I (don’t) hate rock n roll. Primal Scream get down at The Scala

-->

As a teenager trapped in a steel town with little cash and only my mind as means of escapism it was inevitable that I would turn to tunes to soothe the crushing numbness of nothingness that hung around in the air.

It started with simple rock n roll  - it wasn’t even real rock n roll – it was some sort of working man’s club revival with aged fellas in drapes sporting DAs and thus there was an inevitable Showaddywaddy type lock on, Shakin’ Stevens and Stray Cat struts and shit.  Don’t get me wrong it filled a hole. I know it was only rock and roll but I liked it. From there I would listen to Elvis, Carl Perkins, Eddie Cochran and through that came The Stones and The Beatles.  This would have been back in the early eighties.

By 1985 I had stopped my association with rock and roll. It wasn’t that I hated it but I associated rock and roll with the worst excesses of TOTP culture  - all men in denim with collars up shaking their hips and pursing their lips but looking like stout middle aged men hanging on to some sort of milkshake dream – you know it’s not Nashville it never would be – it’s Ashby and we’ve got a Kwik Save.  

I had begun to define my self in opposition to this. I began to hate rock and roll and all those people with nothing to show.

Yet looking back I was simply a rock and roller by another name.

My rock and roll was reaching beyond the kiss curl and jumpsuits. It wanted it to be fierce and untamed. It began with The Velvet Underground. It would take some time to find the dirty end of scuzz rock and bawling but in the beginning The Velvets provided this antidote to the bland chug a lug-lug-lug of the behemoth rock and rollers.  Screeching and full of bittersweet romance and loss The Velvets was the band I wanted to be in. Artful outsiders to the mainstream of fat rock and rollers – maaaan.  Appropriation occurs at every stage of living when you are a youth – so I searched out winkle pickers, tight black canvas and blunt scissors for bowl headed cuts.

And then as I was morphing into my own zone came the Jesus and Mary Chain. Year zero for the rebirth of independent pop music. It was 1985. Suddenly it was the ‘rebirth’ of rock and roll in this house. Screaming teenagers and loss of control.  

Real rock and roll.

Maximum rock and roll.

Bobby Gillespie was part of this new rock and roll. Two drums and this supra-cool aesthetic. It was instant love – heaven’s above! Then there was talk that he was only moonlighting in the most original band I’d ever heard. The Jesus and Mary Chain were a band who’d taken all the elements of rock and roll and merged them into one pure blast of sonic magic. But this Gillespie had another band – a band called Primal Scream.  Cool name and one cool motherfucker. So into town to purchase their single was the next move – once again you have to remember that we weren’t downloading this and having a listen through streaming. You had to go to the shop ask for a copy – sometimes order it – without listening and then buy it – we weren’t brave enough to listen to it in store and say no. So it would be bought, bagged up and returned to bedrooms to revolve on cheap record players turned up loud (when we could get away with it.)

‘Crystal Crescent’ was a beautiful song. Psychedelic and tripped out lite and tight not noise and full of rage. There was a gentle side to this rock and rolling. Flip the record and find Velocity Girl. Simple, chiming and over in seconds.

Suddenly there was a new rock and roll in town.

And that rock and roll was in town again tonight (or in this case a few weeks back as it’s taken far too long to write this) Primal Scream played the Scala for a night of maximum rock and roll.  And after many years I was back in the fray again. I sort of lost touch with the Scream after the heady Screamadelica days and lows of the Give Out but Don’t Give Up long player. It wasn’t that I didn’t like them but rather they were verging on something I wasn’t quite aligned to. I’d got rid the winkle pickers ( as had they) and most sounds in my head were electronic and made for dancing to through the night. The Scream seemed to be mutating into something like the behmoths I couldn’t take anymore – it had all gone a little too rock n roll.  

But how wrong I was.

Following ‘Give Out’ came a blistering set of long players and The Scream found that Stooges fright and scowl blended with motoric electonica that was always at the heart of what they did/ do. Tonight is no exception. It’s the greatest hits and they are the greatest. A two-bit indie rock band from Glasgow with all killer and no filler delivered a wonderful evening of music for the maximum capacity crowd rammed into The Scala on a Tuesday evening.

Opening with the gospel rock of ‘Movin’ On Up’ Gillespie resplendent in Flying Burrito Brothers meets Viet Cong black suit whips up the crowd to a frenzy and we are only one song in. This is a stripped back Scream this evening and possibly for the future. Innes – blue tonic suit, pork pie hat and Hawaiian themed shirt (perhaps he was going on holiday afterwards), Duffy tucked behind the keys (I can’t tell you what he was wearing – I couldn’t see him), Simone pwering away on bass and Darrin firmly sat behind the kit.

