Live Review: The Prodigy, Enschway

There are many an English lad and ladette and an expected smattering of old ravers, whose mesh singlets are still holding up from the '90s – if only the same could be said for their once-neon-now-faded wristbands and shin-grazer boardies. It’s a balmy night for big beats, and this healthy turnout on the last night of the Australia Day long weekend is a pleasing surprise. There are no back-to-work blues, only high energy and bouncing souls down the hill at the Riverstage. 

The bar has been doing ample trade since the gates opened, and one can only surmise that the bustling queues this early in the evening is due to the party machine pull of Sydney deckmaster Enschway. With a straggly blonde mop and ho-hum black tee and shorts, he could be any other skater or surfer misfit from the city. But don’t be fooled, this youngster is a loose unit with a deft hand on the dial. With composer-like flicks at his deck before him, he commands attention while switching from chunky mash-ups of Bomfunk MC’s Freestyler, Kanye’s Stronger, blink-182’s All The Small Things and Rage Against The Machine’s Killing In The Name, all the while having a mad time jumping around with his audience. The way he winds things up with just a simple build and mega crunchy drop make Enschway one to watch.

A few hundred people who were previously content presiding over proceedings from atop the hill leg it down to the front, and luckily for them their hastiness is very soon rewarded. A simple changeover has smoke hissing into the damp air and heralds the arrival of the original electronica giants of Essex. The Prodigy have become a well-oiled machine of five players since their humble but noisy start back in 1990. One wonders if age will eventually catch up with manic frontmen Maxim and Keith Flint; they certainly don’t show any signs of slowing down. They pitch the audience into incessant bouncing and air punching with mega-hit Breathe first up, before shedding a full fur suit (Maxim) and white leather with black fringe (Flint) as they launch into Nasty and Voodoo People. Despite Flint’s pierced and tatted flesh and trademark horn locks - on top of raving around like an escaped lunatic - it’s Maxim’s intimidating gaze that draws the eye, especially in crisp chugger The Day Is My Enemy. Flint’s Firestarter is a bit buried under the chaos, but a faultless Light Up The Sky more than makes up for it.

As shirtless, sweaty blokes emerge from the side of the pit after a trip over the barrier and merciful rain sloshes down, closer Smack My Bitch Up sends the crowd into a state of messy nostalgia. It’s the perfect highlight from an evening of pure fun and loose raving.