Tim Hughes joins the hardcore fans down the front, for a vintage performance by Bobby Gillespie and band – studded with anthems and classics

Primal Scream

O2 Academy Oxford

Bobby Gillespie is the consummate rock & roll star. Willowy, wispy and radiating swagger, he struts around the stage, mic in hand like the genetically-engineered love child of Mick Jagger, Jim Morrison and Tina Turner. In an age of lacklustre live performances by even decent bands, his presence and ability to throw himself into a tune – spinning, sweating, hair plastered over his face, accompanied by trademark hand claps – still thrills crowds, many of whom have been following him since his earliest foray to the front of the stage with the ‘Scream’ after emerging from behind the drum kit with the Jesus and Mary Chain.

This show at the O2 Academy Oxford was suitably rammed, despite there being a show by the Wedding Present upstairs (big fan crossover) and Primal Scream having played the city just six months previously at Common People in South Park. If anything that gig may have stoked this show, proving beyond doubt that Bobby is one of our greatest showmen with an epic back catalogue and a new album which ranks as one of the best of the year.

The album, Chaosmosis, figured heavily, but not at the expense of a scattering of anthems going right back to Screamadelica – such as opener, and mission statement, Movin’ On Up. This was followed by Chaosmosis highlight, Where the Light Gets In. But if Bobby initially seemed slow to hit his stride, he blew the place apart with country-rock classic Jailbird – cue more frenzied singing and air punching.

The temperature steadily rose, Bobby finding his mojo as the big tunes rolled out – building up with the metallic wig-out of Accelerator, levelling with the soul-wringing Cry Myself Blind and bringing it all down with a trippy Higher than the Sun. New tune Trippin’ on Your Love is pure 60s psychedelic pop but that, and follow up 100 % Or Nothing, are kicked out of the ball park by the break-neck, titanium-tipped electro-brainstorm of Swastika Eyes.

More arms in the air for Loaded, of course and a rousing Country Girl left us all horse. Then it was all back for an encore culminating in the ultimate Rolling Stones-esque struttin’ anthem Rocks – sending us off, ears ringing, and throats sore, into the night chill.

A classic gig, then. If only they were all this good.

TIM HUGHES 5/5