The Enmore Theatre hums with a restless energy tonight, the kind that hangs heavy in the air when a band like Primal Scream is about to take the stage. In 2025, their influence remains undeniable, cited as influences from the post-punk grit of Fontaines D.C. to the glossy pop of Dua Lipa. But tonight isn’t just about their legacy — it’s a celebration of the now, as the band marks their return with Come Ahead, their first studio album in eight years, released in November 2024.
Come Ahead’s lead singles are already making waves. ‘Love Insurrection’ is a defiant, high-energy anthem, while the brooding ‘Deep Dark Waters’ has captivated fans with its haunting intensity. The album’s tracks showcase frontman Bobby Gillespie’s songwriting at its most vulnerable and introspective. In fact, The Guardian has described Gillespie’s lyrics on Come Ahead as his “most personal set of lyrics to date,” highlighting the emotional depth of this new chapter for the band.
Opening for Primal Scream tonight, Naarm’s Gut Health bring their electrifying energy to the stage. Fresh off the release of their debut album Stiletto in October 2024, the band delivers a visceral punch of sound that feels tailor-made for a night like this. Their presence is raw, their grooves infectious, and they’re already proving why they’re a name you won’t want to sleep on.
Bobby Gillespie strides onto the stage, resplendent in a white suit, the picture of rock ‘n’ roll mythology—impossibly thin, impossibly cool. To his left, Simone Butler wields her bass like a weapon, all tension and menace in head-to-toe black, locking down the rhythm with a precision that feels almost violent in its authority. Andrew Innes, grinning like a kid who can’t believe his luck, wrings every bit of joy from his guitar, his energy bouncing off the capacity crowd who lean forward as if the stage might swallow them whole. Behind them, Darrin Mooney keeps the chaos anchored, his drumming relentless and exact.
They launch into Swastika Eyes, a thunderclap of a song that feels surgically aimed at the moment we’re living in. Its jagged edges cut through the haze of the venue, a not-so-subtle nod to the political hellscape that colours everything now. Next up is Love Insurrection, a standout from the new album, its lyrics striking like a call to arms: “The planet’s on fire, and peace remains a dream.” In a year where apocalyptic undertones feel less like metaphor and more like the nightly news, the song lands with chilling precision.
The band wastes no time pivoting between old favourites and freshly minted anthems, each track a tether between their feral beginnings and their evolving, sharper edges. By the end of the night, the entire crowd surges as one, screaming “Here we fucking go!” – even a member of Amyl and the Sniffers is in the throng, a blur of ecstatic motion, proving some nights the music is just too good to stay on the sidelines.
It’s a protest and a party in equal measure. Primal Scream, nearly four decades in, are still pushing boundaries and commanding attention.
