Gillespie describes his background growing up in the driech, crowded tenements of a post-industrial Glasgow with wonderful accuracy, really bringing the casual violence alive with the same conviction as he does the enduring beauty, illustrating the complexity, showing that there was light and hope seeping through the cracks of the crime and deprivation that could often plague these areas.
I had no idea that Gillespie was at school with Creation Records founder, Alan McGee (McGee was in the year above him) and the origin story of that relationship made for interesting reading. I enjoyed the story about Joe Strummer being in a record shop in Glasgow, on the day The Clash were scheduled to play a gig there. Strummer was accosted by some punks and one drove him up in a motorbike to Strathclyde uni, where he went up to the desk to buy a ticket for his own gig and they asked to see his matriculation card, when he said he didn’t have one they told him he couldn’t buy a ticket. He cancelled the gig there on the spot.
The editing could have been a little sharper, as this suffers from unhelpful repetition of phrases and description, there are also a few full page photos with zero descriptions?...and some of the finer details to do with bands and music are inaccurate too, which feels a tad lazy. I did have a good laugh when he was given an ultimatum to stay on at The Jesus & Mary Chain or continue with Primal Scream and then when he is replaced by a drum machine he concludes that, “I was irreplaceable.” Er ego/reality check son…I think it was more the case that your drumming was so forgettable that you were so easily replaced by a drum machine.
Gillespie certainly has a high enough opinion of his music, but of course excess and indulgence are good ways of disguising or distracting from largely mediocre music. I’d say that “Screamadelica” has to be one of the most over rated albums of the 90s. Primal Scream were many things, but so much of their music is derivative to the point of pastiche, their debut, although it has some lovely songs on it like “Gentle Tuesday” and “Silent Spring”, it still sounds like a group of young boys trying to sound like their heroes from the 60s West Coast. Then there’s the likes of 1994’s “Give Out…” a bloated mess, which was like listening to a pub band doing half-hearted Stones covers.
I was pleasantly surprised by how well this reads and how sharp a writer the frontman can be when he is in the mood, having bought some of their albums over the years, I would say I was a fan of Primal Scream, but I’ve always thought Gillespie was a bit of a knob. This account proves that his talents clearly extend to writing in the longer form and this was an interesting enough read.
There is a lot of good stuff in here, particularly about the burgeoning Indie music scene taking shape in Scotland in the late 70s and early 80s, with the likes of Altered Images, Strawberry Switchblade and the JAMC. His recollections of rummaging through Glasgow’s old record shops were nicely told, recalling a time that will never exist again thanks to the internet. Though we could have done without the many drug related stories, which for want of a better expression, are just not very interesting and just come across as cringe worthy.
This runs to over 400 pages and yet even then it only gets as far as the anticipated release of “Screamadelica” in 1991, which almost certainly means that we are in danger of getting a follow up, in keeping with the recent, cynical trend of publishers where they realise that they can squeeze out two or three books, from the one life story, as seen with the likes of Moby, Flea and Jimmy Barnes et al. I still think he’s a bit of a knob.