“Did any band fluctuate from decent records to terrible ones quite so erratically as Primal Scream? (…) Let’s face it, Primal Scream’s strongest moments have been those when Gillespie was hardly in the foreground. No one remembers Screamadelica on account of his (occasional) vocals. (…) Recently, however, Gillespie has become convinced he’s a good singer when in reality his signature drawl is only slightly more robust than the floppy-disc flatness of his contemporary, Ian Brown.

Then there are the words, on which Gillespie worked so hard before whining them into the least fortunate microphone since that owned by Morrissey. To say this 63-year-old is still writing sixth-form poetry is an insult to the nuanced submissions of this year’s A-Level candidates. (…)

The piano-based ‘Melancholy Man’ is unintentionally, laughably abysmal: “See the melancholy man / Happiness is in his hand / He doesn’t really understand / Lets it slip away like sand / Everything within his grasp / Trying to let go [of] the past / If only he could see / Only he can set him free…” It’s as if Damon Albarn wrote a parody of his own worst slow song while trapped within a long Covid coma. At least Gillespie shuts up during the saxophone solo. (…)

The world is in an awful state and we have Bobby Gillespie to thank for pointing out its ills to the public. There are, of course, many who believe that when he shouts his socialist credentials from the rooftop, it is nothing but empty, performative posturing. Strip him of his bluster and you’ll get down to a self-serving and sanctimonious hypocrite. A leftier Bono, if you like, wearing similar sunglasses. (…)

rimal Scream is now The Gillespie Show and what a lamentable shitshow it has become. It would take a hell of a reinvention to pull back Primal Scream from this stinking brink. Come Ahead is a record that fails, fatally, to recognise that Bobby Gillespie was always Primal Scream’s least compelling element.”

(JR Moores im Quietus)

Mit dank an Dirk Böhme