Music Critic Jack Horlock shares his reflections on Primal Scream’s live show in Birmingham while touring their new album, Come Ahead
Screamadelica (1991) – Primal Scream’s most influential album – marked a dramatic shift from their comparatively more straightforward rock and garage sound. From the iconic album cover, which still adorned all of their merch offerings at this night’s show, to the sprawling psychedelic-influenced beats, it perfectly captured a moment in time: blending the chaos of early 1990s rave culture with blissful soul, gospel, rock, and acid house.
The band embraced this wholeheartedly around the 20th anniversary of the album’s release. Festival and headline shows were billed as ‘Primal Scream presents Screamadelica,’ which saw a resurgence in the band’s live popularity. So much so that they continued this trend, becoming synonymous with the style, aesthetics, and sound of the album. I last saw Primal Scream around this time, in 2011, at the age of 15. To this day, it serves as a core musical memory – detached from who was on stage, or why I was there, I only remember being transfixed by the undeniable groove of their magnum opus, and I too came to associate Primal Scream with it completely.
“It is always comforting to know that a band of Primal Scream’s tenure can still produce music worthy of their setlist.
2024 saw the release of their latest album, Come Ahead. In the days leading up to this show, I gave it a few listens. I was pleasantly surprised. Like Screamadelica, its tracks develop slowly and rhythmically, albeit more inspired by funk and even disco in places. It is always comforting to know that a band of Primal Scream’s tenure can still produce music worthy of their setlist. Wonderful – I was further excited by this.
As I approached Birmingham’s O2 Academy, I felt greeted by the sight of Screamadelica T-shirts. It felt warm. Familiar. Curiously, though, there was not much urgency in the crowd. No rush to the front. No edge in the air. That is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, there was something quite comforting about it. Primal Scream have a loyal, older fanbase. Perhaps for a lot of people it was simply a case of, ‘Ooo, shall we go see Primal Scream?’ – and then they did. Some of the best shows I have been to have been gently appreciated, rather than life-changing. There was a softness to the atmosphere – ‘let us enjoy the night, not be transformed by it.’
“There was a softness to the atmosphere – ‘let us enjoy the night, not be transformed by it.’
They opened with ‘Don’t Fight It, Feel It’ from Screamadelica. That unmistakable, strange synth hook kicked in, and I felt myself immediately pulled in by the breakbeat groove. Bobby Gillespie, their notorious frontman, carried himself with the cool detachment that you expect from someone who has been doing this for decades: that old-school rockstar disinterest. At times, it can come across as enigmatic, but tonight, it seemed to match the room – which is to say, fairly neutral. The energy did not quite surge in the way that it could have. For whatever reason, it did not immediately lift the crowd.
They moved into a new song, ‘Love Insurrection,’ which I had enjoyed on the album. Live, it held up well. The two female backing singers were on full form – confident, effortless – and the band sounded tight. Looking around, however, even the die-hard fans did not seem familiar with it. I did not notice anyone singing along. There was not much movement either. I would describe it as… polite bobbing? That gentle response gradually became the baseline for the rest of the night. Not disinterest, but as though everyone was waiting to be pulled in, never quite crossing the threshold.
“…everyone was waiting to be pulled in, never quite crossing the threshold.
I welcome bands playing their new material – and Come Ahead is a solid record – but nearly half of the night’s set was made up of it. They played four songs from Screamadelica, a few hits, and everything else was new. What became clear was that the band were grappling with a familiar tension: how to honour the legacy that fills the room, while still presenting themselves as artists with something current to say. It did not feel like they were resisting nostalgia altogether. Rather, that they have spent enough time leaning into it. It felt as though they were trying to re-establish their artistic vision. To remind us, and maybe themselves, that they are still evolving. Still relevant.
“It felt as though they were trying to re-establish their artistic vision.
One new track was accompanied by visuals – footage from Gaza and Elon Musk’s alleged Nazi salute on loop. This review will not comment on the necessity of the imagery – only that it did not land. It is a divisive topic, and I will not diminish anyone’s sincerely held beliefs. However, a reactive funk groove that most people did not recognise, paired with confronting visuals, seemed to deaden the crowd. Even the polite bobbing seemed to fade. Again, I respect the band’s commitment to their politics – whether or not you agree – and I am sure they do not particularly care how it lands. On this particular night, however, it created a disconnect. The visuals asked something of the room, but the music did not quite support it – or maybe the other way round. Either way, the moment hung in the air and contributed to the already dwindling sense of momentum.
