When does an adventure begin? How do you know you’re on one? And can you cultivate that feeling? Bring it into being? Manifest it as the Insta-life coaches and their disciples love to say.

I can think of one way. In the words of that great Gonzoist Hunter S Thompson, who was never far from a wild jaunt or mad caper into the unknown, “Buy the ticket, take the ride.”

So that’s what I did. Despite my listlessness at the thought of another solo trip (I have bought many a single ticket, dear reader, to Tallinn and far beyond), sometimes the gravitational pull of anticipation – no, let’s call it what it is, hope – lures you back on the road.

It’s been a while since I last crossed a border – 2019, in fact. I am in Porto to attend NOS Primavera Sound, now on its ninth edition and attracting more than 70,000 visitors from over 50 countries. But this place has been on my list for a while, a tranquil port city steeped in history, labyrinthine mystery, cobbled character and riverside charm.

There’s a gentle sway to proceedings here. Perhaps it emanates from the calming waters of the arterial Douro, which runs through the city. People go about their business in an unfussy and unforced manner, whether it’s the bakeries dispensing their fabled pasteis de nata, waiting staff sauntering around tables or locals meandering with nowhere in particular to be. It’s a world away from the cut and thrust of London.

The boats ferry people along, the bars and tavernas keep glasses topped and plates in rotation. Porto people share the exuberance and animation of their neighbours to the east, and not just the young metropolitan crowd. If only I could understand what some of the old dears are ranting about as they gesture so meaningfully with their hands and remonstrate to whoever will listen. The best theatre is all around us, in the streets.

But the tenor of Porto is otherwise warm and understated. With very few boisterous crowds, stag parties or boozy pedal car shenanigans. This is a place to explore on foot with your partner, friends or family in tow. One to savour in your own time.

And even though I have landed in peak season, there is still room to breathe. The population in the centre is around 230,000. Grande Porto (Greater Porto), which extends from Póvoa de Varzim in the north to Gaia and Espinho in the south, has more than 1.7 million inhabitants spread over two square kilometres.

I am a walker and have the flat size 12s to prove it. You will need decent footwear to contend with the steep craggy ruas and avenidas that ascend and wind down, swoop and cross over one another. Each is a potential detour, an invitation to happily get lost, especially in Ribeira, Miragaia and Cedofeita, west of the city centre.

But conserve your energy. Bunch your hitlist of destinations into specific locales and take rest in the shade when you can. There will be a café, meia da leite (like a flat white) or a refreshing glass of vinho verde waiting for you. Anyway, those carbs aren’t going to burn themselves. Bôla, bifana, paõ, pastel, they are all irresistible but will weigh you down.

It’s around 25-30º in June and a little sticky if you pound the pavement as I do. But see previous paragraph/note to self. Also, the late afternoon, tactical shower is essential for all you sweaty Betties out there.

My first full day out here was quite drizzly so to the museums I went. My first stop, heading west out of the centre from basecamp in Trindade, was a magical garden inspired by Alice in Wonderland and populated by these inflated mechanised characters and larger-than-life objects – from rabbits, bugs and elephants to books and exceedingly tempting wedges of cake.

How stunning this place must be when illuminated at night. But enchantment can also come by day, you know. It took me away for a moment. Then, like the White Rabbit in Carroll’s classic, I peeked at my pocket watch and thought, better get a move on. 

You could easily spend half a day wandering around Casa de Serralves, the art deco villa, Casa do Cinema, the verdant endless grounds sprinkled with sculptures by the likes of Olafur Eliasson, as well as the treetop walk, which suspends you in shades of green.

In the museum of contemporary art, there was a really enjoyable exhibition of six decades of work by Joan Miró, who I know more by reputation than experience. The great value of exhibitions like this is when a curator stretches your impression of an artist.

Your first image of Miró might be one of those mysterious paintings of iridescent figures and curious symbols on abstract backgrounds. But here we get to see his etchings, sketchings and sculptural work (a natural progression from paintings such as Apparitions and his 30’s pintura). All corporeal lines and dotted eyes comprising lengths of rug fabric and painted buckets respectively. I was also drawn to his collage work, those scrawls and swirls on prints of architectural monuments adorned with toreadors and bulls, for example.

