The festival site of Primavera is a marvel.

The Ray-Ban, with its seating like an amphitheater,

The DJ site that can only be reached by bridge.

The Pitchfork and Adidas stages at the bottom of a steep staircase that overlooks the Barcelona coastline beautifully.

The Primavera Stage smack down in the centre of things yet blocking absolutely nothing.

And then we’re not even talking about the large field with the two main stages a bit further off.

But even if you don’t head to that field, there are still some quality acts to be found. One of them starts early at the Primavera stage. Sinkane I’ve seen before, just coming off his album Mars. The vocals on that were a bit aloof, distant, singing over hypnotic guitar lines.

Now, not so much.

The band has turned into a full-fledged band for World Music, taking cues from African rhythms, blues and funk sounds, and a bit of that going to church gospel. Sinkane isn’t even really the main vocalist anymore, having enlisted a woman who, next to having that big voice, also keeps working it, keeps dancing, and also keeps on smiling, to make sure those feel good vibes transcend right into the audience.

The growth isn’t only in terms of band size, but it is also evident when he turns to one of his Mars tracks, ‘Jeeper Creeper’, which already was amazing in its recorded format. Now, live, it still thrives on the same funky rhythm lines, but especially when they slide into the new second part of the song, where the female vocalist gets to work it, the audience witnesses not only a transition within the song, but also from a young artist back then, and a more complete band a good five years on.

Angel Olsen has a way to wrap the audience around her finger.

To someone shouting “We love you”, she, with a Steel Magnolias wit, asks when she and the audience are getting married.

There’s something loveable and strong about her at the same time.

The same goes for her vocals and songs, which combine the vulnerable with a palpable strength. She makes sure all that is in place when she sings a number of songs from her well-received album Woman, which came out last year, ending with the titular track.

Dan Boeckner leaves it all out on the battlefield.

Whether it be with Handsome Furs, with Wolf Parade, or, as on this year’s Primavera, with Operators. Him, someone behind synths and assorted electronics, and a live drummer, get started late at night, but tired they certainly are not.

He spouts the lyrics out as if he is leading the protest march of a life time, in the meantime taking care of a synth and sending out some mean guitar riffs to boot.

In between songs he even tinkers around with which graphics are projected behind them.

Energetic, strong, and charismatic, the set list moves from one power synth track to another. And, as ever, he seems grateful for being allowed to do this.

Like, genuinely.

And we believe that, as he puts it all out there, no punches pulled, no holds barred, as if it is the very first time.

Alexandra Savior and her keyboard player have the atmosphere down pat.

Both dressed in black, with a hint of nostalgia, they seem to be in their own dance macabre.

The way she hunches over the microphone, her voice sounding in between bored and the not-there, and from there on occasion descending into madness.

The rest of the band doesn’t entirely play along. All the men are casually dressed, and the bass bleeds into the rest of the sound and, at times, obscures the vocals.

Which is a pity. Because the vocals and the tone they set are the central hub the rest needs to work around. It seems she would be better served with a more clinical backing sound, a more complete control over the stage set, and maybe some visuals too.

Later that day Solange would play, and the togetherness of every element (sound, movement, visuals; everything) is what could’ve made Savior’s performance one of the more memorable highlights of the festival too.

Even without, the potential is palpable, and the performance, as is, is still very much worth the time there.­­

Sometimes, the coattails one chooses has a lasting effect on everything.

SURVIVE members made the soundtrack to the major Netflix hit Stranger Things.

And so, suddenly, you are famous.

The four of them have their electronic hardware lined up next to each other, and then an hour of b-movie horror soundtrack begins, fitting in with the Stranger Things aesthetic.

Certainly, at the end, I am reminded why I love that sound so much. It’s heavy on the atmosphere, on the hypnosis, and it certainly conjures up images in one’s mind like this kind of music is supposed to do.

The urge to put similar artists back on my iPod is both praise and a small point of criticism on the band. Yes, they have put that sound back at the forefront of my mind. And, yes, there are artists out there who combine that sound with tracks that are closer to my specific preferences. Songs that last a bit longer, and which have a steady beat/drum underneath it that gets that feel of being chased right into you, translating into the physical movement of dancing, not running.

