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MM Sonic Flower Groove Review

PRIMAL SCREAM
SONIC FLOWER GROOVE
Elevation/WEA

GINGER McGee's Elevation enterprise is not exactly elevating is it? First, The Weather Prophets turn in a debut LP devoid of the vital sap, devoid of just about everything actually. Then here come Primal Scream with this terribly thin entertainment. Quality Control Dept sloping off early to catch Tony Gubba's "Darts From Redcar"? Something.

Whatever the excuses, "Sonic Flower Groove" is swamped with problems of its own doing. Primal Sream have never been the most meaty of pop groups. Previously, only the sucky jangle of "Crystal Crescent" has mildly suggested some songwriting prowess hiding away in there. These 10 rumbles lack any physicality which is what we would expect. The shortcomings go beyond this. Bom but not concieved as such, this package carries no songs, just a dusty pile of dull leftovers. Primal Scream never rise, they just laze and recline. "Sonic Sister Love", "Silent Spring" and "Imperial" are the msot glaring offenders, built like spider's webs and hung like nursery rhymes. Across thse oily attempts of garageland ethereality, Gilliespie's apologetic vocal lumbers. It is the most bored, indifferent toil you have heard for years.

Time, it seems, has blundered past Primal Scream. We are not overly impressed by fourth-rate Byrds impersonations in these brash, untidy times. Neither are we particularly moved by lyrical infirmities that make Simon and Garfunkel sound like The Collected Poems Cf William Blake. No, we are not so easily fooled. When Gillespie attempts the words, "I Love You," in a song of the same name, you have never heard those words sound so pitifully dour and disbelieving. Is this how he says it in real life? God help him then. These are goool words and they deserve better

"Gentle Tuesday" appears reasonably flushed, an unexpected pant, but that's about ft. The rest is not pop. It is dandelion fluff. You keep wond6ring why Gillespie left the Mary Chain to settle for this shell of a band. It's Sooty Plays The Byrds Songbook with Harry H. Corbett (God rest his soul) blind drunk on cocleine cough syrup. Elevation my eye!
JONH WILDE

Originally appeared in Melody Maker Oct 3, 1987.
Copyright © Melody Maker.

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