Live review: Primal Scream

Home turf gig for Bobby G and co.

Bobby Gillespie, Primal Scream
(Image: © Getty)

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Arriving on stage, Bobby Gillespie positions himself between bassist Simone Butler and backing vocalist Hannah Marsden. Trading the band’s guitar army for some sassy feminine front and gorgeous harmonies has paid off handsomely, especially on jangly opener 100% Or Nothing.

Jailbird and Rocks recall the moment Gillespie and Andrew Innes became the rave generation’s Glimmer Twins; while delivering a particularly beguiling (I’m Gonna) Cry Myself Blind, the singer’s skeletal paw frantically pushes the air in front of him.

Beyond Stonesy staples they travel various sonic highways. Whether it’s the poppy electronica of Where The Light Gets In or Accelerator’s adrenalised punk frenzy (during which one intoxicated casualty hits the floor) there’s never a dull moment. Plastic pints fly into the venue’s gigantic disco ball during a riotous Country Girl which brought attention to the bouncing fans chanting “Bobby fucking G”.

Loaded has the local hero shaking maracas wildly as Innes’s bottleneck slide summoned the much missed Robert Young. You can almost see Throb throw back his long black mane as a life-giving rock’n’roll energy entrances the room.

A triumphant Movin’ On Up ends the set as Gillespie savours the moment. The man who turned Glasgow laconic into an art form can’t leave the stage before a grin as wide as the Clyde indicates just how good it feels to be home.