Wall of Noise

I salute the beat combo Primal Scream for journeying to the (ye?) historic city of Gloucester last Thursday; their set at the compact and bijou Guildhall proved loud, merry, vigorous, up-tempo, melodic, rifftastic and loud. When a ‘big’ group attends the Guild, it’s part recital, part happening and the plethora of hepcats in attendance (some e’en travelling all the way from Cheltenham Spa) indicated that the scene was celebrating itself effervescently. The Scream rocked and rolled with insouciance and cool. The lead vocalist Bobby Gillespie played the part of lead vocalist Bobby Gillespie with wit and swagger, sprinkling a sprinkle of Michael Philip Jagger into a performance of gleeful pop/rock; the fellow, approaching his fiftieth year with alacrity, donned the skinny-hipped trousery, shook his tousled locks, shimmied and swayed like a young ‘un and belted out belters. The band proffered tight and energetic backing and ‘twas merry to witness the legendary Mani wielding his bass and conjuring up a no-nonsense masterclass in riddimic rigour. Highlights included strutting versions of Rocks, Swastika Eyes, Country Girl and Suicide Bomb but this ageing character particularly appreciated a courteous doff of the cap towards some Screamadelica classics: a quick blast of Loaded and Movin’ On Up (and a slow song I’ve forgotten the name of) and it was suddenly 1991 and I was wearing desert boots and plaid shirts and looking young again. I enjoyed this concert and offer gratitude to the movers and shakers at my local Arts Centre for arranging such lively entertainment.