As the set progressed, you could feel the crowd hoping for a run of classics. We had just had three new songs in a row. Until now, even fan favourite rockers, such as ‘Jailbird,’ felt shoehorned into the band’s artistic statement – preventing them from generating any real lift-off. ‘Loaded’ arrived – finally – and it was the first time there was actual flow. The crowd stopped being individuals and became something collective. People moved more freely, bodies swayed in sync, and for the first time in the night, it felt like the room had taken on a life of its own. The magic of Screamadelica was in full effect – that particular blend of groove, uplift and release cut through the reserve that had hung over the night, and something shifted. We were loose, open, and present.
‘Swastika Eyes’ came next, cutting sharply through the looseness of ‘Loaded’ with something harder. If ‘Loaded’ brought euphoria, ‘Swastika Eyes’ brought intensity. It was the most visually striking part of the night – strobe lights pulsing in sync with the relentless rhythm, the whole stage bathed in aggression and distortion. It felt authentic, lived-in, and entirely self-assured – as though the band had finally locked into something that required no explanation. Transfixing and cool, it carried the momentum from ‘Loaded’ without letting it settle, pushing the energy somewhere darker, sharper, and more deliberate.
And with that, ‘Movin’ On Up,’ their biggest hit, began to play – accompanied by the Screamadelica album art on full display behind the band. On paper, it was the moment the night should have peaked. But something felt off. The acoustic, spacious tones of the studio version were replaced by a distorted electric guitar, which changed the song’s entire feel – harder, flatter, and less euphoric. It felt like they were playing it out of obligation, rather than letting it breathe. The energy carried into ‘Country Girl,’ a stadium rock anthem with a well-known chorus. In another context, it would have contrasted perfectly with ‘Movin’ On Up’ – but with both songs delivered in the same sonic register, it ended up feeling like we had heard the same song twice. Still, ‘Country Girl’ had its moment. I had fun singing along, and so did the crowd. But even then, the night did not quite lift. What had briefly felt like a room moving as one during ‘Loaded’ had already softened back into something more reserved – warm, engaged, but ultimately a polite sing-along.
“What had briefly felt like a room moving as one during ‘Loaded’ had already softened back into something more reserved
Bobby attempted to rile everyone up – ‘Here we, here we, here we (expletive) go!’ – and the crowd obliged, but without the raw energy chants like that usually stir when they come from the crowd itself. They left the stage. The crowd cheered and clapped for more. From my perspective, though, it felt like a plea for something that had not quite arrived. We had not been satiated. They had not yet played ‘Come Together’ or their biggest sing-along, ‘Rocks.’ Surely now was the time to bash out a couple of hits unapologetically.
But no. They opened with ‘Melancholy Man,’ another new track. A ballad. And once again, they wiped the slate clean. I decided to give them their dues. I closed my eyes and let myself really take it in – and strangely, it became my favourite moment of the night. It was beautiful. Honest. Absorbing. For a few minutes, I remembered that this is a band of serious musicians and artists – thoughtful, sincere, and still pushing themselves. As mentioned, I have seen them before – when they gave the crowd exactly what it wanted – the full Screamadelica experience. So, I do not believe they are incapable of delivering that kind of night. This was not about ability. It was a choice. And I have to respect that. They wanted to do something different – to prioritise the present over the past – even if it meant losing the crowd now and then. I might not have agreed with every decision, but I admired the conviction behind it.
They ended the night with ‘Come Together’ and ‘Rocks,’ as predicted. ‘Come Together’ was nice – but the magic had already been diluted. It felt like they did not really come here to play it. Then ‘Rocks’ – “get your rocks off, get your rocks off honey,” we all sang. I was not lost in the music; I just knew the words. But I was also present, and that was enough in the end. I enjoyed the show, and I enjoyed witnessing the tension. It is a privilege to witness artistic struggle from credible artists.
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