Sónar succumbs to a revelry hedonism

L'Hospitalet de LlobregatThe new layout of Sónar at Fira Gran Via means that the simultaneous offering grows considerably. Up to six simultaneous stages operate during a large part of the afternoon, night, and early morning. The feeling of frustration for not being able to get everywhere exists, but perhaps it is not as evident as in other festivals. Well into midnight, the public moves between the stages and rest areas without haste and with a more contemplative than restless attitude. Surely managing energies to be in top form when it's time to give it all at Charlotte de Witte's set, one of Friday's early morning highlights.

All this benefits the early-hour artists, who find a well-disposed audience, generous with what is offered from the stage (especially at SonarVillage) and often eager to be amazed (in the darkness of the covered stages). Of course, until 8 p.m. there are few people on the premises, and those who are there concentrate in the Village. Let's say that the change in model has brought about a change in the festival's biorhythm, and as long as there is sunlight, it will be difficult to have that feeling of fullness that there was at Sónar de Dia in Montjuïc. No complaints, it's a new era. The problem with attendance was more worrying on Thursday, which was far below the 15,000 people who in previous years went to Montjuïc on Thursdays. was more worrying on Thursday, which was far below the 15,000 people who in previous years went to Montjuïc on Thursdays.

The two things, little audience but good disposition, were experienced by the Celrà duo Ain in The Hall, who precisely played at the SonarHall with red curtains. Aina Serena and Jan Cabarrocas presented themselves with five backing vocalists, a polyphonic addition that gives more scope to the telluric electronics they propose in the notable EP Intel·ligència romàntica. Serena sings respecting diverse Iberian folklores with contemporary intention, sometimes to unfold narrative romances and others to transmit a mysterious poetics, as in Trista, one of the duo's most unique compositions. Furthermore, in this song where Serena establishes herself as a kind of prophet of desolation, they make sub-bass frequencies and transverse flute dialogue. She received a deserved applause from the hundred people who were attentive to the concert. And they got more warmth afterwards when they performed Massa romàntica, Ain in the Hall's best song, which combines the playful avant-garde of Björk's tree of life with verses about the impossibility of articulating a desire that, however, glimpses a hope because she says she knows that “she is not alone in this clean and dead Barcelona” and that “something will save us in this love”. Music, perhaps.

Also in the Hall, a bit more public was waiting for the Japanese Daito Manabe, a classic of the last years of Sónar. He brought an audiovisual show as a result of one of his investigations with AI. What the spectators received was a familiar cascade of loops at times more techno and others with rhythmic patterns borrowed from drum-and-bass. Interesting beats, but which caused a number of desertions. It seemed more stimulating to walk around inside the surprising mutant installation Organysmo, created by LedPulse, which generates 3D images with thousands of LED light points, transforming the light. And it was even more striking to go out into the daylight to find Kelis at the Village, where there were indeed more people.

The party in the Village

The North American singer, with an intermittent career after starting the 21st century as a revelation of R&B and the most danceable hip-hop. At Sónar, Kelis appeared wearing a t-shirt of the military man Ibrahim Traoré, the president of Burkina Faso. Eager to please, but without exaggeration, she quickly delivered familiar material like Millionaire and Good stuff, lending her voice to negotiate with a drummer, a DJ (wearing an Spain t-shirt) and a backing vocalist: an austere format but with enough resources to guarantee a good show. Overflowing with charisma and with her characteristic red hair, she mixed good moments and brief African splashes (she has a house in Kenya) with others that were a bit rushed, especially when the bass collided with her voice, but at all times the memory that the songs activate prevailed, and that a good part of the audience appreciated by singing and dancing without moving their feet, and even more so when the show entered dance territory, when she unleashed tracks like Milkshake and when she played cards that have accompanied her for many years, such as references to Nirvana's Smells like teen spirit and Donna Summer's I feel love, grafted into the repertoire with a festive spirit. The end, of course, was upbeat with many smiles on the green carpet.

SonarClub, the festival's largest space, was opened by the Basque Zuri with a set of a decidedly non-populist spirit deeply rooted in smoky dubstep loaded with pulsating sub-bass. It was a good way to put the audience in the mood to receive the British rapper Skepta, the headliner of the night (before Charlotte de Witte's set). At the time of closing this chronicle, Skepta, the grime hero, was offering a show that promised to be one of the most memorable of this edition. Hooded and in front of an audience spread out without crowding through SonarClub (which has a capacity of 15,000 people), the Nigerian-born rapper started with the powerful Shutdown, one of the hits from the album Konnichiwa (2016). "What a crazy crowd!" he exclaimed upon noting the roar with which he was received. The enthusiasm continued in crescendo as he unleashed more bangers like Cops & robbers, That's not me and Redrum, always with great command of the flow.