He’s propelling himself across the stage, bouncing off bandmates, spitting across the stage, and flicking sweat across the first four rows of the crowd: a high-energy reincarnation of Iggy Pop and Joey Ramone, right down to the torn skinny-leg jeans and the ragged Hugh Mack Dill rock hair.
This is Elliott Hammond, frontman for Melbourne band The Delta Riggs, support act for the great Primal Scream.
Watching The Delta Riggs is like watching an episode of The Mighty Boosh: an endless array of rock clichés are deployed so lovingly that it’s hard to tell where ‘cool’ ends and irony begins. But for some reason you can’t help loving it.
On stage the band seems like self-conscious rock scholars parading their influences through their outfits (logoed denim jackets, 60s neckerchiefs, feathered fedoras, and of course the tight, torn jeans), and their stage presence (the Townsend guitar windmill, the Jagger strut, the mic twirl).
Guitar and drum solos abound and furniture flies about the stage. This is good old-fashioned rock n roll horseplay; and goddamn it’s fun to watch.
The adolescent rowdiness of The Delta Riggs brings up an interesting point: there are certain bands that, despite their age, put out an aura of youthful energy.
It’s easy to forget that, like the Chili Peppers, Primal Scream have been around for nearly three decades.
As they launch into their set it’s immediately obvious that age has not slowed them down. The show opens with “2012”, a stomping track from their forthcoming album.
This is quickly followed by the screaming sirens, hard strobes, wall of guitar noise, and deafening house beats of “Swastika Eyes”.
Primal Scream are living up to their moniker and pounding it out at ear-melting volume, but still somehow managing to put out a defined sound, rather than just some amorphous industrial noise. Credit here to both the band and the Tivoli sound crew.
Following up that barrage of brain-rattling rock, they start whipping out a bunch of old-school tracks. “Movin’ On Up” is the first Screamadelica-era favourite to get the crowd bouncing, and it doesn’t let up from there.
The band move into their classic cover of The 13th Floor Elevators’ “Slip Inside This House”, perhaps overblowing the noise on this one and losing some of the track’s spacey psychedelia.
Understanding the dynamics of a great gig, the band soon slow it down, with the Stones country-rock of “Damaged” allowing the guitarists to swap sweetly melodic solos, and ensuring the crowd doesn’t peak too early.
Bobby Gillespie’s already limited raspy whisper seems to have diminished a little with age, but he still owns the stage, commanding a stern rock presence despite his gaunt and diminutive appearance.
Despite being unable to understand a single word he says between tracks (either due to the thick Scottish brogue, or three decades of hard rock living), he amps up the crowd, drawing them into every song.
The band continues to mix new tracks (which thankfully don’t suck, a highlight being “It’s Alright, It’s OK”) with old classics. “Come Together” gets the whole room singing in giddy gospel harmonies.
The encore sees them reigniting the dance floor with the crowd favourite “Loaded” and predictably closing with rocking classics “Jailbird” and “Rocks”.
Primal Scream leave the stage amid a screaming torrent of looped vocals, hammering beats, and seizure-inducing strobes, all increasing in tempo and volume with the seeming intent of detonating heads and destroying the audience: a curious way to end a show.
Despite being in their 50s, Primal Scream quite simply rock.
The ringing ears and strobe-cauterised retinas are a small price to pay to see a band who remain a must-see live act.
Check out our photo gallery of Primal Scream’s show at The Tivoli here.
