Mad Cool Day 2
Boone to Reznor:
A lineup spanning generations
Day one of a festival is always a warmup, getting the hang of the stages and the timings, meeting new friends and stretching out the legs (and liver). I promise I’ll get to the music faster this time, but first allow me to highly recommend a Mediterranean hangover cure: coffee, olives, serrano ham, and a fat wedge of Spanish omelette on crackers. Ideally served bedside in your hotel room while you stare blankly at the ceiling and ponder why you haven’t started your article yet.
Today felt a little more serious. A classic Mad Cool anomaly had one of 2024’s best-selling artists – current chart-topper and somersaulting heartthrob – opening the main stage. So obviously, our first stop was:
Benson Boone
What Benson may or may not lack in songwriting depth, he more than makes up for with sheer talent and showmanship. We arrived more than 15 minutes early, yet my squad of three tall guys somehow managed to upset every teenage girl in a 20-foot radius. Word to the wise: if you’re six foot tall and attending a set featuring an ultra-athletic man with perfect hair, you are the enemy, though at least we had a good view.
Boone’s band came out first, then to a roar of screams, the man himself appeared and launched straight into Sorry I’m Here for Someone Else. Halfway through the opener, he pulled off the first of several backflips off the piano, casually, and the crowd absolutely lost it.
Mid-set, he paused to dedicate Momma Song and then Mr. Electric Blue to his parents, who were watching from the central tower. He pointed them out, thanked them for his upbringing, and I swear, everything about this guy feels so pure and polite, it’s disarming. Like, is this really the same man whose abs are currently dominating TikTok feeds?
Nothing proved this more than his brief encounter with our photographer (massive fan). After she waved at him as he walked by, Benson went out of his way to introduce himself:
- “Hi, I’m Benson.”
Charming smile, deep eye contact, soft handshake.
- “I love your outfit.”
And just like that, Kris spent the rest of the day melting into the cushy astroturf.
Alanis Morisette
I’ll be honest — I went into the Alanis set with exactly one frame of reference: 1995’s mega-album Jagged Little Pill. Turns out, I wasn’t alone. And she absolutely delivered. Seven tracks from the record, including Ironic and You Oughta Know, left me wondering if I’d been a secret Alanis superfan this whole time.
She stomped around the stage, whipping her hair and headbanging through instrumental breakdowns like it was still '95. She hasn't lost a step – the voice, the energy, the iconic howl – all still there.
If only I could’ve focused properly instead of dealing with a certain someone screaming “I MET BENSON BOONE!” every five minutes while holding her right hand aloft like it had been touched by the divine.
JET
Aussie rockers JET had an odd timeslot (the same stage and slot Iggy Pop had the night before) which meant big expectations and stiff competition from other stages. But we linked up with our new Mad Cool crew at the perfect spot: close enough to feel the sweat, far enough to dance freely as a group of 20.
JET were pure party fuel. They kicked us off with She’s a Genius and leaned hard into the hits – exactly what we needed. Look What You’ve Done slowed things down for a brief emo interlude before they launched into an AC/DC cover, It’s a Long Way to the Top, and continued with the classic 1–2 punch: Are You Gonna Be My Girl and Rollover DJ.
We didn’t want to leave, but something fresher was calling from Stage Three. A quick pint (Mad Cool never has bar lines – God bless Spain) and a half-drunken sprint later, we made it to the front for...
Artemas
Sweaty. Buzzing. And very ready. Artemas stepped out, guitar slung over his shoulder, Madrid heat visibly dripping down his face, and launched into a set that sounded way gnarlier than his TikTok persona suggests.
Live, his industrial hyperpop leaned far more Nine Inch Nails than trending-audio-core. With a full band and gritted energy, he surprised the hell out of us. The final stretch was gold:
If You Think I’m Pretty had everyone in their feelings.
Southbound brought the bounce with its dirty, grinding beat.
Dirty Little Secret hit like a sweat-drenched anthem.
