You can always tell how Primal Scream are going to sound by the length of Bobby Gillespie’s hair. Short and you’re in for a night of scabrous white funk. Long, like it is tonight in a ‘70s Open University lecturer stylee, and it’s hold on to those fillings because the boys are going to rock.

“That was one of the ballads,” Mani cackles at the end of ‘Scissor Sally & Johnny Guitar’, the Faces on methamphetamine newie which kicks – I use the word advisedly! – the set off.

They may have left recent Hot Press cover star Kevin Shields at home, but the likes of ‘Skull X’, ‘Miss Lucifer’ and ‘Shoot Speed Kill Light’ sound as white noise wonderful as ever.

It’s shaping up to be a night of classic Scream Team bombast when things start going disastrously wrong. First of all they manage to fuck-up ‘Swastika Eyes’ twice. Then Gillespie decides to take a leaf out of Julian Casablancas’ book by prefacing every song with a slurred rant, one of which manages to link the “occupations” of Iraq and Northern Ireland. Something that living in Brighton, Bobby, you obviously know all about.

Just when you’re thinking it can’t get any worse, they make a complete pig’s ear of ‘Kowalski’, start rowing with each other and encore with ‘Rocks’ having played it only 20 minutes before. Badly.

Defeat thusly snatched from the jaws of victory, the band exit stage right to stunned looks of disbelief from the 1,500 or so faithful who’ve somehow managed to shoehorn themselves into the venue.

Off nights I can handle, but this was just plain insulting.