Primal Scream

“It’s an uplifting, spiritual sort of record which almost justifies its outrageous boast of encapsulating the entire history of rock ‘n’ roll in 65 minutes. Few, including me, would have thought the third-rate guitar outfit of old capable of such divine inspiration but Screamadelica sounds suspiciously like the baggy generation’s answer to Sgt. Pepper.”
I’m very rarely right, so for once let me blow the Clarkian trumpet with that excerpt from my October 1991 review of the Scream Team’s grand opus. The rock ‘n’ roll world’s changed a lot since then, but Screamadelica remains a bona fide classic and a perfect document of its, let’s be honest, über-druggy times.
Despite putting some serious mileage on their collective clock, the boys look in remarkably good nick tonight and if bored with playing Screamadelica in its entirety for the umpteenth time, they certainly don’t show it.
While no-one’s going to out shape-throw Bobby, Mani playing (sniff) his last Irish show with the Primals comes damn close. Mega riches lie ahead, but I suspect it’s with a heavy heart that Mr. Mounfield re-joins the Roses.
There’s no having to win over the crowd – average age about 30 I’d guess – who start idiot dancing the nanosecond ‘Movin’ On Up’ hits the PA. By the time ‘Slip Inside The House’ and ‘Don’t Fight It Feel It’ have come and gone, there’s isn’t a dry armpit in the building.
The momentum’s lost somewhat during ‘Higher Than The Sun’ and ‘Inner Flight’ – well, unless you happen to have ingested the appropriate chemicals – but it’s unlikely that the O2 has ever witnessed a more rapturously received double-whammy than ‘Come Together’ and ‘Loaded’, both of which cause this writer to offer thanks to God Almighty Andrew Weatherall.
Classic album-playing duties over, we’re treated to an encore comprising ‘Swastika Eyes’, ‘Country Girl’, ‘Jailbird’ and an elongated, even-Stonesier-than-the-original ‘Rocks’, which confirms Primal Scream as one of the great bands of their generation.