Thursday, Mad Cool Festival 2025, Madrid • Festivals • DIY Magazine

London could learn a lot from Madrid; aside from the delicious food, unhurried lifestyle, and more nocturnal existence (siesta, anyone?), the Spanish capital has it sussed when it comes to summer festivals. Where the British seasonal experience usually involves mild heatstroke, bad tan lines, and gobbling down a sad portion of chips between sets, Mad Cool - now in its eighth year - seemingly predicts what punters will need before they even know themselves. Sun cream top-up? Check. A dedicated, seated food court area? Check. A giant, water-spraying, cool-down fan? Er, check.

And here, none of that goes amiss. It may be 6pm when the first acts of the day take to their respective stages, but it’s still a sweltering 37°C. What better thing to do, then, than jump around in a black tent to thrashing West Coast punk? Now 12 years on from their debut LP, there’s an air of slight contradiction to FIDLAR, cast as they are in the mould of troublemaking skater boys, whose trademarks are furious tracks about youthful dissatisfaction and intoxication. That being said, these songs have lost none of their potency. Between flying pints, crowd surfing, and a “chicas only” mosh pit, the crowd at this intimate stage isn’t stationary for a second; and, though undeniably scrappy, frontman and guitarist Zac Carper has everyone in the palm of his hand, be it roaring back the nursery rhyme-like refrain of ‘40Oz. On Repeat’, or leaping up from the ground at the drop of raucous closer ‘Cocaine’. Between the chaos, there’s even time for a toe-curling, tongue-in-cheek snippet of ‘Wonderwall’. In Carper’s word: “donde es la biblioteca?”

Back out in the sunshine, a heartening period of respite comes courtesy of Conor Oberst’s Bright Eyes, who are valiantly trying to break down cultural divides via some choice between-song stage chat (“This one’s called ‘The Wheels On The Bus Go Round and Round’,” he quips, to a sea of interested but puzzled faces). Unshared references aside, theirs is a full-bodied, far-reaching set that shows off their melodic folk-rock at its finest, the banjo-led, arms-around singalong of ‘First Day Of My Life’ proving to be one of the day’s most wholesome moments.

Over at the festival site’s second stage, meanwhile, rock icon Iggy Pop is bringing no little drama to today’s sunset; although the start of his set is hampered by technical difficulties - which pop favourite Gracie Abrams also graciously overcame earlier - he appears entirely unphased by the hitch, stalking the stage and punching the air, as if these movements come more naturally than breathing. There’s a palpable sense within the gathered crowd that we are indeed in the presence of a legend (not least because The Stooges frontman is, at 78, still more than capable of letting it rip), and the punchy one-two of ‘The Passenger’ and ‘Lust For Life’ - as iconic a double-header as we’re likely to get all weekend, bar nothing - only serves to cement this status.

Say what you want about Muse, but one thing, on this evidence, is undeniable: Matt Bellamy and co. sure know how to put on a show. No strangers to Mad Cool, having performed here back in 2022, the Devonshire rockers are headlining once again in place of Kings Of Leon, who were forced to cancel their summer 2025 touring commitments due to injury. And tonight, stepping in like pyro-flanked superheros, Muse understand the assignment exactly. Standing under a canopy of huge, lantern-like boxes, which rise and fall in formation as lights and lasers refract at all angles, the band deliver a set stacked with Guitar Hero-esque anthems that, really, were made to played on stages this big. Between the headbanging and rabble rousing, Bellamy finds time to channel his inner Freddie Mercury for a piano-led, Queen-like segment, before the band cannon back into full-throttle with the ripping opening riff of ‘Supermassive Black Hole’. There’s bells and whistles, and then there’s this: even if Bellamy’s wearable light-up jacket might be one step too far into the realm of cliche, Muse are experts in the field of festival headline-worthy showmanship.

The beauty of Mad Cool’s start-late, finish-late programme is that, even post-headliner, the site is still buzzing with activity. And for those with enough stamina to keep dancing until ‘90s stalwarts Weezer take to the stage at 00:40, it may well be a case of saving the best until last: at ease with the audience, uncharacteristically chatty, and sounding superb, the band - helmed by the endearingly un-rock’n’roll Rivers Cuomo - are apparently riding high after a triumphant recent turn at Glastonbury. Interspersing cuts from across their discography (with most attention paid to their 1996 debut ‘Pinkerton’ and 2001 self-titled effort) with snippets of well-meaning, broken Spanish and winking lyrical nods to tonight’s locale (the outro of fan favourite ‘Beverly Hills’ is aptly adjusted), Weezer storm through a set that finds them not only asserting, but expanding, their legacy. Because as much as this crowd consists of die-hards who’ve loved them for decades, it also contains a healthy (and not entirely expected) contingent of younger fans - people kitted out in teal and green who, though likely not born when it came out, can jump along to euphoric closer ‘Buddy Holly’ with the best of them.