And then finally came, I Like the Way You Kiss Me, the viral mega-hit that put him on the map, yet somehow felt like the night’s quietest triumph. Not because it lacked power, but because everything leading up to it had already raised the bar so high, it barely stood out among brilliance.
After the show, Artemas was all smiles: humble, soft-spoken, and genuinely grateful. We shook hands, complimented the set, and watched him disappear into the night, probably to catch NIN like the rest of us.
Kaiser Chiefs
If their truck driver is anything to go by, Kaiser Chiefs are the nicest band on the planet. Our photographer mistook the guy for their manager and still walked away with a cool story and a new best friend.
The band took the stage ready to party, setting the exact tone we’d hoped for. Between sets, we reunited with our crew and were now bouncing like lunatics to Everyday I Love You Less and Less, Ruby, and a chaotic cover of Blitzkrieg Bop. The 5 piece is celebrating 20 years of Employment, their debut masterpiece and they’ve still got it. Two decades on, Kaiser Chiefs remain the kings of pub-rock joy and football chant bangers. Long may they reign.
Nine Inch Nails
Now, Trent Reznor and Nine Inch Nails have always been heroes of mine, so I was looking forward to this set all weekend. Luckily, Kaiser Chiefs had blasted out the hit I Predict a Riot early, so we had time to race off for a pre-show beer. Interestingly, we decided to duck into the Stage 5 tent to access the bar, where we were treated to the strange image of a band called Battlesnake parading across stage in some kind of medieval priest costume. We weren’t there for long, but from our brief encounter we’d call them a poor man’s King Gizz – and that’s no insult. The name is a clear nod to Rattlesnake, with Aussie rawness shining through both sound and lyrics: unhinged, frantic and loose in the best way. They’re an absolute spectacle to watch. Expect chaotic, sweaty, grinning madness. If you don’t know them, give them a listen. And live? They’re a hoot.
That brief interlude aside, we were now positioned faithfully for the NIN opening. Smoke billowed out, the lights came on, and the band launched into Year Zero track The Beginning of the End, thumping drums and squealing electric guitars backing Trent's blistering vocals. Next up was a personal favourite, Wish, with its ripping guitar, and then straight into March of the Pigs. We were three songs in, and my voice was already completely gone, but my heart was full.
It did shock me however how small the crowd was for such a huge band, it really felt that most of the day's guests had shown up for Benson and Noah Kahan, then boosted home once they were done. I suppose that’s the trade-off when tickets are just €200 for a full weekend stacked with talent.. in a city like Madrid, where AC/DC can sell out an arena the same week, even iconic acts can end up underappreciated. Oh well, more space for those of us still celebrating 1994.
One slight disappointment that’s worth mentioning, however, was that NIN couldn’t bring their full touring light show — the iconic square of lasers they perform beneath, alongside touring mates Boys Noize. That visual spectacle would have been truly epic. Still, they delivered a tighter, more hit-driven set, perfectly tailored to the festival crowd. They closed with Hurt in an emotional finale, its arc carrying the audience from quiet introspection to a powerful, cathartic release, leaving everyone swept up in the moment and sealing the set with unforgettable intensity.
Foster The People
With just ten minutes to spare before closing time, we managed to dash over to catch Foster the People belt out Sit Next to Me and, of course, Pumped Up Kicks. Even in that short time, their bright, sun-drenched sound lifted the crowd one last time – a welcome jolt of indie nostalgia to end the night. They’re 100% a band who deserve a full hour of our undivided attention, but with NIN tickets going for £100 the last time they were in London, being able to see both acts in one evening felt like the best of both worlds.
By the time we stumbled out, legs aching and hearts full, Madrid had cooled but the festival buzz still clung to us like smoke. Day two had been a blur of icons and newcomers, indie sparkle and industrial grit, the kind of lineup that makes you feel lucky just to witness it all. And while I can’t speak for everyone, I’ll say this: if every day at Mad Cool is this chaotic, sweaty, and absurdly good, then I never want to leave. See you tomorrow. Kris, (heavily shaping these writeups) will probably still be thinking about Benson Boone.