Saturday at Primavera Sound started out a little rough, for a number of reasons. On Friday, we’d ridden our rental bikes along the boardwalk to the venue, which was amazing. However, we raged a little hard; after having seen Girls, M83, Sleigh Bells, Rufus Wainwright, Big Star’s Third, and passing by The Cure’s stage, inebriation was well underway (more for me than for Katie and Brandon: I have little to no filter). After I insisted upon biking home rather than taking a cab, Brandon took to escorting me while Katie stayed for Araab Musik (jealous). During the half-hour bike ride back to the hostel, I crashed my bike a practically innumerable amount of times (actually, I do know the exact number, but it’s too embarrassing to admit). So I woke up with scrapes and bruises all over my body, and an indescribably painful backache. Needless to say, it was difficult to get moving and drag myself back to the festival-and back on the bike to boot…I’m such a trooper.
Then, when we got to there, security confiscated our apparently not very well hidden drinks, so we were a little bummed at the prospect of having to pay for outrageously priced 6-10 euro beers the whole night. Since we had a little break after the Beach House show, Brandon and I ventured back out of the festival grounds to go have a normal beer. As we rounded a corner, Brandon did a double take, then whispered to me that he thought the guy chatting to our right was Jeff Tweedy, who is the lead singer of one our both of our favorite bands, Wilco. Being the nerds we are, we walked past this dude four times, trying to get the nerve up to even approach him to say hi. Finally, we realized if we didn’t give it a shot, we’d be kicking ourselves in the ass for the rest of our lives, so we valiantly walked up, interrupted the conversation, and giddily told Jeff Tweedy that we love his music. He thanked us, then proceeded to tell me my octopus tattoo was beautiful, which made my life. Brandon asked for a picture, telling him it would basically make his day-omitting that it would make our whole lives-at which point he told us he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make our day, and we melted. After the photo, we thanked him profusely, excused ourselves, practically skipped away, and sat on a nearby park bench to FLIP OUT.
This and the Father John Misty show were absolutely the highlights of the festival, which I will detail later, but this had to get documented (while I obsessively listen to Wilco). Barcelona is amazing, and I can’t wait to write more about this trip.