It was officially hilarious viewing, as the trivial adolescent Dizzee Rascal fumbled across the colossal stage of Wembley Arena. An unexpected support band for the likes of the Prodigy, but once underway, it was clearly understandable; it was only an amplification of their own mind-blowing performance.
The Essex-born band was the peak of the nineties, pioneering the industrial, hardcore electric music genre. In spite of my fear as a child of Mr Keith Flint’s manic head-bobbing, selling over 16 million records worldwide, it’s no wonder that crowds come in swarms rather than trickles- a little like their melodies. Expect nothing less than an explosion.
The pungent odour of sweat shrouded the arena, and despite the slipping and sliding of ten thousand fan’s dirty perspiration, it made the ambience all the more invigorating. Every Prodigy addict beamed from the rave crater, jumping in unison to classic 90’s hits such as ‘Breathe,’ followed by a full blast of ‘Firestarter.’
Sitting what seemed to be as far as India made hailing Keith Flint slightly challenging. I highly doubt that he could see my attempt at a double horn rock gesture, nevertheless with ten thousand people doing the equivalent; my work was evidently cut out for me. The atmosphere was literally electric, as dozens of multicoloured lights strobes synchronised with the psychedelic pulsations of ‘Smack my Bitch Up.’
The only way to end the night was a breathtaking amalgamation of reggae and electronika. ‘Out of Space’ epitomized the final moments of the performance, as the audience dazed to the skanking rhythms and lingered to Voodoo People; naturally polishing off with a good old fashioned sing-a-long.
Their high-quality live sets never fail to dumbfound their audiences, definitely your money’s worth.
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