With the notable exception of Motörhead, no British band has caned it quite so hard and consistently as Primal Scream. Confirmation of this was supplied a few years ago when, asked if he’d met anybody more off their tits than himself, Shaun Ryder cacklingly replied, “Yeah, fookin’ Bobby Gillespie!”

Formed in 1983 as a Glaswegian riposte to Love and The Byrds, the Scream Team’s musical mutations have been directly linked to their pharmaceutical intake.

“If the first album was acid and the second one speed,” Gillespie once acknowledged, “then the third phase was E.”

This “third phase” was of course Screamadelica, an album that had just as much impact on the ‘90s as Nirvana’s Nevermind and Massive Attack’s Blue Lines. It was also the cue for even greater hedonism, with the band debunking to Memphis to record the Dixie Narco EP and developing a taste for cocaine, washed down with copious amounts of Jack Daniel’s. Then came the brief flirtation with ketamine which, in their leader’s words, left them “like a walking battlefield.”

I’m telling you this because, despite reports of them heave-hoing the Class A’s, Gillespie looks like he’s just won the Olympic gold medal for Getting Twotted. The disheveled hair, gaunt face and thousand-yard stare…they can mean only one thing!

“Yeah,” he confesses, “I’ve a young son who wants his daddy to wake up when he does, which is usually four o’clock in the fucking morning,” he sighs. “I love him to bits but, y’know, there are days when you’d gladly swap everything that’s good in your life for an extra few hours in bed.

“Sleep deprivation is like drugs – there have been weeks recently which feel like one long acid comedown, but the positives definitely outweigh the negatives.”

Does Bobby’s embracing of fatherhood extend to nappy changing and, if so, did he realise poo could be that colour before wee Wolf’s arrival?

“ (Looking more uncomfortable than a man who’s just had a lobster dropped down his boxers) Er, ‘Yes’ to the first question and, ‘No, It never crossed my mind’ to the second. Well, I knew it varies according to what they eat but I didn’t realise the colours were quite so, um, vivid. This interview’s getting very psychological!”

They don’t call me Sigmund Clark for nothing. Before Gillespie reveals all about the Primals’ new album, Evil High, could he clear up the small matter of Mani supposedly quitting the band earlier in the year? A situation that was brought to our attention by none other than Ian Brown.

“What did he say?”

Let me consult my notes. Okay: “He’s just left Primal Scream. Am I certain? Absolutely, 100% certain. The last time I spoke to Mani he was sending two kids to dangle that Gillespie out the window. He’s in a new group now, man, called Scorpio Killers. It’s him and a couple of young lads sounding like The Stooges.” There then followed dark mutterings about money and bank accounts.

“I think he got his sums wrong or something. You’ll have to ask him,” Gillespie sniffs.

Actually, we did and were told by the boy Mounfield: “Ian caught me in full rant. The beef is sorted!”

So all is sweetness and light, then?

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine,” his bandmate insists. Assembled over the past year in the band’s own Bunker studio, Evil High finds the Primals blending the all out sonic attack of their last album, Xtrmntr, with the beat-y goodness of Screamadelica. A stroll down memory lane or just where their head is at the moment?

“We never think about what we did last. We just go forward and do new stuff and the past is the past. It’s fucking anarchy, man. We do things our way, fuck anybody else.”

You can make your own mind up when Evil High hits the racks on August 5th, but I for one buy into that explanation. There may be a touch of the former glories about ‘Deep Hit Of The Morning Sun’ and ‘Skull X’ - “That’s short for skull exploding. A fucking guitar holocaust, I love it” - but the rest of the record sounds like nothing you’ve heard before. A state of affairs that has a lot to do with a Mr. K. Shields. Talking to hotpress recently, Alan McGee said part of the Primals’ genius is the way they’ve marshaled the My Bloody Valentine man’s volatile talents.

“No, nobody marshals Kevin Shields,” Bobby qualifies. “He’s a law unto himself. I think Kevin Shields is a genius. He does what he wants when he wants. He’s a lovely fella.”

So you don’t require a Ph.D. in psychology to get the best out of him?

“No, we’re friends. It’s simple. He’s a nice person.”

