The Human League

July 15th in Valencia, 30 degrees at midnight and the air’s thick enough to choke on. But inside Jardines de Viveros, The Human League lit the place up like a circuit board on the verge of overload.

They didn’t bother easing us in. The first synth stabs of “Love Action” punched out of the speakers, Phil Oakey stepping into the lights with that deadpan Sheffield stare, still somehow cooler than anyone half his age. The beat dropped, the crowd roared, and suddenly the entire garden turned into a throbbing, glittering sweatbox.

Oakey’s baritone was a weapon all night—calm, commanding, almost detached—while Susan Ann Sulley and Joanne Catherall danced around him with harmonies so sharp they could slice glass. On “Mirror Man” and “The Lebanon”, they flexed their pop muscle, but there was grit in the gears too. “Seconds” came off like a cold warning from a dystopian future that felt way too close for comfort.

By the time “Human” rolled around, the pace shifted—Oakey crooning against the warm night breeze, couples clinging to each other like it was their prom song. But let’s be real: everyone was here for “Don’t You Want Me”. When it finally hit, it was carnage. Phones in the air. Beers flying. 5,000 people screaming “I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar…” like a battle cry.

This wasn’t nostalgia. It wasn’t polite. It was sweaty, electric, and loud. Four decades on, The Human League don’t play like an act hanging onto their legacy. They play like a band still chasing something—new sounds, new highs, maybe even the future they’ve been singing about since ‘81.

The Human League turned Valencia into a synthpop inferno. And they proved that electronic music, at its core, still has blood, sweat, and a whole lot of soul.

This concert is part of this years Conciertos De Viveros events. for more information: Conciertos De Viveros

Words and photos: Rhyan Paul