Art lives far beyond the walls of institutions over here. You have the graffiti and illustrations that pop up out of nowhere as you plod around the city, occasionally bordered by the gorgeous purple Porto chrysanthemums that sprout from numerous corners and whose earthy scent wafts in your direction.

Look up, there’s one. And another.

If you have this thing for colourful patterned tiles like I do, then you are going to love Porto. Why not have a go at crafting one yourself in this Azulejos workshop? I ran out of time, unfortunately. 

I am less preoccupied by shopping over here but it’s in my nature to sniff out the best record stores on city breaks like this, so let’s see what’s out there. Supermarkets can be fun to wander around as you pick up your daily supply of water, cheap baked items (aka road food) and pretend to blend in. My favourite aisles are snacks for savoury, wheaty, crunchy sustenance, plus the dairy section to grab a smoothie to start my day. Razors are a little harder to come by at the moment, but who have I got to impress?

Let’s talk about the festival, then. It’s been postponed for the past few years, like most mass gatherings, so you could sense the mounting anticipation and giddy buzz building as I boarded the metro to Matosinhos Sul in the north-west of the city. All around me, groups of pasty Brits and lightly toasted Portuguese fizzing in their own way. The venue is Parque da Cidade, more than 80 hectares of lawns, lakes and woods. It’s one of the largest urban playgrounds in the country. This will do nicely, I thought.

Here's the thing about doing festivals solo. It’s bloody hard work. Not like cleaning toilets hard work, I admit, but more like this would be ten times better shared with your crew, meanwhile everyone is having a better time than you hard work. Nothing else to do but embrace your saudade.

Sure, you have little interactions with others as you bump into each other – “por favor” as you beckon someone to pass through and exchange smiles or compare notes in the queue while you wait for another Superbock. And there’s a tangible joy in a communal, open-air singalong.

But these moments are fleeting and you rarely scale the peaks. To add to the challenge, I overlooked the fact that NOS Primavera Sound is a night festival so if you decide to combine it with a city break then make sure you calibrate your batteries accordingly. And when I say night, I mean last DJ at around 4-5am. But on the flipside, you are untethered, able to act on a whim and really lose yourself in the music.

When I first saw the bill, it was the clutch of live artists and bands that really got me going. Several of them have been on the wishlist for years. Top of that list is Nick Cave who has been a real inspiration to me as a writer first and foremost. (Look out for a new book with Sean O’Hagan, coming soon.) Out to the Red Hand Files family: Cave’s epistolatory newsletter has become a font of meaningful correspondence and precious human experiences, peserving my sanity and nourishing my soul these past few turbulent years.

Two bits of advice I try to heed at festivals: get to the smaller stages and try what you don’t know. With that in mind, I wandered over the Binance stage where alt-rock royalty Kim Gordon was making the most appealing dirge with her band. Dressed in formal white shirt and black tie paired with black leather skirt, there was an unruly authority to her stage presence, fanned by the flood of reverb and pounding drums.

The mosh was definitely in effect. Hardly a whirling dervish but aggy in a mischievous way. Over at the larger Superbock stage, Sky Ferreira was screaming out angst-drenched ‘I don’t care’ anthems such as ‘Nobody Asked Me (If I was Okay’, slipping out of tune with wild abandon, as if to say “Bite me”.

I’ll be honest, all it takes is Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to perform ‘Jubilee Street’ and NOS Primavera Sound is guaranteed a glowing review. That’s what I came here for. After setting the course for the evening with ‘Get Ready For Love’, Cave punching the air on those first two words again and again with all his might, they rolled into mass favourites including ‘Red Right Hand’. The dark magus prowling the front of the stage with characteristic menace and shamanic fervour. There are few better at the business of possession and ecstatic release.

Here it comes. The song I played over and over after first encountering it in live form during the brilliant 2013 documentary 20,000 Days on Earth. Just thinking back to that performance now gives me shivers. That’s when you know you’re alive. When no two breaths are the same. As if being on the cusp on a moment that fires your synapses in a whole new way, floods your prefrontal cortex like a rushing stream to an scorched wasteland.

“I’m transforming, I’m vibrating well look at me now!” By invoking those very words, we reach his plain or damn near close to it. ‘Jubilee Street’ is the quintessential Cave song for me. Mournful yet defiant, haunting yet transcendent.