Tonight’s proceedings take in 1986 to the present. A full on 33 years. Gillespie still has that awkward charm of a man who knows he’s a rock and roll star but isn’t going to pander to the obvious. Tight lipped except a few acknowledgements and thanks and a heartfelt tribute to the very recent death of Jake Black from the Alabama 3. Gillespie lets you know how he feels through the songs.

Innes is in towering form with his guitar tonight and being up and close is a  pleasure. The last time I saw the Scream was at a festival and everyone was talking through ‘Damaged’. It wasn’t great. Tonight though they can see our eyes and we can see the whites of theirs. And it all makes for an hour and half of sonic mayhem and merriment.  Every tune is greeted with a cheer and there was always one part of the crowd bellowing out the words and boogying on down whether the tunes were coming from Sonic Flower Groove or Chaosmosis.

It was wonderful to see The Scream acknowledge some of the tunes that had brought me to their door so long ago. ‘Velocity Girl’ was aired tonight and it probably hasn’t been played since 1988. It was longer and there was a sense that Gillespie had done a Lou (Reed) on it with a change in inflection of the lyrics. But you know what. He wrote it  - he can sing it however he likes. We didn’t have a surprise visit from Martin St John. I think the ‘Confessions of a Primal Screamer’ but the stop to that. So there are no tambourines but Bobby did have maraccas. 

And Innes got the Rickenbacker out for a blistering ‘Imperial.’ Which for old men like me was a lovely addition.  I was gutted that we didn’t get ‘Ivy Ivy Ivy’ from the second album even though it had apparently been soundchecked in Brighton the day before – but hey ho the set list made up for it with sublime cuts from Vanishing Point (Kowalsi and Star) and Exterminator (Accelerator, Kill All Hippies and Swastika Eyes – with Innes in full siren effect)

Of course we got ‘Loaded’. And we had a party. We had a good time. With Gillespie holding his microphone aloft for the crowd to chant back at him as he grinned from ear to ear. I think the biggest surprise for me was seeing just how popular ‘Country Girl’ is for The Scream. It’s a sure fire crowd pleaser. I wasn’t too certain when Riot City Blues came out. I was in the camp that I thought they could do better with what they had but clearly that’s the reason why I never ran a record label nor fronted a successful band.  Bobby is in his element and the stripped down Scream give all their worth in a rock hoe down and the crowd sing along in unison to what seemingly is their ‘biggest’ hit. And I guess that’s what it’s all about. You don’t last 33 years if you don’t have the tunes that make the whole crowd sing. Tonight Primal Scream don’t even play half of the ones they have in the locker. This is a rock and roll band that can command a crowd.

When I think back to those early days of catching glimpses of Primal Scream on TV you can see that it’s all still there in Bobby G and his merry band of brothers and sisters. It’s charisma, self-belief and the ability to have a god time.

Primal Scream were good tonight.  

Actually Primal Scream were great tonight.

Primal Scream are a maximum rock and roll band.

I think I might love rock n roll again.

How to destroy rock n roll - an evening with The Telescopes

They make fucking noise.

The Telescopes make beautiful fucking noise.

It's been a while since I was actually in New Cross. I pass through it - but don't stop there so much (can't stop, won't stop) - not since those heady university Goldsmiths' daze. Which is pretty much where The Telescopes came in. Okay - I first found my love for their sonic shakes whilst living out life with a bowlhead and bag on the mean streets of Scunthorpe - a northern town to bring you right down.  The Cheree realeased Kick The Wall - summing up all that teenage frustration in guitars and screams.  On hearing Stephen and Co's cacophony I decided that I liked it and wanted to taste a little more - and I pursued it with abandon in my early university time.

So I set about going to a number of gigs of theirs - early days for them and late nights for me. It was clear then - as it was with tonight's concert - that The Telescopes take no prisoners. They just play hard motherfucking rock n squall - and that my friends is exactly as it should be. Early Telescopes had that Iggy/ Stooges/ Spaceman thing going - no down tempo numbers full on sonics and screams.

I sent letters - mainly to Jo - and Stephen as well - interviewed them for a fanzine - jumped myself silly at gigs - supported them in Hull - watched them play with The Mary Chain and then slowly I stopped listening for a while. It was those repetitive beats - pulling me somewhere else.

But now here I was again waiting for a set of something - and to be honest I wasn't expecting it to be that hard - that brutal - but I felt challenged and that's good - it makes you think - it makes you question music. And as that's my bag - tonight's Telescopes - so different to years gone past - but so bloody-minded and similar in repose and attitude - did just that. They destroyed rock n roll for all around and simply put it back together in layers of reverb and hate.

The day was billed as a Psych All Dayer  - but I was making an evening of it. I tend to end up at these things on my own - my 45 year old set don't go in for this type of abuse - so I arrived for a set from Black Seas - a five piece Jaguar guitars and tweed sort of thing - they had noise and jangle - a touch of early valentines and a singer prowling and sending deep reverberations around - I guess it was a Nick Cave type thing - but with none of the presence and he was wearing a Nike t-shirt - so I'm not having that. You've got to put some effort in.

