Primal Scream have done it again. With “Come Ahead”, their 13th (!) album, they drag us back to a time when rave, rock, and rebellious energy collided in a beautiful mess that felt both dangerous and divine. The band, led by Bobby Gillespie and reunited with original guitarist Andrew Innes, has teamed up with producer David Holmes for a record that is equal parts homage and reinvention. For anyone looking for a fix of nostalgia with a twist, “Come Ahead” promises an immersive escape, like stepping back to a foggy basement club in 1991 but with the polish and poise that comes from decades of evolution.
Right out of the gate, Gillespie gets deeply personal. The album’s opener, “Ready to Go Home,” pays tribute to his late father, with gospel-infused female vocals and swooning disco strings that transform grief into a shimmering anthem of resilience. It’s a grand, heart-on-sleeve opener that drapes 70s soul in lush orchestration, a genre mash-up so quintessentially Primal Scream. The song evokes both melancholy and triumph, a fitting sentiment as Gillespie confronts both personal and societal ghosts.
Back in action are the female vocalists who turned Screamadelica‘s rave classics into anthems of ecstasy. Their voices add soulful, sometimes bittersweet layers, sweetening the record’s disco and blues undertones. Tracks like “Love Insurrection” gleam with echoes of Nile Rodgers’ signature guitar licks and Philly soul grooves, creating a sleek disco feel that’s unexpectedly joyous for an album punctuated by heavy themes.
Yet Come Ahead isn’t strictly a disco revival; it’s a sonic playground where blues, soul, and funk are as welcome as moments of raw punk energy. Gillespie, always genre-fluid, laces tracks with grit and vulnerability. In “False Flags,” he dives into his father’s military background, capturing the tensions between duty and disillusionment. The song is rich with bluesy undertones, evoking a smoky, reflective vibe that feels timeless and raw.
The album’s finale, ‘Settlers Blues’, with its elegiac David Gilmour guitars, is perhaps its most unexpected moment. Here, Gillespie sheds the glitter for a blistering critique of colonialism, weaving in references to Irish history and the enduring scars of English imperialism. It’s politically charged, pulling no punches as it connects past injustices to the present, underscoring that the rebellious, defiant spirit of Primal Scream is far from dulled.
Will these new songs become classics in the same way Screamadelica did? Likely not. This album feels less like a declaration and more like a reverie, as if Gillespie is inviting us to revisit our younger, wilder selves while knowing full well we’re not the same people we were. But Come Ahead taps into something beautiful: a potent nostalgia that’s as addictive as it is ephemeral, conjuring the thrill of a bygone era without succumbing to it.
Bobby Gillespie is still that edgy figure in the shadows, offering us one more night of forbidden thrill. With Come Ahead, he invites us to dance in the half-light, savoring every note as if it’s still 1991—but with a little more wisdom, and perhaps, just a hint of the bittersweet and the certainty of transitoriness.
