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With a name that encapsulates a long and tumultuous career, the evening’s performance offered a chance to bring a united front to the fore.

An early setback was declared on A4 on the doors of Metropolis. “Wolf & Cub will not be performing tonight due to unforeseen circumstances”. The only explanation, or lack thereof, was found in a MySpace blog, dated 11/02/09 left blank.

Without the backing of a support, the gig got off to an early start. Surprising for the persons ambling in at just past half past Primal Scream when the band were making their way onto stage.

At a venue more than capable of hosting international acts, the turnout was unbefitting of the headliner’s stature. With the upstairs blocked off the downstairs still struggled to fill.

A choice pick for the locale, Kill All Hippies opened the set to the many long haired fans surrounding the stage. Kicking into new track Can’t Go Back vocal specialist Bobby Gillespie launched into his lackadaisical singing and stage performance. With no shortage of lasers, the early indifference of both band and audience was somewhat compensated by a fantastical lighting display.

Fast fingers on the faders provided support to the ailing fingers of Andrew Innes and Mani who took the cringe-worthy step of machine gunning and twirling guitars leaving a percentage of their performance to the desk.

The production crew began to take a hold of the show, with concurrently pulsing strobes and lasers lasting whole song lengths with little reprieves. Losing track of songs it became hard to recall let alone enjoy what was being presented.

However, the ageless lyricism of Primal Scream still gives guts to a band built with rock. Swastika Eyes had the band bathed in red and dragged the set out of blinding lights.

Like a gospel revival Moving On Up revitalised the band and the gig to the appreciation of the audience. Gillespie broke out of his silent pacing between songs to make clear “this one’s a rock song” and how quickly the show turned around. Rocks called the audience to action, clapping and screaming “get your rocks off, get your rocks off honey”.

Following the dynamic display, an encore was initiated to the best ability of the present audience. Starting with Damage and including radio hit Country Girl the collection of five songs offered what was longed for in a solid rock collective.

Using every effect left on the panel the desk personnel took the opportunity to quash the anticipated appreciation of the audience by deafening all as Primal Scream left the stage.

A promising start had lead to a mediocre middle and an electric finish however, the most enduring memory of the gig was the retina piercing lasers and strobes that skimmed the audience’s heads and would have resulted in an OH&S suit had the top floor been open to viewers.

Disappointingly, the excessive production tainted the magic that could have been.

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