We are also treated to spirited renditions of other Bad Seeds standards including ‘City of Love’ and ‘Higgs Boson Blues’, Cave imploring those at the front to ‘put down your fucking cameras’ and do something more worthwhile … like feel the rhythm of his heart as it goes “boom boom BOOM”. When he slaps us, we love him for it.

Can I just add what a joy it is to see his long-time collaborator and right-hand man Warren Ellis gyrating and kicking out on stage as he wields his violin like an axe. They are one of the great musical duos. Their symbiosis is evident, as is the mutual love and respect as Cave embraces Ellis from behind, sinking into this wizardly mane and bushy beard. Bros forever. Ellis has a book out too, you know, about a piece of Nina Simone’s chewing gum and a whole lot more.

Right, just enough time to check another band that has eluded me again and again in London. Black Midi in thunderous form on the Binance stage, propelled by shirtless drummer Morgan Simpson. The crowd is here for it, though you sense that many of them haven’t experienced their furious cacophony and felt their hard-break turns before.

Listening more closely here, off record, connecting sound waves to body movements, you really appreciate how intricate their interplay is. Polyrhythmic, polyphonic … just poly. They can thrash and tear into you one minute, then meditate on a groove the next. ‘Ascending Forth’ is one of the best songs I have heard from a British band in years. We don’t hear it tonight. Next time…

It's well past the midnight hour and I return to the same stage for my kind of pop star – more sorceress than princess – Caroline Polachek. A day or two before, a few exasperated fans had voiced their surprise on Instagram about the schedule clash between her and Tame Impala. One person asking, “What ya’ll smoking?”

Not my problem. Polachek transfixed me in an instant when I first heard Doyou.world papa Charlie Bones play ‘Door’ on his essential breakfast show. Let’s be clear: aside from her alien aura, the up and away range and ethereality of her vocals, it’s the quality of her writing that really attracts me. These are great songs.

No one does it like Polachek – placing panging hooks into these strange, exhilarating stratospheres, these constellations of harmonies and moonbeam melodies. At NOS Primavera Sound, my love became 3D. There she is, resplendent and incantatory in a black lace outfit perfectly contoured from nape to waist, then billowing to the ground. Sorry, Caroline, I am seriously underselling your wardrobe here.

She moves with such grace and poise around the stage, in sweeping and dramatic overtures, around what looks like an undulating valley. Or is it the surface of some faraway planet? Does it matter?

At the front, at her feet, team Polachek attempts to mimic those on-beat head nods, those arms raining down like thunderbolts thrown from the heavens. This choreography is the doorway to rapture. We also get a nice story about the origins of the song ‘Parachute’, which is peak Polachek. Something about contemplating human existence in a dream, losing control as she’s dropped out of a military plane … and being ok with it. Even the way she talks about her songs has this mellifluous mystery to it.

I liked the set-up on stage. Polachek flanked by a drummer and bassist who added a little extra oomph plus a few accents to the backing tracks. Tonight was a big success and despite having more than 15 years of experience in the music business – as a founder member of Chairlift, writer for the likes of Beyoncé and now solo artist – you sense that she’s just getting started.

The plan was to finish off the night with a rave to Sherelle, one of London’s finest, but it was a bridge too far. Joy Orbison was also in the parque, I hear. Let’s see if we can push on tomorrow.

A little intermission first, if I may. When you come to Porto, do me a favour and observe how people walk. Not just the pace of plod but the obstinacy in refusing to change course. They will not be moved. I tried to approach this as an extreme challenge in nimble footwork – cobbled, craggy, steep terrain in high temperatures – but I’ll be honest, it wound me up.

My restlessness and relentlessness may be showing here. I tend to rush from moment to moment in search of the next discovery. I would not recommend this approach for a holiday. Aspire to be swift and decisive in thought and deed, yes, but trips like this do require a change of pace. And as the guests, we must adapt.

You could say this condition is an occupational hazard – the writer chronicling a solo journey. The holiday becomes an assignment. Without someone to push back or offer a counterpoint to your rhythm you simply revert to your basic instincts. I might do a walking tour or some other group activity and see if that provides a different vantage point or portal to the city. Or a change of pace, at least.

