusexua are introduced, electronic bagpipes glare and a bright white silhouettes our icon stood on the scaffolding. 'Perfect Stranger’ begins. Twigs has arrived. A shortened version of ‘Weak Spot’ builds into a thirsty, feral heat for ‘Room of Fools,‘ everybodies getting naked. Twigs leads the troop whipping from delicate adlibs and growls of the song's title. A red veil is draped over our angel for ’Striptease.’ The fabric stretches and wraps around her athletic frame as if it could tear at any point. The high cries towards the end of the track pierce through to even the hardest of souls.

An extended version of ’24hr Dog’ follows. Dressed in clear pleasers, Twigs looks like an avatar out of a cyberpunk game, effortlessly working the pole, lit as if she is a moving sculpture in a museum. 'Act II: State of Being,’ flares on screen as the ‘Eusexua’ intro swells, white backlights the metal structure that the dancers drape over. Twigs returns in a new costume to finish the track. She greets the crowd and bursts into unreleased ‘Perfectly.’ Without a moment to catch a breath, ‘Drums of Death” follows, the choreography an exact mirror as the video and some of the tightest from the set. A wig fitting and the down tempo of Caprisongs track ‘Oh My Love’ allows for the dancers to be introduced one-by-one (and for Twigs to sit down for a minute). The heat is then turned back on full for the following tracks, the stage is now a dirty ballroom, its inhabitants - voguing like mother fuckers and stripping wigs. ‘Girl Feels Good’ closes Act II and simmers the pace.

Returning for the final scene, Twigs, now dressed in the same red as before, a new bluntly chopped wig adorned (also red), opens with ‘Home With You.’ Black inverts, two figures and the steel frame are now the shadow for ’Numbers,’ The sword is stabbed and pulled, a blood silhouette splatters the back drop. Smoke bellows from the sides as ’Two Weeks,’ real ones in the crowd scream the words in unison, MAGDALENE’s winged, metal creature, floats above. Twigs collects herself, stripping down, for the final song and closer of 'Act II: The Pinnacle.’ The opening chords of ‘Cellophane’ play. Alone she calls, drenched in vulnerability. The weight of the song lands midway, the message fills. Tears are held as the all too familiar reminder rings out, a woman’s body and the inevitable trauma it holds, trauma that punches itself free to a liberated state that has no edges - triggered by the famous line from tonight's closing track. The moment is raw and its fragility rises to the sky. The transcendence abruptly bursts, as the brat green neighbour in the crowd face-times her bucket hat friend for a chat (he's chilling at an afters) with a third of the song left to go. Catch this show at a venue next time.

After a brief intermission, where we all tried to find each other over at the amphitheatre (we did eventually), it was time for the main event.. Charli XCX (C’mon!).

Sweat: Charli XCX & Troye Sivan

Troye Sivan is up first, opening with the infectious ‘Got Me Started’. “It’s my fucking birthday,” he announces through glitchy, autotuned warbles. ‘My, My, My’ follows, glittery and euphoric, as strobes flash and a shredded BRAT-green curtain unfurls from the sky. The crowd is fully locked in.

A few years ago, Charli XCX wasn’t even a top-billed act at Primavera, tucked mid-lineup on a smaller stage, awkwardly preceding King Gizzard. Now, she’s headlining. This set felt like a milestone. A full-circle, stadium-worthy validation of everything she’s built. Even as someone who still prefers Charli and how i’m feeling now over BRAT, seeing those new tracks live made their appeal click.

Troye more than held his own too. While most of the crowd were clearly here for Charli, his set was tight, charming and way more fun than expected if you weren’t already a fan. ‘One of Your Girls’ and ‘Bloom’ were standouts, playful, tender, and fully owning his role as pop’s pastel-dream frontman. At one point, Chappell Roan appeared for the infamous apple dance, sending the crowd into orbit.

Together, Charli and Troye delivered a maximalist, sweat-slicked pop spectacular. Troye brought poise and polish; Charli brought heat and chaos. The crowd, doused in green and glitter, shouting every lyric, was with them every step. Their performance of ‘1999’ felt like a knowing wink to how far they've come. ‘Talk Talk’ closed the show like a champagne bottle smashed on the bow of a very fast yacht.

After this set we caught a bit of The Dare over at the Schwarzkopf stage. Memory fully fogged here, flashes of a lanky dude in a suit holding up a symbol, must be The Dare. Didn’t hate it. Infact, it was surprisingly a very good, sweaty, fun finish to a packed Day One.

