Primal Scream
Screamadelica

THE REVIEW

The rave season should not only be considered in the overly publicized gatherings of the last ten years. Today, with the focus on the money of the organizers, the true essence of this social cultural dimension is being distorted.

Everything begins in America, in the mid-Eighties, with house and techno. These two worlds immediately present landscapes filled with experimental DJs. It is the era of samplers, sequencers, and all those synths with intriguing and futuristic names. The Detroit of techno is immediately colored by the likes of Derrick May, Jeff Mills, Carl Craig, Richie Hawtin, Juan Atkins, and Kevin Saunderson. The Chicago of house, on the other hand, features Frankie Knuckles, Jesse Saunders, Marshall Jefferson, and Mr. Fingers.

The great exploits of these two genres, from "Clear," "Strings Of Life," "On And On" and ending with "Your Love," "Techno City," "Can You Feel It?" and "Acid Tracks," leave an indelible mark. Practically, between the mid and late Eighties, the Bible of the genre is created, so sacred as to serve both for future dance of Corona and Snap! and for more "cultured" territories like IDM. The concept of rave, synthetic high and gatherings to listen to music includes not only samples and electronic instruments.

There is also the whole range of shoegaze and the Madchester Sound: the former being the distorted vision of the psychedelia of the Byrds and Velvet Underground, the latter a new guise of the acid funky used up to that point in the post-punk scene (see some sounds of Rip Rig & Panic's "God"). The Eighties are over, and this scene in rapture is still awaiting something: it must reach 1991 to definitively complete the cycle.

A strange band called Primal Scream, which has made two records practically without sending too many signals, is preparing to release the third album. Andy Weatherall, guru producer, is the one who puts veiled hands on the new material of the combo. Picture those total works, like "Sgt. Pepper"? "Screamadelica" is precisely that kind of sonic Eden. A box where everything can be gathered, where everything is in its right place and absence of dead spots and imperfections. Primal Scream is a concentrate of Madchester Sound, pseudo shoegaze, and acid house.

This colossal melting pot is instantly shaken by "Movin On Up" (yes, the song they used in that car commercial), true gospel revival of the most camouflaged Stones with an ultra sticky refrain. With the second track "Slip Inside This House," we're starting to be assailed by some doubts: "I've heard this title before... isn't it a cover of the 13th Floor Elevators?" Indeed it is. The Primal Scream version stuffs this historic lesson of psychedelia with electronics, making future Oasis understand that the masters of mumbled refrains are only them. But there aren't only echoes and old copy pastes.

The future begins with the pompous jungle of "Don't Fight It, Feel It," masterfully stuffed with bass and sampling. These three excellent starters prepare us for the timeless "Higher Than The Sun," the true zenith of the rave era. The recipe is: pulsing dub bass, effected voice, rarefied introduction on the edge of the ancestral, subsequent triumph of the swaying drum kits and a faded high school end.

"Come Together" consecrates all this. It's trivial to compare the piano phrasings to the dance schemes of summer hits. Here there is much more. The exciting choir, which weaves into the synthetic dance, perfectly seals an era, a generation, thus becoming the stereotype of the classic tune that is shouted at concerts, but the real ones. Now you might think: "Okay, I've read the hits. Now there are surely the fillers and similar stuff."

Do you believe that in "Screamadelica" there's more? We find "Damaged," a ballad to make Jagger and Richards envious, "Loaded," an exhilarating exotic fanfare with trumpets and blues guitars coming from another planet (perhaps a step below "Come Together"), and the dub version of "Higher Than The Sun" with guest Jah Wobble (the colossal bassist of Public Image Ltd.). Yes, now it's truly all over, even though in this strange ending lies the dawn of everything.