Fancy another cultural observation? Tough, you’re getting one anyway. But I will preface it by saying this gripe may be all of my own making. So I like to learn the local language when travelling. My fragile ego and earnestness won’t allow me to be the bumbling Brit who expects everyone to speak English. That’s why I have been committing to 30 minutes of Spanish almost five days a week on average since the pandemic arrived. There will no long-anticipated trip to South America until I am competent and confident.

One Duolingo course is enough at the moment. This is supposed to be a relaxing break, after all. Instead, I have been referring to blogs and assorted websites for useful phrases along with Google Translate to hone my woeful pronunciation. Clearly, someone should be sacked because I have been getting quite a few blank faces when I repeat what’s suggested.

The greatest indignity so far has been the supermarket cashier who looked down at me with disdain as she replied in English to my shopping patter. Like, “Oh no, you’re not bastardising my mother tongue. I won’t dignify it with a response em Português. Not on my watch.” She may just hate her job, to be fair. I decided to experiment and return the next day. No change.

Anyway, I shall persevere and continue adding to my list on Notes. You have the essentials “hola”, “bom dia”, “boa tarde”, “tudo bem”, “por favor”, “obrigado/a” and so on, but here’s the one I reach more most, usually in a self-deprecating and self-pitying manner: “Eu estou tentando aprender português” [“I am trying to learn Portuguese”].

My top tip is to lengthen your vowels. Indulge in lots of oooooos and aaaaaahs, ayyyyyys and eeeeeeeees. Of course, it’s not that simple. You have open, medium and closed vowels, for example. And it’s difficult to correctly perceive pronunciation based on how a word is written. This video is a useful introduction.

My key point stands, though. Move your mouth. Make the words sing and not drag in monotone. Play a character if you must. Channel your inner Mourinho (or Dier). “I cannot speak. If I speak I am in trouble…” 😂

Back to the festival. All the big names (to me, anyway) are delivering over here. King Krule adding his characteristic bite and guttural growl to proceedings on day two. There’s the all-out assault of ‘Half Man Half Shark’, the aching moan of ‘Alone, Omen 3’ and ‘Dum Surfer’, which I can’t help but leer and sneer along to. That ominous bassline underneath the jingle-jangle guitar chords s an irresistible combination.

A 9pm slot in a car park seemed just right for Archy and the boys. Following the gentle shoegaze of Slowdive on the NOS stage and Maria Jose Llergo’s sultry electronica landing somewhere between the flamenco sound system Ojos de Brujo and the taut minimalism of Ibeyi, it was time to escalate this situation.

And when saxophonist Ignacio Salvadores laid down his horn and started head-banging and launching himself around the stage – a bit like Ben Whishaw in this lively short – the flares went off.

Similarly, drummer George Bass pounded so hard that he almost wrecked his kit. A different beat to the impressive Todd Trainer of noise rock vets Shellac who kept me tapping away at the Binance stage earlier, but no less energy.

Now if there was any doubt I am blessed at this fest, the encore blew that all away. My beloved ‘Out Getting Ribs’ was the first music from Archy Marshall I ever heard. It still astounds me how much pathos and melancholy he managed to squeeze out of those verses at such a young age. And you could forget that video? It’s as if a gnarled barfly has possessed this pompadoured youth with his dark romanticism, a kid who’s just snuck out of school to do a screen test.   

 Lay me out across the grey/Hours, I should have kept at bay/
I had no chance to get away/I can't escape my own escape/
Even more when it's sweet to the taste

Out to the Northern lad in the bucket hat who was subtitling for me. The man knows his lyrics. Satisfaction levels may have peaked at this point. A friend and I were due to check Krule in London last year but the gig was cancelled due to you know what. Deep affection for this guy. A ride or die artist and a real coup for the festival.

While I am at the Cupra stage aka car park, let’s look back at Rina Sawayama, one of the unexpected highlights. I have listened to a track or two. They pop hard and her look is fierce. I know she is a role model for the LGBTQ+ community in particular, with a knack for connecting to the hearts and minds of her fans, voicing shared anxieties about self-worth and love. Repeat after her, all you lonely hearts: “I’m gonna love myself, cos I don’t need anybody else.”

But all this considered, I would never buy a ticket to her gig, which is my loss because she is a great performer. The sort of star who makes an event a communal experience and turns a gig into a spectacle. This is another advantage of coming to a festival with the scope of NOS Primavera Sound. I get the full Sawayama experience beyond the 1080 YouTube frame and it’s a thrill.