This was followed by a transcendental trumpet and electronica pyschedelic workout by two blokes under the name Hirvikolari - they started with dub echoes and bleeps and pretty much kept it that way as a colossal twenty minute beast was unleashed with modular pulses and repetition. I liked it - I liked their style.

Next - Melt Dunes - young psych upstarts - with loud guitars and hair - I quite like d them to be honest - a bit Sabbath - a bit of this and that - but their was conviction and a sense of  show - some youth down the front showing that he dug it - I liked that - this band will have fans - they will show their appreciation. They finished with a cover -  and I can't remember it's name - but it was fantastic - all

repetitive and shouting - they will certainly make some memorable records.

And then to The Telescopes - this brooding thing - slowly lumbering to the stage from the caves - finally alive and hungry. Stephen has been ploughing this field for some time now - incarnations of The Telescopes - forever looking further and beyond the now - exploring new space with a set of like minded 'cavemen'.  This current line up found Dave Gryphon on three stringed bass - 'Why would I need a G?', Stuart Gardham ( I think - but I might be wrong) stretching the sonics through six strings and John or Jon hitting the skins - warrior like - in control and controlling. Stephen spends most of the night crouched down - kneeling on the stage - listening and adding - sending his vocals spinning out and out into space ringing around and around - merging and melding into one noise - one beautiful noise.

If truth be told - I didn't recognise a song - there was a fella and his wife  - had waited all day for this - he was wearing a Chapterhouse t-shirt - he didn't stick around - they weren't playing the hits. Not that that would be a bad thing - The Telescopes have an army of tunes - they just decided that this wasn't the place to play them - or if it was - present them in such a manner that meant they became something else. Feedback jazz - was my bag that night.

It's hard to describe the sheer force of this group - it is not noodling or sonic fuckery for the fun of it - it seems to me that they actually want to push the limits of sound. I was on such a buzz on it finishing - it felt like I'd been fought with - punched and dazed - half the crowd had made it through the door - pushed themselves away. It was confrontational pop music. I can only imagine it must have been like witnessing Suicide or Throbbing Gristle for the first time.  It was not for the faint hearted. It wanted to fucking eat us all up - but there was subtlety and simmering within - at one point with all members fallen to the floor pushing their instruments against speakers and stage - vibrating - shaking - as Stephen howled down the microphone there came about a point of sudden bliss coupled with an expectation that we had hit new heights - that rock n roll was dead and somehow it needed to be saved - it needed raizing from the dead. And all that we had learned came crashing down in that sound - it was offerring a new perspective on these South London streets.

The Telescopes were asking us to think - in this nostalgia fuelled era (of which I'm completely guilty - but I mean it maaaaaan - I truly do ) they didn't represent the past - and sell t shirts and CDs of glory days - they simply put that aside - they continued to breathe new breaths - new life and grew into this. I turned 45 this year - why should Stephen be stuck being 19 - we've all moved on. I'm glad I took th etrip back to past memories. I left New Cross just as the Venue crowd were lining up to get in. Times have changed - I first met Duglas from BMX bandits there - I got the feeling that the BMX Bandits would not be on the Venue's playlist tonight.

So why stick with the past?

I feel Stephen an Co are still trying to explore what can be done - they are still kicking against the wall. Even if it means that they don't necessarily play 'Kick the Wall'. Do you get me?

You should try it though actually having a night with The Telescopes. It's modern. It's vital. It's music pushed to its limits.

It's a fun night out.


One from the new long player 

NWA (Noise with Attitude) Part 2

‘I'm going down to the place tonight,

To see if I can get a taste tonight,

A taste of something warm and sweet,

That shivers your bones and rises to your heat’

You see Jim always puts it best. 

Arriving early at The Troxy – in the scuzzy end of the east of London – where gentrification has yet to set in. Limehouse was an apt place for the return of the mighty JAMC – this wasn’t central London west end and bright lights – it was on the periphery – standing at the edges – but not wanting to get in – instead looking out. Leather jackets turned away from the surburban and mundane.

When I first heard Psychocandy – courtesy of my brother – it felt like the most thrilling piece of vinyl for a long time. At this point I had an understanding of who Spector was, rock n roll was played in the house – I liked it  - but here was rock n roll for my generation (not theirs) it was full of energy and anger – confrontation and isolation  - bravado and moments of doubt. It took the scowl of Lou Reed and wedded it to a maelstrom of white noise. It was coming from the tough streets of Glasgow – it was frothing at the mouth and screaming from its lungs. It echoed my steel town boredom and hormone fuelled adolescent – spotty kids playing guitar licks.