McGee also tells a great story about himself, Gillespie, Mani and former Primals manager Alex Nightingale bumping into Bono and going, “Never mind Third World Debt, what about Kevin Shields Debt?” The underlying theme being that a word in the right corporate ear from U2, and their Island Records labelmate would be freed from his financial shackles.

“What happened is that we met Bono in a bar in New York at the time he was over there trying to speak to Clinton and the World Bank. Alex said, ‘It’s all very well and noble trying to cancel Third World Debt, but what about Kevin Shields? He wants to be dropped. Can you help him?’ Bono’s reply - it’s quite funny, this - was, ‘Let’s not lose perspective on this, a deal was done!’ (Laughs uproariously) I think Kevin has managed to get off Island now, which is good. Even when My Bloody Valentine ceased to exist, they still wouldn’t drop him or give him any money. I suppose they’d given him a lot and hardly got anything in return. Whatever, he’s happy now ‘cause he’s a free agent.”

I’m not suggesting that they’ve turned into the Bruce ‘n’ Tarby of indie guitar rock, but Evil High does find Primal Scream hobnobbing with their celebrity chums. Having cameoed in their 1997 ‘Kowlaski’ video, Kate Moss goes one step further and sings on the cover of Lee Hazelwood & Nancy Sinatra’s ‘Some Velvet Morning’.

“We gave her a tape of the song and she fucking loved it,” her duet partner enthuses. “Her voice is really European, like a young Nico. She’s into Iggy and classic Rolling Stones like Exile On Main Street...all the good rock ‘n’ roll stuff.”

Was there any, shall we say, electronic enhancement of her warblings?

“No, not at all. Her voice is great. Her timing’s spot on, which probably comes from her being a good dancer.”

Another surprise is the involvement of Robert Plant who blows up a storm on ‘The Lord Is My Shotgun’.

“Robert lives near our studio and we’re always having a chat,” Gillespie explains. “I asked him ‘Would you like to play some harp on a psychedelic blues number we’ve got?’ and he said, ‘Sure. I’ve got to go to America, but when I get back I’ll come in. What key’s it in?’ ‘G’. ‘Will you settle for C?’ ‘Done!’ We ran the song past him once and he nailed it second take, blowing like a motherfucker.”

Was he familiar with the Primals’ oeuvre?

“Five years ago, when Page & Plant were playing in London, I gave him Kevin Shields’ mix of ‘If They Move...Kill ‘Em’, and a week later there was a call to the studio saying, ‘I love the EP. Would you guys like to come and play with me and Jimmy in Eastern Europe?’ This is the singer with Led Zep! I don’t remember exactly why but the gigs fell through. A shame ‘cause apart from being one of the great rock ‘n’ rollers, he’s a lovely guy.”

Rather less unexpected is the return to the fold of Andrew Weatherall, the man who took a throwaway riff from the first Primal Scream album and morphed it into the mighty ‘Loaded’. The intervening 11 years have done nothing to diminish his talents with ‘Autobahn 66’ an acid daze anthem of epic proportions.

“It’s the best thing we’ve done since ‘Higher Than The Sun’,” Gillespie states matter-of-factly. “It’s an absolute classic. When you hear the track, you’ll be blown away. It’s as good as Kraftwerk. It doesn’t sound like them but it’s got that melancholic, beautiful driving feel.”

Weatherall also weaves his considerable magic on ‘A Scanner’, a gentle bleeper which relegates Gillespie to the subs bench.

“Big deal. Doesn’t matter. My ego...I don’t feel I’ve got to sing on it. That’s how bands don’t last.”

There was much gnashing of tabloid teeth last year when it was revealed that Primal Scream were working on a song called ‘Bomb The Pentagon’. Conveniently glossing over the fact that it was penned prior to the September 11 outrages, editors and rentaquote MPs joined forces in demanding that they be banned/tried for treason/have their testicles cut off. 10 months on and its omission from the Evil High track-listing suggests a sharp U-turn.