She’s got that sassy, confident delivery down and an array of power poses to strike. I may not be the core demographic but all these affirmations about loving yourself for who you are … they’re exactly what I/we need to hear today. The humour is on point too. In between dropping certified pop bangers such as ‘Comme Des Garçons’, Sawayama addresses us like we’re one big Pixels skwod in the chat.

The sound is huge. In fact, I can’t remember too many technical glitches throughout the festival. Well … one artist might have a problem with that. So that’s why someone scrawled “Justice for Sky Ferreira” on a banner ;)

What else can I relay from day two? Well, Beck had a mixed response of the NOS stage. I don’t see him as an arena-type headliner but he managed to keep the energy up in defiance with a mix of Odelay classics [‘Loser’ and ‘New Pollution’ sounding evergreen] and cuts from 2017’s Colours including ‘Dreams’ with its anodyne bounce.

I have nuff respect for Beck, his ear and his daring. I mean, how many artists could follow ‘Where It’s At’ (his encore and still thrilling), with ‘Round the Bend’ then ‘Hell Yes’ and ‘Morning’? But it feels like he’s lost his way a bit, drowned by insipid production. I’ll always be interested in what he’s doing. The line of the night award is all his though, talking about “new jack swing in balls”. Wow.

Pavement had an enormous crowd for their 00.45am slot but it lacked a little oomph and presence next to Nick Cave’s melodrama and stage craft the night before. Nevertheless, they went about their business with workmanlike devotion and expert control. Tracks such as ‘In The Mouth A Desert’ and ‘Cut Your hair’ still doing the business but c’mon, this is Friday night. It takes a little extra fire, charisma and theatre to hold wide-open spaces in those moments, and to charge them. You can’t lean on the songs or classic licks too much.

A mighty good time was had back at the Cupra – this must be my spot – watching Arnaldo Antunes run through his idiosyncratic and expansive take on post-Tropicalista rock and pop. A man of many tunes. The Portuguese really connected with him. I only wish my language skills stretched that far.

I was flexin’ to ‘Comida’, straight up and down. Music you can have fun with. I found a translation of the lyrics. Now it all makes sense. “What are you thirsty for?” Here are a couple of other notable tracks I have since come across: ‘Televisão’ with Titãs live in 1986 and ‘Vem Cá’ from 2103’s Lê Lê Lê. Please send me recommendations.

Just when I was about to describe NOS Primavera Sound as an orderly and mild-mannered affair, day three lands with probably the largest gate of the fest. There are long queues for the next Superbock well into the night and more congestion across the site. It’s the last chance to go hard and the people know it.

My warm-up quickly develops into something much greater. Groove machine Khruangbin going for the world record medley of covers in one set. They are all exquisitely rendered and reincarnated – they slap and they knock and they rock and they roll – but it would have been nice to ride out to one track for a good 10 minutes. Perhaps I missed that in the first half of the show.

After taking us everywhere from Dick Dale & His Del-Tones’ ‘Misirlou’, Isley Brothers’ ‘Footsteps in the Dark’ and Chris Isaak’s ‘Wicked Games’ to Crystal Waters’ ‘Gypsy Woman’ and Inner City’s ‘Big Fun’ – the latter two inciting lots of ‘daytime’ raving in the idyllic summer sun – the only track they opened up and allowed to breathe was Kool & The Gang’s ‘Summer Madness’. The ideal song to ‘Khruangbinise’.

Elsewhere, I was happy to catch Jamila Woods whose name I keep seeing on playlists and bills. She’s in the lineage of Earth mother Badu, via Zora Neale Hurston and other poet forebears, but with her own timbre and register. Credit to the band here for adding a little zhoush to ‘Giovanni’ and other songs. They lifted us that little bit higher.

I have to gush with home team pride now. Over at the Cupra, North London’s Little Simz has drawn a huge crowd for her first-ever gig in Portugal. This might also be my first time at a Simbi gig but I have been paying attention since those early Soundcloud drops. From that to tracks such as ‘Venom’ and ‘I Love You, I Hate You’, the growth is major.

