The Prodigy

Academy, Glasgow

IT’S carnage out there. So when Prodigy MC Maxim repeatedly rallied his “Prodigy warriors”, it really did feel like going into battle. There is a pumped-up aggression coursing through a Prodigy show, which can be a blessing and a curse. The charged energy which circulates between band and audience makes them the ideal band to blow off steam to – the capacity crowd at this sweaty show were with them all the way.

But the relentless son et lumiere barrage from their bruising marriage of hardcore techno and punk rock can wear thin, like a repeated sock in the jaw. And there is no truck with ballads or acoustic interludes during which to catch your breath.

The Prodigy’s development over the last three decades is not unlike the trajectory of their gigs. They started out in a rave frenzy – as exemplified here by Everybody In the Place, with its jabbering electro hook and crashing drums, and a frenetic tooled-up encore rendition of No Good (Start the Dance) which was at times closer to speed metal than happy hardcore – then Qdos script co-written by Alan Mchugh and Jonathan Kiley, that the panto feels like a giant doughnut, glittery and tasty, but with a hole in the middle.

Which is a pity; because everything else is in place for a brilliant traditional Glasgow panto, not least a storming and often hilarious central performance from Greg Mchugh – aka Gary Tank Commander– as Jack’s naughty brother, eager to upstage him at every turn. Gayle Telfer Stevens and Louise Mccarthy,

simply ramped up the rock influence and dug in their heels for the long haul.

New track resonate stuck to the trusty formula – hysterical techno backdrop, propulsive skittering beat, speeded-up vocal samples and blaring interjections from Maxim. Meanwhile, fellow frontman Keith Flint flexed his muscles all over Firestarter and other mid-90s rave rock classics, keeping something in reserve for mighty metallic encore number Their Law, which generated the biggest moshpit of an already wild night.

FIONA SHEPHERD