Primal Scream – ‘Come Ahead’ review: funk meets punk, with grenades in the trunk

1 month ago 8

“When my time finally comes, I’ll be ready,” sings the choir introducing the opener to Primal Scream’s long-awaited 11th album ‘Come Ahead’. “Oh Lord, ready to go home.” You think we’re going to church before a short, sharp, bruising blast of electro menace reminiscent of 2000’s ‘XTRMNTR’ gives way to pure roller-disco funk euphoria. Bobby Gillespie, with the effortless cool of ’70s cop Shaft to match the sonic theme behind, swaggers in, preaching of a time “where no one is shamed, and no one is blamed”. ‘Ready To Go Home’ is the best of the Scream’s balance of spirit and soul and speaks to the dream that drives this record.

DJ don and soundtrack master David Holmes pumps the engine as producer to get things moving, while the sleeve comes adorned with an image of the singer’s dad – Robert Gillespie Senior – a champion for social justice. Their first album since 2016’s hot-steppin’ ‘Chaosmosis’ (and first since the death of keyboardist Martin Duffy) came from a time when the band’s future looked uncertain, but the fuckery that surrounds us inspired Bobby to pen an album that shines some glitterball light on society’s ills to see whether or not we can dance through them.

‘Love Insurrection’, with its ‘Screamadelica’ shuffling rhythms set to some Nile Rodgers-esque riffery courtesy of guitarist Andrew Innes, sees Gillespie’s Marvin Gaye propheticisms in full flow for these times where “the blind lead the blind”, but “as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow morning, so will the children of the future”. It’s a tonic for these dark times, which look set to grow even gloomier under the now impending return of a certain orange demagogue.

‘Innocent Money’ brings a little Glaswegian piss and vinegar to Studio 54, mixing partying with protest against the UK divide (“From Buckingham Palace to sink estate slums, imperial nostalgia, the eagle has flown”) before the QOTSA-tinged ‘Love Ain’t Enough’ provides a call to stand tall against the winds of bullshit. Holmes’ cinematic touch can be felt on the gentle ‘False Flags’, where Gillespie sings of a man pushed to enlist to fight in an unjust war just to escape his doldrum town.

‘Circus Of Life’ can be ranked among the Scream’s finest psych wig-outs and album highlight ‘The Centre Cannot Hold’ ironically puts a lost capitalist hellscape to rights with a really pumping and driven rager. Later, Morricone mini-epic ‘Settlers Blues’ has echoes of The Beatles’ ‘I Want You (She’s So Heavy)’ and wanders into the ravages of colonialism. The point’s laid on a little too thick at times, and we could do with some punchier peaks to get our rocks off – ‘Heal Yourself’, for instance, plods a little and ‘Melancholy Man’ stumbles as something of an aimless dirge. Ultimately, though, ‘Come Ahead’ may have a whole lot of funk on its surface but still packs oodles of punk and grenades of protest in its trunk.