Simz’22 radiates sky-high levels of professionalism and stage presence. Here’s an artist movin’ like she knows what she’s all about, looking slick as f&@k in the shades, sneakers, slacks and Rasta beanie for a crown. There’s instant rapport. Bars are hitting the dome right. I won’t give you the play-by-play but let it be known that the singalongs to ‘Woman’ and ‘Selfish’ (out to Cleo Sol) were very satisfying in that two-step kinda way.

Simz the arena star doesn’t just do bars. She does songs. And they really sink their hooks in you. Don’t get it twisted though. She can still throw down, like on the venomous ‘Boss’ from 2019’s Grey Area. And ‘Point & Kill’ is indeed dangerous. That Lagos rattle and thrum, it’s irresistible. Magnified tenfold when you’re in a melee of swerving, shuffling bodies.

Into ‘Fear No Man’ for the one-two combination, to blast out the juju. As my man Victor Corea notes on YouTube, “that transition is impeccable.” Correct. Maestro Inflo, take two bows. This track also contains one of my favourite couplets of recent years: “Put my mum on the cover of GQ, you can’t relate cos that’s summin’ that Gs do.”

‘101 FM’ had me pining for pirate radio and grimey London town – “top of the flats, top of the flats, top of the flats” – east to be precise but any point of the compass will do. Triumphant just about covers this set. I think that pre-gig massage and Duoro air might be the key to such calm and composure on your Portugal debut – protecting that energy, as she tells us – but maybe it’s just the innate greatness of Simbi.

Interpol on the main stage at nightfall was a curious one. Decades in the game, clearly master exponents at what they do, they carry the gravitas of a band forged and hardened in dive bars and on raucous tours. But could they rouse the crowd that’s swelling right up to the fringes on the hill?

Tracks such as ‘Obstacle 1’ from Turn On the Bright Lights and ‘Not Even Jail’ from 2004’s Antics had many a toe tapping away but their workmanlike manner left me wanting. They couldn’t shine as brightly as their formidable light show, but people at the front may have a different view of the set.

I confess, there hasn’t been much about the club spaces in this screed. Post 3am, my mind was fixed on hitching the bus back to Trindade, body beaten from hours of overexerting myself uphill in the grueling heat earlier in the day. And no morning stretches, tut-tut.

Apologies to the likes of Special Request as well as DJ Marcelle who I was keen to check. One spinner I did catch, and who won me over in seconds with their boundless energy and showmanship behind the decks, was Principe Crew’s DJ Firmeza. Let me state for the record, I got extra low for this guy and his blend of kuduro, batida and kizomba. We all did.

Surely I couldn’t coax any more movement from my stiff frame after that? Wrong. Out comes bodysuited Bad Gyal on the Superbock stage, gyrating and givin’ it up to dancehall each and every time as she lifts from Sean Paul’s ‘Gimme The Light’, Rihanna’s ‘Work’ and, wait for it, Double 99’s ‘Ripgroove’. Ok, stretches done.

Shall I get to the main main event? First, let me say that seeing the sea of people gather and move as one to Gorillaz at the NOS stage was euphoric at times. This is what we have been missing while cooped up in our yards. Even Damon Albarn, a veteran of gigs of all shapes and sizes over a 30-year career, seemed overwhelmed by what he was witnessing.

That didn’t stop him from pushing on, daring … no … demanding that we all take it up a notch as he repeatedly scaled the barriers to incite the crowd. That’s right, Murdoc is in the house with his megaphone, melodica and other toys. And a voice that is in incredible shape given all the abuse over the decades. Just think of all the times he’s belted out ‘Song 2’ alone?

I had forgotten how much music this gang has recorded with their supporting cast. Well, it has been more than two decades since the self-titled debut. There are two defining characteristics of this elusive ensemble: ideas for days and anything goes. Picking a set list must be great fun, while the fans play a constant guessing game as to which star is going to jump out on stage.

Looking back, the cheeky playschool bounce of ‘19-2000’ brought me right up. ‘Stylo’ resurrected the spirit of the legend Bobby Womack who appeared on screen, an effigy in black and white sitting in the booth as he records that inimitable hook, which comes out of nowhere.

The “Hahahaha” in ‘Feel Good Inc’ (featuring De La Soul’s Pos) reverberated across Parque da Cidade, as we collectively cast off our cares and frustrations for a night.