Primavera Sound Day Two (Bubbles):

Day two arrived, and yes, we were already running on fumes. The sun had completely torched the backs of Jonnie’s legs, he was now little more than a crispy husk of the man he once was. The previous night’s debauchery had taken its toll, and by the time we staggered toward the main stage for Wolf Alice, we were running purely on adrenaline and shame. But first, a pit stop at the food court, which felt like a sanctuary. A vast and varied spread awaited, each stall offering some kind of culinary salvation. We went for burgers and fries, nothing revolutionary, but deeply restorative. A smart choice. Exactly the sort of grease-to-soul ratio needed to soak up the sins of the night before.

Wolf Alice:

So unsurprisingly Clairo is a no show? No Problem. A welcome boot filler to the line-up comes from Wolf Alice. A guilty pleasure band who's bright light bursts on the Estrella Damm Stage with opener 'Formidable Cool.' Blue Weekend's 'Delicious Thing's' follows. 15 minutes in, the opening piano chords introduce the latest release, 'Bloom Baby Bloom' it's as effervescent as the studio version, Ellie Roswell saunters between the members, the breadth of her vocals stretches from the city walls the sea, the performance leaves us thirsty for the upcoming album, The Clearing set to be released later this year. The band flows through the rest of the hits from their discography, holding their cards close to their chest by only playing just one more song from their new album. A cinematic slow jam called 'The Sofa' slips in at some point. A medley of ‘Seven Nation Army’ and ‘Ironman’ closes the penultimate track 'Giant Peach.' The group close with fan favourite 'Don't Delete The Kisses,' to a dizzy, sunkissed crowd.

Haim:

It's hard to hate on Haim. Either sister could do the most average day-to-day activity (like turning on a tap) and before you know it a full blown jamboree is taking place. It's not cringey though, Este's bass face is now celebrated, the band's catchy riffs and staccato lines make it impossible not to sing along. The trio's ability to flutter between the shimmery (Summer Girl, I Want You Back) and the vulnerable (Right Now, Hallelujah) is commendable. Haim were a much needed injection of energy on the Saturday after a heavy Friday night. The perfect balance of fun but not overly intense. Sort of like seeing Fleetwood Mac but without the drama. They’re too adorable for their own good sometimes. It’s not our first time seeing Haim and it seems like they flirt with all the crowds who come to see their shows but surprisingly it doesn’t feel fake, it does seem like they probably go out into the crowds after the show and look for hotties. Or at least, that’s what they’d have you believe (wish).

Beach House:

Next up was Beach House, who were truly on top form at Primavera Sound. Never have they sounded so fully realised and epic as a band. Previously muted songs like Gila received an adrenaline shot, turning them into something far more badass than the original studio recording. Their music is consistently brilliant, but this performance felt like a true gift to the longtime fans. Unexpectedly, they played just one track from their most recent double album, favouring deep cuts and older favourites instead. ‘PPP’ was a personal Still Listening highlight, Victoria Legrand’s sultry vocals and harrowing imagery of descending into ice soared into a climactic crescendo of Alex Scally’s euphoric guitar. The hairs on your arms stood up during this set. They also played ‘Somewhere Tonight’ another deeper cut that feels like you’re swirling in a Lynchian ballroom on the cusp of the world sinking into itself. They closed their set with their biggest hit ‘Space Song’ which echoed through the crowd like a thunderous rapture. This was one of the best live Beach House shows, to both new and old fans alike, there was something really magical about their performance that really left you wanting to witness it all over again. Oh, and at one point we ended up chatting to Wet Leg in the crowd after asking them for a lighter, they didn’t have one (of course), which led to a short but passionate discussion about how everyone's on vapes these days. State of the world, really.

Sabrina Carpenter:

Everyone’s kicking up a fuss right now over Sabrina Carpenter’s new album artwork. Too provocative for the Disney diehards, not provocative enough for the progressives. But if there’s one thing no one can deny, it’s that Carpenter knows how to put on a show. It was the kind of set that reminded you just how many of her songs you’ve absorbed by osmosis: whether from the radio, social media, or playing faintly over the speakers in a vaguely stylish coffee shop (or whatever’s replaced Topshop as the default backdrop to Gen Z life).

That ubiquity made it easy to enjoy the show without being a diehard fan. The production was slick, theatrical, and playful like a hairspray-drenched Broadway number beamed in from an alternate 1950s. It kicked off with a retro news anchor-style intro before bursting into ‘Breaking News.’ By the time she launched into ‘because i liked a boy’, the entire crowd, stans and casuals alike, were belting out “i’m a homewrecker, i’m a slut” with full-body catharsis. The whole thing felt giddy and defiant, a big glittery exhale.