“‘Bomb The Pentagon’ was actually a line in a song called ‘Rise’, which is on the album but no longer contains that lyric. It was too specific. It would’ve been tied to a particular place and time, which was never the intention. The whole song’s not about dropping bombs on the Pentagon - it’s a kind of psychedelic rant with lots of different things and images in there. You know what I’m saying? It might have been funny if all that hadn’t happened but, even then, I thought it was a bit sensational and obvious. Rock ‘n’ roll needs to have an air of mystery about it. It would’ve detracted from not only the song but the rest of the album as well.”

Hating their foreign policy’s one thing, but do Primal Scream share the Manics’ general disdain for America?

“It’d be nice to sell a lot of records in the States - one because it’d make me richer, and two because a lot of my favourite music comes from there. We did a U.S. tour a couple of years ago and had a great time. What I wouldn’t be up for is one of those 70, 80 date jobbies that turn you into a vegetable. They’re so fucking mundane. Playing New York and Chicago’s okay, but I have no desire to meet ‘n’ greet the owner of Sam Goody’s Records in Boise.”

That’s going to go down like a tonne of Six records with our Idaho readers! While too busy scoring Hollywood movies to join them in The Bunker, David Holmes okayed the reworking of the track Gillespie sung on Bow Down To The Exit Sign, ‘Sick City’.

“Holmer’s a fucking amazing guy. I was gonna give him a call to see if he wanted to hook up, but apparently he’s back in LA working on a film. We did a lot of hanging out in New York (starts giggling) which was fun.”

Yes, I’ve heard a couple of the unprintable stories. Was it the Bleach Boy that turned Primal Scream onto the genius of Sun Ra, or vice versa?

“He wanted to make a record with the surviving members in Philadelphia. Anyway, I think our discoveries were made independently of each other. I saw Sun Ra in 1991 at Ronnie Scott’s in London and it was fucking amazing. They carried him on, like he was going to be crucified, and then off again after he’d blown the shit out of his clarinet. Shortly afterwards he had a stroke and died.

“The only thing which compares to that is the gig we did with George Clinton and the P-Funk Allstars back in 1994. There was fucking 36 of them on stage and, well, they tore the Brixton Academy apart. I swear I saw one of the guys climb along the walls like Spiderman. Either that or I was high.”

One suspects the latter. Diehard fans will already be au fait with the machinations of their Chalk Farm studio-cum-club house, but for the uninitiated how does a day at The Bunker pan out?

“Me and Andrew Innes go there every day from 12 till 6, and whoever else turns up turns up,” he reveals. “It’s a good band - you’ve got Mani, Throb, Martin Duffy, me and Innes. Then Shieldsy mixes and plays live. Jagz and Weatherall do their bit as well. That’s the best fucking team squad in Britain!”

New albums are all very well and fine, but what Hot Press readers really want to know is Gillespie’s take on his beloved Celtic and Rangers joining the Premiership.

“We were talking about this today coming over on the plane. Can you imagine what the violence would be like if they were admitted? They’d become the biggest games of the season for all the hooligan crews. Here’s a scenario for you - Millwall get promoted to the Premiership and bring their neo-Nazi skinhead following with them to Celtic. Sorry, that’s not going to work.”

Long-suffering readers may recall that the last time Bobby and myself met, we spent a rather long time discussing obscure punk records. I’m contractually prevented from uttering the words “Johnny” and “Moped” again, but there must be other dusty gems we can prattle on incessantly about?

“Well, the ones I’m listening to at the moment are Alex Chilton ‘Flys On Sherbet’; anything by Townes Van Zandt; The Only Ones Even Serpents Shine; The Saints ‘This Perfect Day; and The Dead Boys’ ‘Sonic Reducer’. A mate of mine, Grant Flemming, was in the band Stiv Bators had after The Dead Boys, Lords Of The New Church. They shared a house in L.A. which had Stiv in one room shooting up all night, Brian James awake all day drinking in another and Grant in the middle probably doing both!”

There you go, five records to get jiggy with this summer. More frolics are to be had on Sunday July 14 when Bobby Gillespie & Co. take to the main stage at Witnness.

“We’re on the same night as Oasis, which is asking for trouble,” he deadpans. “I don’t know if it’s us leading them astray or the other way around, but whenever we’re in the same place, strange things happen.”

It’s one for the Mani, two for the show!