But this, late at night in the Primavera darkness, it certainly ends the day in fitting fashion.

One way or another, Primavera has always managed to do two things for me. A), make sure that artists who, for some reason, have escaped me present their awesomeness to me. B), book not only the great acts, but also the smaller acts that I happen to find great.

So there is the vivid memory of Patti Smith announcing that, yes, Jesus might have died for somebody’s sins, but definitely not mine. And how about wily veteran John Carpenter doing his B movie synth schtick whilst the images of said movies roll in the backdrop.

And in the other category tons of memories to be found as well.

Like The Juan MacLean bringing their tight act to town, with everyone vehemently dancing at the Pitchfork stage to the fact that, if you open your mind to a slip of design, everything you need will fall to you. Closing out the festival to party act Cut Copy, too, is something that will forever stay with me (and the guy who, in explicitly, was behaving aggressively at, of all things, a synth-pop band).

This year, in both categories, we had to be happy with a bit less.

Not helping is that the two acts that would qualify for the latter grouping are conveniently programmed against the two juggernauts that I don’t regret seeing. So no cold electro sounds from Kelly Lee Owens, and no dancing guitars by Glass Animals.

Acts fitting in the former category don’t land with quite the oomph as some have done in earlier years. I’m not disqualifying anything that Arab Strap or Teenage Fanclub did during their sets. The singing was fine, the bands played it impeccably as far as I could tell for the 20 minutes I saw of each, but without being a major fan they didn’t draw me in or compel me to stay in the way Patti Smith did do, for instance.

Being further down the field certainly tainted my possible enjoyment of The XX and Arcade Fire. With so many people talking through the former it was neigh impossible to really get into the minimalist dance of the trio, with my doubts about them being a big podium act still lingering because of it. Arcade Fire started out strong, with the whole field singing along to an oldie-but-goldie. The new track, ‘Everything Now’, seems to specifically take the kitsch of disco, but little of disco’s real strengths. Having seen them at Primavera before on the Reflektor tour, I know the live force they can be. Further upfield, after the stronger opening, it fell kind of flat.

Wild Beasts, somehow, had always escaped me live. Boy King is a decent album, and they perform admirably. The vocals, especially, are strong from both singers, and many songs seem to get a little extra kick and a little extra guitar. The live act does enter a whiff of laddishness to the whole proceedings, which for many in the audience might be a draw (certainly for the muscled blokes in front of me it does), but, for me, slightly off-putting.

Also making me slightly queasy are two things during an otherwise fine set by Preoccupations. The first queasy moment is that apparently it is a thing to chant their previous name, Viet Cong, as a term of affection. The second one is that, at the end, the band start an outro that is so long it seems that they are daring the stage people to pull the plug. I, personally, pulled the plug myself and walked out. Not to say that the band didn’t play tight the rest of the set, with some parts really immersive and impressive. The shouty vocals lend a tad more aggressiveness to the music than on album, enticing people (and by that I do mean a whole throng of them) to crowd surf, mosh pit, and go all out. Energy aplenty this live performance.

Energy, too, with Fufanu, with the singer of the Icelandic band hopping, jumping, and posing through their post-punk tracks. The singing, at times, is barely audible, but with the energy of the frontman, and with the rhythm section and guitar doing their thing, it does make for an enjoyable act. One which, perhaps counterintuitively, shines when the songs take on slightly more structure, as with ‘Sports’ and ‘Bad Rockets’.

BadBadNotGood have no vocals, but try to keep the energy up with their jazzy rhythms and with the drummer calling things out to the audience as if at a carnival or market. Instrumentally gifted, sure, but the jazziness takes away more of the momentum than that it adds in sheer marvel, and some of the interludes by the band I could do without. Instrumentally gifted, too, is Ryley Walker on guitar. Also sans vocals, he and his band apparently are playing live for the first time, but you wouldn’t have known if he wouldn’t have told. The songs all have a nice atmosphere, and the guitar work (and interplay with the other two musicians) showcase the skill of a musician.

Sampha played the Ray-Ban stage and certainly pulled in the people. His voice is stellar, and he has a variety of songs that go over well, some with a bit more pace, others more in the piano ballad realm. The kind of beats he uses aren’t particularly my style, and there’s still some improvement to be made in the realm of podium entertainment. It’s solid, albeit not yet so spectacular I’m running to the ticket office for his next gig.