And just when you thought she’d peaked, she pulled out one of the weekend’s most surprising covers: ‘It’s Raining Men’ by The Weather Girls. Understandably, the crowd actually went wild for this. Carpenter closed with the viral mega-hit ‘Espresso,’ and honestly, only the most insufferably contrarian attendee could deny how good it sounded. If anything, this show solidified just how sharp, self-aware, and genuinely entertaining Sabrina Carpenter really is.

Wet Leg:

After our earlier run-in with Wet Leg in the crowd, it felt only right to catch their actual set. By this point, though, our collective energy levels were flagging, so we opted to perch on the grassy knoll that overlooks the Cupra stage, a scenic little spot that felt custom-built for a mid-festival recharge. From a distance, the band sounded sharp and effortlessly fun, delivering exactly the kind of electric, tongue-in-cheek indie rock they’ve built their name on. In hindsight, we probably should’ve rallied and joined the crowd proper, but as it stood, their set made for the perfect soundtrack to sit, chill, and gather ourselves before diving back into the evening chaos.

Floating Points:

Closing out Day 2 with Floating Points felt like a perfect comedown, gentle, immersive electronic music to carry us into the early hours. Sam Shepherd was joined by visual artists who manipulated traditional ink-dropping techniques in real-time, transforming the screens into swirling, fluid dreamscapes. The result was an experience that felt less like a set and more like drifting into a trance. The music ebbed and pulsed with a hypnotic softness, a slow-motion kind of dance music that subtly disoriented and soothed in equal measure. Particularly, it has to be said, for anyone deep in a ketamine spiral. As the night blurred into morning, Floating Points offered a calm, shimmering finale. A deeply woozy way to wind things down.

Primavera Sound Day Three (Blossom):

Day three arrived far too soon, and if we thought we were struggling on day two, this was a whole new level of ruin. The sun felt hotter, the hangovers heavier, and our collective energy was hanging by a thread. Naturally, we sought comfort in the food court again, this time swapping burgers for pizzas, which, as it turned out, offered far too little stomach lining for what the night had in store (a fact one of us would come to regret by sunset). Still, there was a quiet sadness hanging in the air, the realisation that the best weekend of the year was already nearly over.

To ease into it, we took a seat at the amphitheatre and watched Christian Lee Hutson's hushed, introspective folk glide gently over the crowd like a warm breeze. It was a needed moment of stillness, the calm before the final storm. A soft reset before we shook ourselves back into gear and threw ourselves, once again, into the thrum of the evening. There was still so much more to see, and even if our bodies were on the brink, we weren’t about to waste a second of it.

Black Country, New Road:

This year’s hoppiest band, no question, their music flutters with the wide-eyed charm of woodland creatures discovering spring. Earnest, slightly awkward, and undeniably endearing, there’s a theatricality to it all that’s hard not to find strangely lovable. Watching them live felt like catching a fleeting moment of magic: like the Animals of Farthing Wood, if they all went to art school and learned to write chamber pop epics. Their set shimmered with the soft strangeness of their latest record, Forever Howling, performed like a shared secret between friends who know each other too well.

There’s something deeply moving about how they play together, not just tight but intuitive, like a group of besties finishing each other's thoughts in harmony and dissonance. ‘Happy Birthday’ was a highlight, blooming into something truly special in the live setting, delicate but never timid.

A blind man in the crowd smiled gently toward the stage, sensing the sunlight in their sound. It was one of those quiet, transcendent Primavera moments you just feel lucky to witness.

Fontaines D.C.

Fontaines D.C. delivered a tightly packed set at Primavera Sound 2025, expertly balancing newer tracks with fan favourites that have cemented their reputation. The band’s energy was palpable from the first note, with highlights like the raucous ‘Boys in the Better Land’ bringing the crowd to life and the ‘90s-tinged ‘Starburster’ impressing with its unexpectedly fresh hip hop-inspired drum patterns. While the majority of the performance hit the mark, there was one track that faltered due to some off-key vocals. Still, it was easy to see why Fontaines D.C. continue to build their following their blend of brooding post-punk and poetic lyricism feels both urgent and authentic.

What really stood out was the band’s integration of the Free Palestine messaging into their set. Far from feeling like a token gesture, it was delivered thoughtfully and with real intent, creating a moment that resonated deeply with the audience. It added a layer of meaningful purpose to an already intense live experience.

