Primal Scream / Suicide / Conrad Standish – Diamonds, Furcoat, Champagne

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The main attraction here sucks, even though Primal Scream had the most potential promise of any of the lead acts of the four EPs celebrating Alan Vega’s 70th birthday. Bobby Gillepsie sings Suicide’s greatest tune without any of that, backed by pseudo-sexual female vocals by someone named Miss Kittin; the guitars and drums stomp around aimlessly. Infinitely better is Conrad Standish’s version, which as far as I can tell, is his/their only release; a slow-burn version of the song in the style of early Suicide: creeping bass-line, wafts of vocals, shards of guitar. And speaking of, there’s a demo of the best song from Suicide’s debut album here, and as a demo, it’s not relevatory. But you get the punch of the studio version, the feeling of being the titular character, weaving in and out of traffic on the highway. Carpe noctem in a chord. R.I.P., Alan Vega.

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