GLSTNBRY

Primal Scream have been having something of a night of it; starting by swearing their arsecheeks off on TV and ending being escorted from the stage in a storm of boos.

BBC THREE were always playing with fire having Mani and Bobby on - Bobby didn't seem to know he was on live television; Mani didn't care, wearing his strange hat which made him look like Fozzie Bear running an on-course bookies and swearing like a drunk uncle at his nephew's wedding. Apologies are made on their behalf.

Then it's over for them taking the stage. Still pre-watershed, Mani swears even before the band are on the stage properly. (They come on to, but don't play, Come Together). Bobby throws more fucks around as part of a set of attrition - goading the audience, spitting into the lens of a camera, goading the crowd some more.

The trouble is, there's not really any point to the swearing other than it being there for its own sake, and far from adding a sense of rock and roll to the proceedings, it undermines it a little, just as their sub-Stones posturing clutters their performance and stops them from being truly mind-blowing.

We do wonder if Gillespie has more in common with Ronald Reagan than you'd think. Reagan, as he got closer and closer towards putting his faith to the ultimate test, was basically a shambling shell of a man who only came alive when given the chance to perform. Off-stage, Bobby seems to be able to do little more than gasp through the motions, but on-stage, he's full of vim. A front man able to distract attention from the middle-aged spread of much of his henchmen; capable and ready to deliver.

And, musically, the Primals are now at a point in their career where they have more than enough great moments to fill any set, even though you don't/can't get the full hit through the television. As with a good joke, you had to be there.

But the Primals haven't got to survive this long without turning into U2 without knowing how to shoot themselves in the feet, over and over again, and tonight they do it again. It's probably only TV viewers who see the moment in Swastika Eyes where Bobby stands, staring into the camera with, I swear, actual demon in him, before giving a seig heil salute. It's only as he gets his hand to his upper lip to add a Hitler moustache that he seems to come to, realises he's the wrong side of an acceptable line, and quickly goes back to thrashing his arms around.

It's the crowd in the field who get the full force of Bobby's ability to just piss everyone off, though: having called them hippies all set long, he suddenly decides he wants to stay and entertain. Glastonbury, however, want him off so Basement Jaxx can come on. Bobby tries to bargain with the audience, and attempts to launch into another song. Security intervene and gently unpack the primals from the stage. Gillespie's microphone, stand and all, ends up flying towards the crowd. It's hard to tell if the boos running through the audience are showing their disapproval of the Primal's attitude, or at their forced removal, but it seems to be more the former than the latter.

Either way: the bad tempered ending and the general petulance throughout managed to downgrade what could have been one of those Glasto moments everyone hopes for into something a little less comfortable. In the wrong ways.

music glastonbury primal scream bobby gillespie