1996 The Prodigy: Breathe

I was minded to start off this write up by describing my relief at the timely cavalry of The Prodigy galloping over the horizon to pull me free from the bog of recent tedium I've been mired in. But then I paused for thought. And the thought was 'Am I getting a bit predictable'? In looking back over recent years, a trend for black or white polarisation seems to be developing - the scope for surprise amongst the songs I've been writing about has lessened to the point where it's almost possible to gauge my views on any particular entry by virtue of the artist alone with no particular need to read any further. I mean, is there really any need to plough through four hundred-odd words to work out that I'm not going to be keen on Boyzone? And conversely, is it worth reading on here to be able to second guess that I'm going to like 'Breathe'? Both reviews could elicit a Mandy Rice Davies "Well he would say that, wouldn't he"? dismissal to undermine anything I have to say - good or bad - before I even say it.

To that I have no answer, save to say that I can only speak as I find and that I'm not going to apologise for preferring The Prodigy to Robson and Jerome; there's no doubt a certain cynicism born of frustration that takes over whenever yet another cover version pop up in front of me for a write up and it's a cynicism that falls away when presented with the hornets nest lobbed into the middle of a family picnic that is 'Breathe'. Less ragged than 'Firestarter' and more danceable but with no less attitude for it, 'Breathe' is kept kettled by the riot police in a confinement where it rattles and rails against the bars but never breaks loose into self destruction. And it's this combination of control and tension that gives 'Breathe' its brooding menace, helped in no small way by Keith Flint's "Come play my game" vocal jibes that drip with twisted menace enough for Aphex Twin to purloin their tone for his (even more menacing and twisted) "I want your soul"s on 1997's 'Come To Daddy'. Just like the cover, 'Breathe' is a fish out of water in this chart line-up.

And I guess that it goes to confirm why, even in this lull, the charts can still delight in their contrasts. In a Venn diagram of the 'real world', the twin spheres of The Prodigy and Robson and Jerome would barely intersect (if they even intersect at all). Yet here they are, strange bedfellows thrown together like random passengers across a table on a train where one's a yob who wants to test every ringtone on his mobile on maximum volume while the other just wants to read a book. The contrast and conflict doesn't make 'Breathe' any better the same way it doesn't make its neighbours any worse, but it does go to show just why I persist in my documenting every number one and why, even at its lowest ebb, I never get bored with music.