Several of Albarn’s Gorillaz songs lament the state of the world, reflecting concerns about the environment, politics or some other threat to humanity. He has a special gift for being able to find beauty on melancholy hill. And hope. Play ‘Clint Eastwood’, for example. You know how it goes…

Beck came out having a great ol’ time on ‘Lose Control’. On the subject of which, I was thinking back to his show in the context of this one and felt that he would really have benefitted from a few reinforcements on stage.

The background vocalists for Gorillaz were superb, particularly Michelle Ndegwa with her soaring solo on ‘Tomorrow Comes Today’ (I think). She connected us to a higher power, took us to another dimension with such majesty and incredible precision like Lisa Fischer does night after night with the Stones.

Just enough time to catch Earl Sweatshirt and his DJ running eerie beats and outcast confessions on the Binance stage to what seemed like a hardcore crew in the mini mosh before the rest of us drifted over. ‘2010’ is extraterrestrial, those frequencies prompting a little stargazing and contemplating.  

Gorillaz was the perfect band to conclude main stage festivities with an apt message. Enjoy the moment. A moment NOS Primavera Sound has created with care and attention to detail. The organisers have worked hard to cultivate a welcoming atmosphere in enchanting surroundings. It’s hard to fault the bill or how the festival has been run.

Only a couple of small gripes:

1.    It would be nice to have more food options scattered around the site rather than having to leave the action to head back towards the food court by the entrance/exit.

2.    There weren’t many buses back to the city centre and the queuing ‘system’ was more like a free for all.

I didn’t need an excuse to visit Porto but NOS Primavera Sound certainly gives me a good reason to return. That and a big match at Estádio do Dragão or a skinful of wine in the Douro. Até logo.  

While you’re here – Porto highlights

1. Perch at My Coffee Porto by Ponte Luis I overlooking the Duoro River. An incredible view and a good place to watch the world pass by as you scribble a few lines. Slurp on uma meia de leite accompanied by an acai bowl of refreshing yogurt with coconut, dates, and granola. Never neglect your gut, people.

2. The bifana em paõ at Conga is the perfect snack to snaffle on the go. A springy and squidgy bap filled with thin slices of pork cutlet marinated in a spicy sauce. You can’t go wrong for under €3.

3. After exploring the riverside in full sunshine, slip into the shade up R de São Nicolau in Ribeira and take a seat outside Adega São Nicolau. The whole menu sounds and looks irresistible but I opted for the famous filletes de polvo com arroz do mesmo (octopus fillets with octopus rice). Add a mixed salad and wash down with either a Superbock or a spritzy vinho verde. This was one of the most relaxing meals I had in peak season Porto but you need to get there at midday as it’s very popular.

4. I’ve said it before but let’s say it again. With Galeria Municipal do Porto closed for renovation, Casa Serralves is the place to appreciate contemporary art by established and less internationally well-known names. The site offers so much more than the art deco museum if you buy the €20 access-all-areas ticket. The gardens boast a ridiculous array of flora and fauna. Although I went there in the early stages of my trip on a rainy afternoon, it was a revitalising break from the more built-up city centre. Give yourself plenty of time, perhaps half a day.

5. Part of the fun on these trips is stumbling on a hidden gem but I also love to do a bit of research before heading out. Options, right. When looking for places to eat you wouldn’t believe the number of journalists, bloggers and critics who declare their recommendation as “one of the best in Porto”. That says a lot about the quality and range of cuisine here. So here’s one of mine: the whole grilled dorada (sea bream) at O Caseirinho. Cooked to perfection with only fresh garlic and a little salt, lemon and olive oil. It’s not really hidden. In fact, the constant stream of passers-by was dizzying but you can just eat inside or wait for a more secluded spot. Did I mention the vinho verde is good here?  

6. After a circuitous trek along the Doura – then up, around and back – I had a slightly mad dash to find a rooftop terrace to kick back on as the sun set. If you are looking for a lively spot then head up to Passeio das Virtudes where the music is pumping, revellers are sinking stacks of Superbocks and the rest, while musicians pepper the vibe with percussion and other instruments. I opted for cozy Mirajazz. You won’t believe your eyes after climbing that narrow flight of stairs. Around 9pm is golden crimson hour. Here, I made my wine discovery of the week: Soalheiro Alvarinho 2021 (the granit variety, which lends a certain complexity and invigorating aroma). “Mais refreschante” (the most refreshing) as I mangled to the waiter. Oh, how we laughed. Rooftop Flores, back towards Ponte da Arrabida is also very chill. All sundowners and sunloungers, if that’s your vibe.