Setlist-wise, the flow was well considered, opening with the moody ‘Romance’ and weaving through anthems like ‘Jackie Down the Line’ and ‘Televised Mind.’ The energy dipped and soared through tracks like ‘Death Kink’ and ‘Big Shot’, with newer songs like ‘Sundowner’ and ‘It's Amazing to Be Young’ fitting comfortably alongside classics. The set closed on a high note, with ‘In the Modern World’ and ‘I Love You’ leaving the crowd eager for more.

Overall, Fontaines D.C. proved once again why they remain a vital force on the modern rock stage, passionate, purpose-driven, and still young enough to keep surprising.

Chappell Roan:

Headliner Chappell Roan came out swinging. Drenched in camp, chaos and confidence, she delivered one of the weekend’s most vocally impressive sets. Genuinely, fucking hell, this girl can sing. From the first belt to the last bow, her voice soared across the festival site and probably all the way back to our hilltop hotel (It was a 100 euros cheaper).

Her set was packed with theatrical flair and big pop hooks, and you suddenly realised just how many of the songs you actually knew. ‘Femininomenon’ was pure euphoria, ‘Good Luck, Babe!’ hit like a glitter-coated gut punch, and ‘Hot to Go!’ triggered a full field-wide flash mob of coordinated arm flapping. Joyful. Totally unserious. Perfect. She delivered every note with drag show drama and stadium-sized power, like if early Gaga took over a high school talent show and made everyone cry. Pink Pony Club as the closer was an obvious high point, glitter and catharsis in equal measure.

She even squeezed in a cover of Heart’s ‘Barracuda’, which... sure, was a bit of a misfire. Technically solid, but didn’t quite land with the same joy or theatrical punch as her own material. A minor blip in an otherwise bulletproof set.

New track ‘The Subway’ got a warm reception, ‘The Giver’ featured a moment of sharp and hilarious crowd banter (she shouted out audience members’ ex-boyfriends who “couldn’t get the job done”), and ‘Casual’ offered a sweet midpoint breather before things ramped up again.

In short, a fabulous set from a rising star who knows exactly who she is, part popstar, part showgirl, part scream therapy for glittered queers and their allies. One of the most memorable acts of the final day, hands down.

LCD Soundsystem:

Closing out Sunday night with LCD Soundsystem felt like the emotional comedown we didn’t know we needed. After three days of pop maximalism and dehydration, James Murphy and co. offered a set that was both danceable and devastatingly sharp, dry, romantic, resigned. It was the perfect finale. They opened with ‘Oh Baby’, a soft-focus slow burn that shimmered into life. From there it was a masterclass in pacing. ‘You Wanted a Hit’ was a smug, swaggering shrug. ‘Tonite’ was knowingly ridiculous, ‘I Can Change’ as affecting as ever, preceded by a cheeky nod to Kraftwerk’s ‘The Model’.

The setlist offered a strong representation of their catalogue including the unmistakably amazing ‘x-ray eyes’. By the time ‘Dance Yrself Clean’ dropped, the field had fully erupted. ‘New York, I Love You but You’re Bringing Me Down’ followed. A quiet, theatrical wind-down, complete with James Murphy at the piano like a jaded showman wrapping up his residency.

This year’s Primavera felt like a quiet revolution, a festival gently redefined by its curation and crowd. With an all-female-fronted headline roster leading the charge, the weekend took on a tone that was noticeably softer, more celebratory and more considered than in previous years. It wasn’t just the music that shifted, the entire energy of the site reflected something more open and generous. There was a sense of care in the air, in how people danced, how they moved through the crowd and how they showed up for one another. Solo festival-goers were checked in on, drinks were shared, outfits complimented. People came to enjoy music and connection, not dominate the space.

The usual bro-centric intensity, all elbows and British lad culture, felt like a fading memory. Of course, there were still some rogue elements (Kevin Parker played DJ at one point), but overall, this felt like the most joyous and genuinely diverse crowd Primavera Sound has welcomed in a while. You could feel it in the queues, in the toilet lines, in the crowds and in the quiet acts of kindness between strangers.

There’s something powerful about watching a festival take shape around artists who haven’t always been handed the headline slots. You felt it in the audience for Charli, for Twigs, for Carpenter, the sheer giddiness, the relief, the feeling of being seen. This year’s Primavera Sound felt like one of the festival’s strongest editions yet. A perfect collision of connection, sun, and sound. The atmosphere was loose and euphoric, the crowds open and easy and the music hit that rare sweet spot between fun and unforgettable.

Festival Review: Primavera Sound 2025