The Prodigy are into crazy shit. You know: illegal raves, Mohawks, smashing microphones and getting high off their heads on ecstasy pipes. Their early 90s old-school rave mega-records, Experience and Music For The Jilted Generation, sound-tracked endless topless, head-banging mentalist’s glory days. And they were the least subtle band of all time.
Then Liam Howlett’s rabble got huge with Firestarter, and adopted the Sex Pistols’ habit of boisterously shouting ‘fuck you’ at, say, Top Of The Pops and Zoe Ball. Invaders Must Die is the same. Police sirens wail aside schizophrenic electronica that spazzes out amongst humongous riffs, all over boisterous drums thwacked by Dave ‘I’ll do anything, me’ Grohl.
It’s relentless. And the overall vibe is of apocalyptic doom. That and sweating mad-heads with their tops off, head-banging and chewing their faces off in the King Of Hell’s personal disco. Keith Flint’s (largely shite) lyrics emphasise this. On Colours he enquires: “Are you ready for the war? Show your colours. Bring your colours to the fore”.
On Omen, he complains: “The writing’s on the wall, it won’t go away”. Sure Keith, whatever you say; just get an industrial strength cleaner, yeah? But to be fair to The Prodge, they’re not poets, and never claim to be. They’re all about ‘having it’. The only problem is, we all know the man twiddling the knobs for 2009’s oldest anarchists (Howlett), sods off back to his mansion at dusk to watch Relocation, Relocation and eat apple crumble with his Spice Girl wife. Or whatever it is she does.
Best song: The opening title track. The huge riff and old-school house mayhem explodes into dance floor madness.