Jim and William felt like me and my brother – except we probably didn’t fight as much. But there was that insular – extrovert thing going on. And it’s evident tonight – whilst Jim’s upfront, slight swagger and confident (in parts) – William hangs in the wings – turning his back on us and towards his amps – his screeching and wailing emanating from his guitar is his only communication.  He’s Ron Asheton to Jim’s Iggy.

So tonight at the Troxy it’s the return of Jesus and Mary Chain - back to their beginnings – who McGee declared the ‘best band in the world’ way back in 1985. Would they still be? Can a set of outsiders  from Glasgow – now embraced  by the mainstream – still astonish the world?

The evening starts back to front or ‘upside down’ (see what I did there?) – they’re always contrary these fucking scots – aye – I’ll just do it my way – so they do - opening with ‘encores’.   From the opening chords of April Skies it’s clear that they are here to take no prisoners. They are going to assault the ears and lead us right into a mess of sound. Whilst the sound is loud it’s clear that William is controlling the intensity. Jim’s not always clear in the mix – but it isn’t muddy - just brutal at times – and never more so than on Upside Down – a song I never thought I’d hear in a live setting – I was 13 when that single emerged in 1984. I am 43 now.  It still rattled with chaos – as Jim forever upending his microphone stand – paced and prowled the stage as William layered the sonics and filled this wonderful venue with a snarling noise.

Then it was on to Psychocandy.

From the  opening promotional film for East Kilbride  all shot through with flame as the celluloid burnt and warped  through the jump cuts and repetition of motorbikes, youth, buildings, hands, fights, decay and blurred shapes and swirls the JAMC are here to entertain.

Those expecting Douglas and Bobby to be in the line-up may well have been disappointed - but it’s fair to say they left way back then and have pursued their own rock n roll dreams. So we might not have the iconic two piece kit but we still have the brothers Reid and that Spector beat to bring is in and hold us enthralled for the next hour ( I know the long player is only 43 minutes – but we had to clap you know)

I often return to Psychocandy – I’ve been dipping in over the past 30 years. It’s still raw and honest and surprising. The Mary Chain were my Velvets, my Stooges, my MC5 – I hadn’t heard those bands at the point Psychocandy emerged – well maybe the Velvets but the other two I can honestly say were not part of my record collection. They would come to be - because of this band.  And this combination of metal machine music with the ‘ba ba baas’ of sraightfoward rock n roll was revelatory.  You couldn’t predict that sound. You have to remember this was Wham time, Culture Club and Live Aid. We’ve got Band Aid again – right now – and right now we’ve got The Jesus and Mary Chain. They’re not trying to feed/ change the world – it’s just pop music (with an edge).  And oh what an edge – this felt out of nowhere –it felt juvenile but understood it’s past – yet they were dismissed as a ‘band who couldn’t play’ and  because when no one takes you serious - that makes you feel so dangerous – and therefore anything goes.  From bedrooms come great dreams and schemes – couple this to a defeated working class and a riot strewn landscape then the JAMC’s brand of desolation blues was bound to chime with some of us.

So here it was tonight- in full aural glory. This was a run through from track one to track fifteen ( see that pop pickers – 15 tracks – value for money) As I said it was controlled chaos – I saw My Bloody Valentine way back when – and they were just too loud – lost in the mix – not creating aural landscapes but just causing hurt.  This was explosive – but with modesty – it didn’t take over – Pyschocandy is a testament to the tunes that were played here tonight. The feedback is not added  - it’s integral to the sound – that ringing sound uh huh huh.  William is riffing and revving and the five piece are in full flow from the start.

This looking back to a seminal album does not mis-fire.

I am a moving and a shaking throughout. And I’m in the seats above. God knows what’s happening on the dancefloor.  It’s hard to pick out a moment with a concert like this – you kind of dive in and suck it all up. You experience it – maaaaaaaannnn.  But I guess ‘ In a Hole’ felt special – evoking that frenzied appearance on the Whistle Test and the first time I heard it in session on Peel – that’s my Mary Chain special one – and then of course there’s  'Never Understand' and 'Taste of Cindy' and, and, and. So it’s all buzzsaws or chainsaws and scowls and screams – Jim’s frontman posturing still hypnotic despite the thirty year gap – his voice was great – as I said hidden at times in the mix – but powerful nonetheless.

And then with the brief ‘ It’s So Hard’ (the only one that I feel sounds like it may have come from ’85 – with its Bunnymenesque bass and guitars) it’s over. It is all over.

Game Over – and it was.

When Psychocandy emerged it was a game changer – it would ultimately lead to the Gallaghers and Radio One’s embracing of the independent scene. Culture isn’t the same as it was – it never will be. We don’t do nostalgia here. This wasn’t nostalgia tonight - this was a revisit of one of the greatest rock n roll records ever made.

No swindle was involved.

Here is Upside Down - courtesy of Plastictoy1 - he or she captures the intensity