Mojo - The Music Magazine

MC5/Primal Scream
Royal Festival Hall
June 24, 2008

“I’ve been waiting 25 years for this,” says Primal Scream’s Andrew Innes as he stands outside the Royal Festival Hall waiting for show-time. For Primal Scream [pictured], who have long declared the massive influence of the MC5 on their music, tonight is a dream fulfilled.

Bobby Gillespie and Scream bassist Mani first encountered Five bassist Michael Davis at a London club in the late ’90s, duly dropping to their knees in homage. Their mutual admiration society is finally consummated tonight, as the two groups share a bill during Massive Attack’s stellar Meltdown season. The plan is for both bands to play a set before coming together for a final blowout. It certainly promises to be special but few dream how far these two kindred camps will push the Richter Scale as the Royal Festival Hall is transformed into Detroit’s Grande Ballroom circa 1968.

This night also carries the distinction of being the first major gig that Primal Scream have played sober. No big rehab revelations or clean-living manifestos, though – just a common sense which comes with age and, in some cases, fatherhood (“Six weeks to make an album! That could never have happened before,” booms Mani). Keyboardist Martin Duffy says he hasn’t played a gig without alcoholic assistance since he was 16, while Mani claims he’d grown tired of two drinks turning into two weeks AWOL. Neither has given up smoking (“I’ve got to have one vice!” cackles Mani). Meanwhile, for Bobby Gillespie, playing with his heroes is bigger than any artificial buzz.

Two weeks earlier, Gillespie had wondered what to play in the Scream’s 45 minute set. “We can’t try and out-Five the five!” he reasoned, adding that they would probably give some of new album Beautiful Future an airing. The Scream insist on going on first. ‘We’re not following them!” Mani exclaims, adding that it is “a matter of etiquette” that they support.

After records from Andrew Weatherall, the Scream take the stage (on time) at 8.10pm, launching full-tilt into Accelerator and Miss Lucifer before unveiling a sheaf of new songs, including the bell-strewn title track, Suicide Bomb and Beautiful Summer (augmented by violinist Melanie Draisey). Kowalski, Swastika Eyes, a cathartic Shoot Speed Kill Light and a roof-raising Rocks represent the back catalogue, and the band close the set with new single Can’t Go Back, received like an old friend by the crowd.

“That was wicked,” grins Massive Attack’s Robert Del Naja as the Scream troop off, surprised and delighted at themselves for turning in a blinder without so much as a beer. Now clear-eyed and blazing, on this sort of form Primal Scream could finally be ready to take on the world. At least this time they might get a visa.

Normally, this would have been a suitably rousing end to the evening but it’s still only 9pm. The MC5 follow almost immediately and kick the energy levels into orbit, starting songs practically before its predecessor has even finished. Surviving from the original lineup are guitarist Wayne Kramer, drummer Dennis Thompson and bassist Michael Davis, who are joined by second guitarist Adam Pearson and singer William DuVall (the Atlanta-born singer on day-release from Alice In Chains). Kramer is the consummate showman, leaping and duckwalking with his stars and stripes guitar, interacting with the front rows while leading the group through the songs which soundtracked America’s punk-predating political charge: Kick Out The Jams, Come Together, Motor City Is Burning plus Back In The USA highlights including Looking At You, Call Me Animal, a near-freeform Human Being Lawnmower and American Ruse – boasting Kramer’s most shattering solo of the night. Scream fave Sister Anne epitomises a group who are no less rabblerousing than before, new singer Duvall a charismatic natural.

Gillespie joins the delirious throng out front while the rest of the Scream gather in the wings waiting for the big finish. With 30 minutes left before the 11pm curfew, the Five leave the stage to rapturous applause, snatch a comfort break then charge back on, this time with Primal Scream in tow. A collective shudder ripples through the crowd as two singers, four guitarists, two bassists, two drummers and a piano player look at each other and kick into the distinctive riff of early Five song I Can Only Give You Everything.

This is more than token encore jamming. Two rehearsals and a soundcheck have honed the collaboration, resulting in a riotous Rocket Reducer No 62 (Rama Lama Fa Fa Fa), a retread of Primal Scream’s Skull X and a version of the latter’s Movin’ On Up which swells into one glorious, spine-tingling explosion. Yet, unbelievably, the MC5’s traditional set-closer – the locomotive, guitar-mangling Black To Comm – is on a higher level still. Further dilated by Spiritualized’s Jason Pierce, one of the sax players from Funkadelic, and violinist Melanie Draisey, it’s transformed into an unholy, surging racket, drenched in feedback, gaining intensity as Gillespie and Duvall bounce off each and drive the crowd into a stage-invading frenzy.

Just when the gob could not be more smacked, a tall, grey-haired man strides across the stage to the music stand and begins to recite some words. It’s none other than John Sinclair, the Lennon-hymned White Panther and the Five’s former guru. With sax braying, guitars squalling and percussion ricocheting as this Motor City legend intones, the gig channels the anarchic, rock-transcending spirit which galvanised the MC5 in their early days. As Sinclair strides off to a heartfelt ovation the beat kicks in again, Scream drummer Darrin Mooney and Thompson now an unstoppable juggernaut as the five guitars kick into a full-tilt overdrive which goes on until the house lights go up.

Afterwards the mood backstage is a strange mixture of euphoria and slackjawed disbelief at what has just happened. During the ’90s, Scream aftershows degenerated savagely into monstrously excess-packed knees-ups and this is no exception as the mates pile in, including Noel Gallagher, Bad Seeds drummer Jim Sclavunos and Kate Moss, who shifts up next to Duffy at one of the dressing room pianos for a rowdy singalong. Except tonight the best behaved here are Primal Scream, on their own special personal buzzes. “Top night!” says Andrew Innes next day. The difference now is that he can remember it.

Kris Needs