7. Hop on the linha 1 tram to Foz up the north-west coast from Igreja de Sao Francisco in Ribeira. Stroll along the shore and lay down at either Praia do Carniero or Praia dos Ingeleses, close enough to feel the ocean spray as the waves roll in. Tops off and get comfy with your refreshment of choice. Then play Paco de Lucía’s ‘Entre Dos Aguas’ (my go-to beach paradise track). It was about as peaceful as I have felt in Porto. It’s like you’re tagging a beach holiday onto your city break. Well you are. I would also recommend something sweet from Tavi. I had this incredibly moist square of sponge cake with frutas vermelhas and another meia de leite, of course. Now you’re fueled up, the characterful old town of Foz Velha is just behind you. Go explore.

8. Catch some live music – you might call it jazz – at Maus Habitos on the fourth floor of an inconspicuous building on Rua Passos Manuel in downtown Baixa. It feels like you’re going up a rabbit hole to get there, past open floors of a car park and through the faint whiff of piss but when you get there, it’s all happening. Maus is a concept, not just a venue. They do projects, have a store, run a café and restaurant, dabble in festivals … and lots of gigs! €10 gets you a ticket plus a pizza or piadinas and a beverage. I caught the intriguing pairing of Kiko Pereira (vocals and electronics) with Miguel Ângelo on double bass and more electronics because you can never have enough sound effects in the ether. How would I describe the vibe? It was like your two hip uncles jammin’ on the corner, catching a vibe. “Jazz is dead and we are all a part of it,” proclaims Pereira, shades on, as he gets heavy for a minute. His style, tonight anyway, is somewhere between bop prosody and rich, resonant vocalising in the mold of a Mark Murphy or Oscar Brown Jr. His sweet and gentle melodies swelling and multiplying in a wash of reverb, echoes and loops. In between songs, we learn more about his Newark roots, which thrills the gaggle of Americans in the audience. But the commentary in Portuguese places us very much in the here and now. Ângelo is a supportive and judicious partner on stage. The less is more kind of musician. But I did look at him with that big old instrument in his hands and think, go on, really play that damn thing. Much of the set teetered on the brink of something significant but couldn’t quite take off. It did feel very live in its unpredictability, so what could you ask for? At one point I thought Pereira was taking a call mid-set. And he was, just using mic and toys to scare the sh*t outta his friend. That’s entertainment.

9. It took me a week to pluck up the courage but I finally jumped on one of these Bird scooters to visit Afurada, the old fishing village on the Gaia side of Porto. Let me explain myself here. My balance isn’t the best and when you don’t know where you’re going in a place with lots of cobbled streets and tourists, it didn’t feel like the right mode of transport, ok? I am an adventurer, honest. Now if you have an open stretch, like Cais de Gaia and Cais do Cavaco heading west along the river from Jardim do Morro metro station, then sign me up. It's €11 for a day pass. You could ride one of these all the way from Foz up the coast to Leixões harbour in Matosinhos. These scooters are everywhere, from metro stations and tourists sites to riverbanks. Go easy on the throttle whenever you start or accelerate. Afurada is a nice half-day trip from the city centre. Give yourself enough time to sample the seafood here and make sure you visit Interpretive Center of Afurada to learn more about the history of fishing in the village and ogle lots of artifacts including hooks, clothes, knots and weather instruments. The slideshow about the role of women in this community was delightful. 

10. Anyone who knows me and checks my posts on Instagram will know how much I love photography. It’s probably my second most cherished art form after music. So when I go abroad, I always look for the best museums … or jails in the case of Porto. The city’s 18th-century Cadeia de Relação is now home to the Portuguese Centre for Photography. There, I discovered the work of surrealist Fernando Lemos who was born in Lisbon but came of age as an artist in Brazil. The quote at the start of the exhibition sums up his approach quite well: “I draw as if I painted; I paint as if I were taking pictures; I photograph as I write; and where things flow, the sequence changes as thought changes.”

The permanent displays include one of the largest and most comprehensive collections of cameras in the world, amassed by history scholar António Pedro Vicente. It’s been a while since I saw one of those plastic keychain cameras or the Coca-Cola can variety.