Music: Malu van Leeuwen
`I ain’t fucking satisfied! I ain’t satisfied!’ Keith Flint of Prodigy is not satisifed with a screaming audience of thousands, he’s not satisfied with those hands in the air showing him the finger like all good dance punks. Flint marches round the stage with his hair (what there is of it) gelled into those famous spikes, and in a bomber jacket so ugly Vivienne Westwood would probably happily oblige and spit on it.
After a lacklustre performance by British support act Faithless, and an even more lacklustre one from Anti Gravity, any show of attitude is welcome. Prodigy specialise in it, not through their repartee as such – although the word “fuck” is clearly listed first in frontman Maxim Reality’s onstage vocabulary – but via their music.
Of course the sound is huge for Prodigy, the stage lighting better (though far from the expected awesome) and the backdrop dramatic – difficult to say what it is, though a rough guess would be a bat chamber. No such luxuries for Anti Gravity, whose music must stand all on its own with little but three people and a computer to do the job. For such an “honour” – to support two international big names in one night – it would be reasonable to say they certainly tried, but their songs and songwriting deserted them.
Faithless have the songs, despite a rather strange version of Insomnia, the track that put them on the international charts. It seems to be a trend among bands to deliver straight versions of album tracks that are not hits, and then get experimental with the ones that are. God is a DJ receives similar treatment, whereby the club anthem’s breaks and vocal delivery are mutated into a form that loses much of the plot. Damn it, man, we want to dance! Not to second guess where the parts have been altered.
Then again, it’s disappointing that Prodigy do give us exactly what we came for. No mucking about, or very little of it anyway. Firestarter, Breathe and Smack My Bitch Up sound just like they do when the CD player is turned up to 11. Only better. Funky Shit is funky but frankly also a bit shit without the aggressive vocals of the others, but Mindfields acquires a more powerful bassline.
The first 20 minutes of Prodigy are the best. Maxim’s rapping works with all the keyboards and loops and samples and live drumming; Giz Butt, the new guitarist used for live shows, could be used more – the man has presence.
Unfortunately, the three other permanent members of Prodigy don’t. Not really, not considering how much they’ve been hyped as essential to the Prodigy live performance. Liam Howlett we can forgive, since he’s doing all the hardcore business behind the technological machinery; which is a pity since he looked rather sexy walking offstage, and to think he’s the one that writes all the music. The two dancers, we-ell …
So Keith Flint barks on a couple of numbers – “I’m the firestarter, I’m the instigator”. Well, is he? He spends most of his time onstage looking for a purpose to be there. Apparently he’s being taught to sing, and while he’s not bad at it, please, someone give the man something constructive (or destructive) to do.
Prodigy’s show is tight and focused, but it winds down without warning. Suddenly we’re all screaming for an encore – their parting goodbye is Fuck the rhythm. Hey, fuck you too, we’re not fucking satisifed. Firstly, fuck the dud encore you gave us. Electronic punks, what else can you expect? They shaft you just when you’re comfortably thinking they’re doing it for you. And secondly, you’d better fucking come back again.
Malu van Leeuwen is music editor of SL magazine