Primavera also tried some stuff out. On the Firestone Stage an act would perform an intimate set in the late afternoon. Jeremy Jay was on set on Saturday. I love the icy synthesizer sound that goes with the guitar and drumcomputer/pad. The vocals, on album, are finely attuned to that synth, giving it this dreamy, alienated feel that fits the songs so well. Live they don’t put that slant on the vocals, which causes it too lose some of that vibe. Not to say that the last song he played was a nice way to move to kickstart the final festival day.

On the Night Pro stage they did this nifty thing where they basically created a foreign band mini festival, with strings of bands from similar areas in the world performing. The two bands we managed to catch there were from South America, first the weird psychedelia circus of Marrakesh followed by the three-men-with-guitars rock of Astronaut Project. Both did little to start hyping up their local scenes as the new hotbed of creativity.

Luckily, there also were some real pleasantries to be had (see Part 3), but in earlier years that pool was bigger than the pool of bands/artists that were okay or, Oh horror, even a bit disappointing. Lack of personal favorites and artists that simply compelled me straight into fandom made it that more bands were, by lack of something snazzier, just a bit of all right.

A weekender in Barcelona always gives you fragments of memories you’ll be carrying around for a while. Maybe that snippet is a cultural thing. Like how people just wash the beach sand off their bare bodies in plain sight (exposing perhaps more our prudishness than their nakedness).

That little vignette might be that, during the heat of the day, young people still pay their dues on the soccer pitch or basketball court instead of evading heat and work inside.

And then we’re not even on the Primavera Sound site yet.

Primavera has treated me well over the years. Fragmented memories still linger in my brain. That of a boy waiting, by himself, for over thirty minutes, clinging to his multi-coloured rucksack at the front where Blood Orange will, momentarily, perform a fantastic set.

The snapshot of a completely enthralled crowd silently taking in the sounds of Radiohead. Even if, standing mid-field (at best), that’s more than anyone could expect.

Or ingrained in my memory the reunion tour of Slowdive, which saw two people faint right in front of me during a set that propelled me to get tickets for their upcoming European tour.

This year is sure to add a number of vivid recollections to that (although not as much as, perhaps, in past editions was the case).

One thing is for sure, Primavera this year turned into a monarchy, reigned by two Queens high and mighty. Both providing iconic moments that created everlasting memories.

How about Solange, whobreaks her calmness and serenity at the end of the set during ‘Don’t Touch My Hair’, punching the “What you say to me” lines whilst powering herself through some defiant dance moves.

While she freaks it out, the rest of the band (all dressed in similar orange hues) still do their calm, pre-meditated dance moves. Solange herself, when chorus moves to verse, returns to her cerebral aura, calmly, yet with poise, explaining that You don’t understand what it means to me.

Grace Jones, off-screen, mentions, during one of her many changes in clothing, that she’s eaten too much. And could the person buttoning her up please stop laughing and get it done.

All in good jest.

As are her comments that with the wind, she doesn’t need fans. Not the audience, of course. As the fans, they blow her good.

Continuing that trend, she fans the male dancer who dances around the stripping pole during one song, the both of them scarcely wearing more than body paint. In that same attire, but with different accessories, she tells us to Pull up to the bumper baby, inviting the voyeur in to make us complicit in her funky sex scene.

Both touch upon the essence of being oneself. Solange, mostly using material from her new album, walks us through life as an African-American woman in contemporary America. With the hardships and structural discrimination that takes place. She forgoes the angry woman spiel deliberately, instead she coolly, artfully states her case with understated poise.

Be weary, she sings, of the ways of the world. She sings that she has Got a lot to be mad about, but is never allowed to show. Or tell. Or explain. So she talks about how she tried to drink it away. Read it away. Run it away.

The album already is a superb vision of contemporary life for the African-American woman, and live she syncs it up by controlling the whole creative process. The choreography isn’t akin a pop choreography, but it is like theatre, like performance art. From when I saw her years ago in a small venue off the back of the fun True to this, it is clear the leaps she has made.

