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Live Glasgow Feb. 8, 1998PRIMAL SCREAMALABAMA 3 GLASGOW BARROWLANDS MUSIC is not about action and overreaction, It was obvious that the trendy-plumber chic of Britpop and the faceless techno void would provoke something uncalled for and - oh, my God - here comes Alabama 3. Even without Fat Bloke With Tan. they're a startling, momentarily refreshing collection of people - Ouakers, flash "Dallas" baddies and strung-out 'Nam vets - who you'd do anything to avoid. But as with any overreaction, Alabama 3 have come out with all guns blazing and without thinking things through properly. Consequently, they use up their few good musical ideas on their best jokes-"Ain't Goin' To Goa and the blues of "U Don't Dance To Tekno" - leaving the rest of their set sounding like Chris Rea jamming with a very sludgy Happy Mondays. They can be funny - "Put your hands up for sentimentality," demands the Rev at one point - but musically, Richard Digance has the edge. It would be difficult to exaggerate just how important tonight is for PRIMAL SCREAM. "Vanishing Point" atoned for their rock-pig sins, and then some. But their recent live history - cancelled gigs. drummer confusion (Paul Mulreany out, fanny about a bit, Darrin Mooney in), mystery illnesses and most distressingly, a reportedly half- arsed approach to their live duties - has compounded the impression that the Scream are hopelessly self-indulgent. For a band who claim so passionately to be for and of the people, it simply isn't on. And they know it. The weekend papers were full of Bobby and Mani pledging to do better. Maybe they're enjoying a little pep talk backstage (perhaps invoking Brown, Rotten and Presley), certainly Barrowlands is trying to do its bit. There's that rare palpable tension tonight, expectant noise bouncing around the room long before they emerge. When Bobby finally bounces onstage - if not like Ali, then certainly with real intent - the chants of "Bob Bob, Bob" threaten to make the whole thing peak too early. Aware of this perhaps, the frazzled "Out Of The Void" kicks things off. It's built on beautifully shifting sounds shards of guitar, flute and twinkling keyboard fallout gel perfectly. Bobby, sounding suitably wrecked, clasps the mic, eyes shut tight. Next, it's a simply stunning "Stuka" - heavy, heavy bass and slivers of distorted melody underpin Bobby's howling exorcism. Egged on by an exuberant Bobby, "Burning Wheel" is our cue to explode and, buoyed as it is by those high-tensile bass riffs Mani excels at, it thunders along. By the time Bobby punches the air and hollers 'I seel I feel", we're all totally with him. Strangely, "If They Move, Kill 'Em" doesn't truly fire. Irresistibly industrial as it is the guitars wah wah where they should clang. Like a Harrier jump let piloted by The Glitter Band "Rocks" suddenly springs from the darkness, a trick they repeat later with "Rocks Revisited" or, as they prefer to call it "Medication". Rawk guitars and boogie-woogie piano just shouldn't sound this good. Of course, certain people think all this is a diversion from More Important Tasks - they're wrong. The beauty of Primal Scream is that they are truly cathartic. They articulate. and thus neutralise, our collective agony - often with music that makes your brain question what your ears are telling it - and then turn around and make us pogo like invincible giants. Elsewhere, "Long Life" is given gorgeous soul inflections by Bobby (he can sing!) and Throb, "Come Together" is stightly cabaret (well, what else could they do with it?) and "Star", while it still billows with dub bass and brass, is delivered rather perfunctodly. These days, you'd get more sense talking to a labrador about country and western than you would talking politics with a pop star, so why doesn't Bobby linger over something so intelligent and righteous? "Higher Than The Sun", by contrast, is allowed to breathe of its own accord. The saxophone break (far and away the worst instrument ever, remember) has a celestial serenity to it. Later, as the brass peels away into dissonance and snatched melody Bobby shakes his head slowly, as if he can't quite believe how sky-scrapingly awesome they can be. "Kowalski" breaks the spell. Mani's bass sounding like a very badly tuned motorbike. over which someone is releasing great steamy jets of noise. It's a fat, oppressive. terrifying thrill. He may keep apologising for being too pissed, but when Primal Scream return for the encore, Mani is holding Bobby's hand aloft in a victory salute. They know they've done it. The gig is effectively over. The cataclysmic versions of "Motorhead" and MC5's "Kick Out The Jams" are cool, but, you know, not quite there. although no one would have wanted to miss the seven seconds of absolute hysteria that greets Mani's flirtation with the bass line from "I Am The Resurrection". The tease. This isn't flawless. There are a couple of mundane, leather-kekked rockouts and there's no "Damaged", but it's a stunning victory. And, improbable as it might sound, you sense that they're going to get better, too. They've streaked from a whimper to a full- throttled roar; now, just watch them go. TONY NAYLOR Originally appeared in Melody Maker, 14 Feb 1998. Copyright © Melody Maker. Back |
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