A word of advice for anybody who’s thinking of picking a fight with Primal Scream. Don’t. Well, not unless you’re prepared to have mad Mancunians waving steak-knives at you.

“We had a huge fucking fight in Austin, Texas,” reveals the Northern blade merchant in question, Mani. “One of the Sony people had taken us to a posh steak restaurant for a slap-up feed. We were having a ball till these three rednecks came in and turned the TV above our heads on so they could watch the basketball. We switched it off and said, ‘Look guys we’re trying to eat and have a meeting here.’ They completely ignored us and put it back on, which was Innes’ cue to go, ‘It’s a fucking girls’ game, anyway!’ Chesticuffs ensued and then Innes, connoisseur that he is, walloped the ringleader over the head with our most expensive bottle of red wine. Nanoseconds later this geezer’s got his hands round Innes’ neck trying to strangle him; James Hunt and Throb are jumping over the table to drag him off; and I’m threatening to slice his two mates up with my steak-knife if they don’t fuck right out of it.

“The police arrive and, well, we’re going to jail until this little old lady who’s celebrating her wedding anniversary goes, ‘I saw it all officer. These English lads were minding their business when him, him and him started roughing ’em up.’ After the cops had gone, she gave us a card and said, ‘Me daughter’s one of the biggest criminal lawyers in America. I’ll give her a call if you want and see if she wants the case!’ Which she did! That’s the sort of shit you get into when you’re on the road.”

A cautionary tale for any Fairyhouse locals who are thinking of taking the Scream Team on when they arrive in for Witnness. A gig that the band started limbering up for last week with back-to-back shows at London’s Shepherds Bush Empire.

“Gillespie – the jealous Scots cunt – said, ‘You won’t be able to watch England in the World Cup ‘cause we’ve got these dates to rehearse for’, but we nailed the entire set in three days. Apologies for blowing our own trumpet, but we’re shit hot at the moment. The first show, as you’d expect, was a bit nervy but the second was fucking amazing. Saptal Ram, who was just out of prison, stayed up partying all-night and then watched the England/Brazil game with us.”

How was he?

“In fine form. For somebody who’s had 15 years of his life stolen from him, that is. He still reckons the state owes him a little bit of something.”

As one would. There was an added treat for Saptal when the Primals were joined on stage by former Jesus & The Mary Chain man Jim Reid.

“We’re trying to bully him into doing Witnness with us,” Mani reveals. “He was looking pretty bored and up for it the last time I saw him, so who knows? We’ve a new song, ‘Detroit’, that Gillespie didn’t think suited his voice, so we got Jim to do it instead. I made a new bassline up for it the other day which has changed the texture of the song, so I dunno whether it’s gonna make it onto the album or be saved for a B-side.”

While “glad that we’ll have a proper khazi to go in rather than one of them portaloos”, Mani has fond memories of his own festival-going days.

“What was my first one? Oh yeah, I went to the Deeply Dale Festival in Rochdale and saw a load of punk bands like ATV. We tramped over some fields and jibbed in for nowt – something which me and me mates did every time at Glastonbury. I’ve a good mind to go along next year and prove that this new fucking fence of theirs isn’t as great as they think it is!”

Little did young Gary Mounfield realise that one day it’d be him up there on stage rather than ATV.

“I played some mad fucking festivals with the Stone Roses,” he reminisces fondly. “In America on the Second Coming tour, we were sandwiched inbetween Sheryl Crow and Duran Duran which was as awful as it sounds. It picked up afterwards when all their birds – including the bassist’s missus, I think it was – came and hung out in our dressing-room. Simon Le Bon wasn’t impressed but, y’know, we can’t help being red-hot fanny magnets!

“Spike Island was memorable for the right reasons – it was our own thing and all our mates from home were there. Another amazing gig was Féile in Pairc ui Chaoimh. It was one of the last times the Roses went on and really did the fucking business. It’s the Scots and the Irish, the Celtic people, who know how to cut loose and have a good time.”

Do the Scream Team have a warm-up routine for big gigs?

“See who can get the most drunk beforehand!” he laughs. “No, we just shake each other’s hands and go, ‘Let’s be careful out there!’ It’s like leaving the trenches and going to war.”