12-13-14/07/2018

Mad Cool Festival 2018

Espacio Mad Cool, Madrid

by Claudio Lancia

The gigantism of the Mad Cool lineup, the Festival now in its third year in Madrid, might stem from the frustration of having to watch the success of Catalan separatists year after year: in Barcelona, within a fortnight, two of the most acclaimed festivals in Europe take place, fully satisfying both indie-circuit fans (Primavera Sound) and electro-scene purists (Sonar).

In an attempt to seize supremacy over Spanish territory, the Live Nation giant steps onto the field, fielding a parade of stars capable of drawing over 80,000 people a day to the new, larger venue in the Valdebebas area, north of the capital, just a few kilometres from the airport and right next to Real's ciutadella, precisely where, only days earlier, European champion Cristiano Ronaldo had been warming up his muscles, fresh off his move to Juventus.

The area is rather far from the city centre, and not particularly well served by public transport, especially at night, but the organisers manage to lay on efficient shuttle buses running continuously to Plaza Castilla and Plaza Colon, and the nearby metro stays open 24 hours for the whole duration of the Festival. Sure, you have to walk a good quarter of an hour to reach one or the other, in the middle of cosmic nowhere, and the taxi queue runs a good couple of hours, but somehow you manage to get home.

The queues: this will be one of Mad Cool's biggest thorns in the side — queues to get in, especially if you arrive after 7pm, queues to get food (they'll catch us out on day one, after which we'll make do with cheap sandwiches bought at the Carrefour down the road), queues to get drinks (same story on day one, after which we'll aim for the less crowded stages), and prices that are generally a touch too high, especially compared with Spain's usual standards.

In short, not everything runs perfectly, and the complaints on social media will make themselves heard, but a few small countermeasures are enough to let you enjoy a genuinely impressive lineup, with just one gripe: the pointlessly enormous area in front of the two main stages reserved for VIP wristband holders. The result is that anyone without a VIP pass is left standing some distance back, while that space stays half empty. Not exactly a pretty sight, not even for the artists performing, since both Alex Kapranos of Franz Ferdinand and Josh Homme of Queens Of The Stone Age will protest vigorously from the stage about the situation, the latter so forcefully as to almost put the safety of the crowd at risk, stopping his set to invite the entire audience to shout "Let them in!".

These premises are necessary, because the shortcomings need to be pointed out, not to criticise for the sake of it, but to suggest possible improvements: an area so large and so crowded needs to be organised functionally, avoiding creating too much inconvenience for the public, perhaps by positioning the stages so they don't interfere with each other because of high volumes — a problem that led Massive Attack to refuse to perform, since the sound coming from the Franz Ferdinand stage would have affected them: this too has been widely covered across the specialist press. A somewhat diva-ish attitude on Massive Attack's part, but one that nonetheless highlights a few things to fix ahead of future editions of what could genuinely become — in terms of sheer scale — one of the most important mainstream Festivals in the world.

Two stages sit in the central arena, another two of smaller capacity near the entrance, plus three semi-enclosed tented spaces hosting events dedicated to electronic music and the underground circuit. Plentiful merchandising, the now-iconic Ferris wheel towering over the site, the ground entirely covered with a carpet of synthetic grass, comfortable to lie down on and perfect for turning what was once a bare, dusty patch of land into a vivid, colourful environment.

But the lineup is the event's real strength, not just among the headline names but also in the undercard: suffice it to say that the very first day alone guarantees an act worth the price of the whole pass on its own, Pearl Jam, even with a set cut down to just two hours and a setlist among the least convincing of their acclaimed ongoing tour. Add to that heavyweights like Tame Impala (ever more sweetly pop) and Kasabian, and it's hard to resist the pull of the main arena, which by 7.20pm was already hosting an excellent set from Eels and, late at night, MGMT.

Big names, but keep an eye on the secondary stages, where acts like Fidlar and Yo La Tengo roam — the latter delivering the best live set of the day (I'd call it a tie with Eels) — The Last Internationale (not bad at all, these guys) and Japandroids (ageing badly, with the three-piece formula making them drastically repetitive). On the electro side, unlucky Gold Panda has his laptop crash on him, Lali Puna are good but a touch soporific, and Justice are hyper-adrenalised.

That's just to mention the most striking names, but there are plenty of gems, and, as with any festival of this size, the sacrifices to be calculated in terms of what you have to miss are often drastic.

Day two in the Main Arena starts off sluggish with Kevin Morby, but while the sun is still well up, At The Drive In wake everyone up with an hour or so of post-hardcore that turns into an infernal beating. After such an electric shake-up, Snow Patrol seem downright tame — better to wander off elsewhere, catching a bit of (overrated?) Goat Girl and watching the fun Ofenbach dj-set, though for dance lovers the highlight later on will be Paul Kalkbrenner's techno paths.

On the secondary stages parade Perfume Genius, Alice In Chains, Sampha, Black Pistol Fire, but it's clear that the main stages' Jack White is the one drawing all the attention — great voice, great guitar, an excellent set ranging across his solo repertoire, Raconteurs, Dead Weather and plenty of White Stripes, alongside the ultra-stylish Arctic Monkeys (close to perfection, with the new songs giving extra dynamic range to the adrenaline-fuelled blasts of "Brianstorm" and "I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor") and the vitamin-charged Franz Ferdinand.

Day three. It will be a long night, so it's better to head to the Festival a little later, so that at 8.30pm you can enjoy Jack Johnson stretched out on the synthetic grass while waiting for Queens Of The Stone Age, catch a glimpse of a few Depeche Mode evergreens while moving from the garage-rock of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club to the psychedelic visuals of Daniel Avery, enjoy the genuine blues-rock of Rival Sons while rushing headlong towards Nine Inch Nails.

It wasn't the most anticipated band of the Festival, no, but tonight, walking towards the exit, the consensus will be almost unanimous: the best show of Mad Cool 2018, the one that (if you had to pick just one) will be remembered, is Trent Reznor's band. A great setlist, relentlessly paced, with the only moment of calm saved for the end with the emotional "Hurt". After them come the reborn Jet of Nic Chester, tens of thousands of people will dance until 4.30am to the sounds of Underworld, and of Black Madonna, the star of the closing dj-set, but after Nine Inch Nails there isn't really much more to ask for.

You head home full and satisfied. Sure, Primavera Sound is a different beast altogether – the phrase heard most often in the days that followed – in terms of location and atmosphere, and it's hard to disagree, but Mad Cool is a young festival that can only grow and improve.

If competition breeds challenges of this calibre, then let abundance reign, in a historical moment dominated by the virtual reality of social media, in which young and old alike feel a great need to find points of connection. And a great need to hear good music live. As never before.

Ride the wave of great music

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This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Claudio Lancia, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.

Read the original in Italian · About the English edition

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