Grace Jones, meanwhile, goes back to her roots. Musically, with the rhythms, the genres, and the texts, and with her songs, singing about Jamaica, going back to Hurricane. Where Solange choose to express her pride in an understated manner, Grace Jones fills every corner of the festival with it. A Jamaican woman of a certain age, who is to tell her don’t do body paint, don’t talk about sex, don’t dance with younger men equally dressed in nothing. She too, is in complete control of the whole creative process, from the costumes to the set-up to her charisma on stage.

Her voice, too, still sublime.

These two women show power and pride in different ways, both hitting the mark exquisitely.

Both artists send out a specific message and vision, but through that also a broader theme. One of empowerment, of being oneself, and of being proud.

All hail the Queens of Primavera 2017.

Sunday morning and the sun is still shining. The switch from the May Bank Holiday weekend to the one in June has really benefitted Vantastival. Unfortunately the power has gone so we've no proper breakfast. We have to eat fruit like a sham, or a vegetarian. There's a generator running for the coffee machine to keep things running, and together with the BYOB policy means that no one is going thirsty.

It should be a good day for music with Musos’ Guide favourites Mongrel State, Makings and Nix Moon all playing later. With the power back on, and real food in our bellies, it's time for some music. Suso Youth Choir get things started on the main stage. The 20-odd kids look delighted that they are getting away with singing the swear words in Radiohead’s ‘Creep’.

Before singing ‘Like A Prayer’ Roisin reminds us that many of them are sitting their Leaving Certificate exams (A-Levels) in three days, “so make it worth our while”.  Vantastival’s family friendly ethos extends to pets. There must be a hundred dogs here so when an announcement is made that a German shepherd is over heating in a car, the choir lead the chant to “break the window”.

Meanwhile, Modern trad group Al-Fi are entertaining the Firehouse. They banter with the crowd, invite hurts onstage and give us ne interpretations of traditional folk tunes. They incorporate bluegrass and seanchaí music with band leader Fiachra switching between uilleann pipes and flute, and the banjo and fiddle dropping in and out of the mix as appropriate for each song.

The much anticipated rain finally arrives just in time to drive the crowds under the shelter of the tent for one of our own favourites. If you're not already familiar with Mongrel State, the Italian /Irish / Spanish /Argentinian group play southern/western/ latin rock with country rockabilly, blues and the harmonies of The Bellamy Brothers . Their sound has really developed and mutated since the recording of their debit album Mestizo. To the extent that it seems incredible that it was only release last year.

That rain turned out to be a brief shower so the sunlight has returned and Pine The Pilcrow take to the Firestone. Their mournful folk played on fiddle, cello and piano is accompanied by a witch dancing at the foot of the stage. Their inventive and percussive playing elevates their songs above their peers. A cover of Elbow’s ‘A Day Like This’ really suits them.

The final run of three bands in the Firestone is pure gold. Local garagepoppers The Periods are up first . With songs about orgasming while giving birth amongst others, their bockety lo-fi electro pop makes up in charm and catchiness what it lacks in professional sheen. The sextet crammed on to the small fire stone stage embody the creativity and disregard for convention of first wave punk. A bunch of blokey types run in from the rain just in time for the sampled loop of “What is the definition of sexual harassment?” and they immediately look uncomfortable. They're one of our new favourite bands.

And two of our old favourites are next, starting with electro rockers Makings. Their 2015 album Cognition was an assured debut but they're not playing any of it here. Their set tonight is entirely made up of unreleased material from their forthcoming album. The emphasis with this collection of tunes is definitely on the electro side. If they were American they'd surely christen it EDM. The new set goes down a storm with the Vantastival crowd and the sweat rolls like a warehouse rave.

For most bands it would be an impossible act to follow but Nix Moon receive a heroes welcome. They narrowly beat Makings in the final of the Battle Of The Bands to land this coveted headline spot. As they take the stage for line check the crowd chant their name. The celebratory mood continues as they finish their check and “One more tune” breaks out. We're only short of John Terry appearing to complete to congratulatory picture.

The incredible high standard of the bands on show, particularly considering that this is the second stage displays the strength and depth of live music in North Leinster. It's the relaxed atmosphere that everyone talks about but the line up of this wee fest is superior to some larger, more expensive, booze schilling events. See you again next year Vantastival!