Crack

Rather tenderly, Crack finds its way to Sonar By Day by early evening on Saturday. As an act to gently lower yourself back into the action from all manner of hangovers, you can’t get much wronger than Shangaan Electro.

A South African phenomenon, they take the musical concept of the Shangaan people of Soweto, combining their sound with electronic production techniques. The origins of this style were to make people dance as fast as possible, hence speeds approach, and sometimes surpass, 180bpm, while onstage two men clad in bright orange jumpsuits and feathers gyrate about the stage. It’s very interesting, but all a bit much.

Hotly-tipped Londoner Actress's set stumbles rather than explodes into life - the impact of dressing like Raiden from Mortal Kombat is slightly dampened if you’re just going to walk around onstage with the lights on like that, plus the appearance of a laptop desktop on the main screen double-clicking on a file presumably marked ‘Actress Visuals’ also detracts from the effect somewhat. But never mind, he soon gathers momentum, his difficult to define rhythms sometimes wonky, always warm, getting the crowd nodding along nicely as he gently sways behind his laptop. An unique and talented figure on the UK scene. Much, well, hyped London/Berlin duo Hype Williams, meanwhile, fail to create much of an impact, their lo-fi beatsmithery not translating to the festival crowd, and crooning vocals occasionally veering sharply off-key.

And so, to the Night. This time catching the bus (Oh, god bless you, bus), Crack arrives having only missed the first few minutes of Chris Cunningham’s oddly early set. Ever associated with the Cornish visionary who had both wowed and scarred us on the previous night, it is surprising to walk into a relatively polite affair, which is of course visually striking but musically warm and accessible. This soon changes in a passage depicting a girl on a hospital bed, her eyelids, lips and limbs jerked back and forth by an invisible force, before descending in a series of unsettling and disarming close ups of sharply edited human parts, both inside and out. This fascination with flesh and the body continues through a beautifully-filmed sequence of a naked male and female locked in a punishing fist fight, musically every bit as jolting as the on-screen footage, all the while interspersed with a gigantic pair of wobbling tits. What then follows is essentially a Chris Cunningham Greatest Hits segment, playing a re-edited version of his seminal Rubber Johnny film, and even including clips from his renowned PlayStation advert. A deep and dubby closing number, proving Cunningham has a grip on more than just the dark arts, brings a tasteful end to a set which, while may have proved a tad too much for some of the crowd, was a staggering display from one of the most innovative artists of the modern era.

In the limited amount of Shackleton we manage to catch he proves typically hypnotic with his deep, deep basslines blending into almost tribal rhythms. While it seems clear this is building to something potentially special, the temptation of witnessing one of the ultimate party bands on the stage next door proves too much. And so to Buraka Som Sistema we go, and are certainly vindicated in our choice, the Portuguese producing a tireless and vivid set, the large crowd bouncing as one to smashers Sound of Kuduro and Kalemba (Wegue Wegue), and a mass of feral girls joining them onstage in a shambolic and joyful climax.

Under the force of much persuasion, the next act up is Magnetic Man. And in truth, Crack’s opinion coming away from the show is very much what it was before it began. There’s just nothing of excitement there - nothing interesting or original, just no point. Seeing Benga, Skream and Artwork bounce away behind their laptops, shit-eating grins spread across their face, all clad in their own group’s t-shirts - something just doesn’t add up. I mean, Skream? Such a talent and with so much to offer, can he truly believe that this music is as good as he can produce? And, for the first time this weekend, it isn’t even loud enough, Crack merrily chatting away through half the set from near the front.

Next to SonarCar, that fancy flashing funfair stage, where Egyptrixx opens up the Nightslugs showcase. His Bible Eyes release stands out as one of the most interesting they have released - and this being a label which has produced some of the finest electronic releases of the past 12 months. The young Toronto producer’s minimal and warped scapes contain a certain darkness, yet are more than dancy enough to have hands above heads at this hour, while the descending synth of his debut record’s title-track is intoxicating.

And so to the outdoor SonarPub to end our festival fittingly in the presence of two iconic figures in modern electronic music. Paul Kalkbrenner’s stage set-up consists of three large, glowing angular shapes, one either side of him and him atop another, and it’s from this lofty perch that he illustrates his remarkable command of the dancefloor. His techno sounds throb and pulse, and it seems that this was the performance for many Sonar-goers, the crowd from front to back in awe of his every move.

As the sun rises, it is left to James Holden to wrest some final shreds of energy from the faithful. His technical and glitchy set is well received, though the previous mass-hysteria is replaced by a more sedate, almost surreal atmosphere below the pure white 6 a.m sky. As Holden begins to wind down, a shuffling, broken walk back through the arena towards that beautiful, wonderful bus back to bed unveils the carnage Sonar has left in its wake: cans, clothes, bodies, utter wreckage. A perfect shambles. Just amazing.



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Words: Geraint Davies

Photo: Juan Sala

http://2011.sonar.es

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