Primal Scream review (2008)

 I was in Barca for a reason. What a way to make a living. It was fucking ace.

Primal Scream

Antiga Fabrica d’Estrella Damm, Barcelona

20/09/08

****

There are many things in life that are definite: that if you guzzle your guts full of grubby stuff, they will grumble; that there will always be something to stick to your shoe if your shoe is new; that gigs outside make the rain come. Actually, the latter one turns out not to be true tonight as Primal Scream stride onstage to play their part at La Merce festival. It’s the start of a week-long pissup/fiesta to celebrate the end of the summer, and the beginning of the winter, and the saints, and… sod it, let’s just celebrate anyway. So amidst the fireworks and the chocolate and churros, amongst the human towers and the bunches of flowers and the briny blood of the blessed, bands are booked by the selfsame people who are behind the Primavera Sound shindig held here every summer. And like that rather excellent fest, BAM (as the musical side is known) delivers a set of acts that are top class, familiar, and occasionally quite insane.

Not that you could level that against Bobby Gillespie and the band, who are riding on a wave of sheer belief in themselves at the moment, with brand new album Beautiful Future a typically cocky statement of intent. The crowd are right up for it, too, and the facts are that we’re finding it hard to breathe amidst the excitement and the buzz. It’s not the longest set they’ve ever done – or perhaps it just passes in a haze of Catalunyan excitement – but once the first chords of Movin’ On Up start waves of melodious craziness, we’re hopelessly lost in a sea of smiles. And, for once, the encore is one that rings true: The Scream leave the stage somewhat reluctantly; but needs must, and as the crowd disperses under a hail of feedback, the streets sigh with relief. They’ve been battered under the weight of several thousand dancing feet, and by God do they know it. Awesome.

Joe Shooman