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Keith Flint of The Prodigy dead

First dance act to headline the Pyramid at Glastonbury. They fucking rocked it too.

I wish I'd been there to see that gig. I was so excited about it that I spent the whole day that day watching bands on the Pyramid stage, so I could be down the front for when they came on. I enjoyed Dennis Pennis before them, and the Bishop of Bath and Wells giving a speech before their gig too iirc, but when they came on the crowd surged forward, I realised I'd not eaten anything all day, and nearly passed out in the crush. Had to get a security person to pull me out over the barrier and just go and sit down in the market with some food. Gutted!
 
I don't think I've seen another act so charged with energy. Wonderful memories, live and through the headphones over many years.

It's sobering to learn he took his own life. This shit is real and we need to be much more aware (especially as men) to look out for each other.

I had a spate of my old college mates from the mid-90's messaging each other today. All feeling sad and a lot older, but reliving those charged up, optimistic and happy times. Memories too deep to forget.
 
Had to share this epic tribute post from the Guardian comments. One of the acts you wish you had seen live.

It's August 1996. Oasis have sold out Knebworth, and have made a seemingly incongruous decision to have Prodigy as their main support act. 150,000 lads and ladettes, all essaying the Liam Gallagher swagger, are standing around, expecting to be annoyed by these cartoonish rave lunatics that have gatecrashed their Britpop zenith and that are the only thing between them and their moment in the sunset. The Fat Of The Land is still ten months away from being released.

Smirking, Liam Howlett walks out onto the stage and up onto his riser, behind a bank of synths and laptops. His hair is a spiked up mess, the colour of the insides of a Crunchie. He's wearing a pair of camouflage shorts. The gigantic screens beam his face across the far flung fields as he stands there, sneering, smirking. There is a discontented "how long til Oasis?" type chuntering in the massed crowds. What's he smirking at? What does he know that we don't? How long will this go on for?

He leans forward and down, crouching over a console. Presses a button. A strange Casio-style looped chopped bunch of notes stutters out of the speakers for about five seconds, followed by a flattened out non-bass bass note for another ten or so seconds. What's wrong? Are the speakers all underpowered?
What's going on? Plenty of confused looks. Pretty much nobody in the crowd has ever heard this before, whatever "this" is. Still, Howlett smirks. because he knows what we don't know. He knows what's coming, and nothing will ever be the same again once it arrives.

Because these are the first few notes of "Smack My Bitch Up".

BLAM! The bass kicks in. Swirling, flailing, Flint, Thornhill and Maxim careen onto the stage.

150,000 lads and ladettes, in boot cut jeans and plaid shirts, all explode. They have no choice. They don't own their limbs or their bodies any more. They are the Prodigy's to do with as they will. Beer everywhere. Bodies everywhere. Mayhem.

For a generation - a generation half a step behind that Jilted Generation, life would never be the same again.

I was there. I'll never forget how it made me feel. That vicious hedonistic cocktail of fireballs and fury and pantomime lunacy was a perfect moment. Whatever possessed them to do it, to take that direction, it never would have happened if one of the four of them hadn't been there. Thornhill, all elastic limbs and Matrix style slow-mo dancing to full-tilt beats. Maxim, staring down the whole crowd, the intimidator, the hype man. Howlett, the wizard behind the curtain. And Flint, Satan's own glove puppet, sent to petrify every parent, every grandparent, every child, and half of the rest of us too.

We came, we played his game.

It felt life-changing to me that day. I think in some ways, it was.

Jump forward some 19 years on, to May 2015, I was able to take my younger step-son - an out and out rock and metal head - to see Prodigy at Birmingham's tiny O2 Academy as they warmed up for the arena tour that would follow later that year. Live, they remained every bit as vital, as visceral and as comic-book violent as they had been the first time. The torch had been passed to a new generation, and still it burned with all its original fury.

RIP Keith. And thanks for the memories.

Guys profile.
 
Feeling really fucking sad about Keith dying. Kind of feels like the end of a massively important stage of the original rave generation's lives. I saw the Prodigy in 1991, just before Charly hit, when they were in harlequin suits, gangly legs and crazy dancing, and again last November, still the kings of rave with added fuck you punk attitude, an audience of faithful 40something pill heads keeping the vibe alive.

So fucking glad to have had them as a constant through growing up. Keeping it real.

Gutted :( RIP you fucking nutter :)
 
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Not one of my best shots - but one hell of a performance. More energy than almost any other band I've seen!

My office subdued today - I think everyone here was a fan and our sound engineer worked their last show here. :(
That's a great shot - and a really human pic of Keith.
 
I went for a slog around the park at lunchtime, listening to an old bootleg. Keith was singing "I got the poison, I got the remedy"

 
Was sad to hear this news. I don't really have anything brilliant to say, other than it being tragic. Saw them perform a few times at various events over the years. My condolences to his nearest and dearest.
 
Heard the news on Facebook. Keith Flint is one of those people who contributed to the soundtrack of my life. I haven't had the privilege of seeing The Prodigy live, and I hope it doesn't come across as selfish to express my regret at no longer being able to experience the full ensemble.

RIP Keith, my life was one of the millions that your work has touched.
 
I never ended up seeing them - I was lamenting just a few days ago that seeing Oasis instead of the Prodigy at Glastonbury 1995 was probably the worst decision I ever made.
I was there, they were delayed coming on stage and after about 45 minutes (iirc) the crowd was getting quite ramped up and I got fed up waiting and left. Can't remember where to, not Oasis. Wish I'd stayed.
 
Had to share this epic tribute post from the Guardian comments. One of the acts you wish you had seen live.



Guys profile.
nice story, but it's britpop revisionism - The Prodigy & Oasis fanbase always had a massive crossover, and they had been headlining rock festivals for years by 1996. Music for the Jilted Generation was the Prodigy album all the indie fans got into, not Fat of the Land.
 
I didn't even like Fat of The Land all that much. Except for 'Smack My Bitch Up' and 'Funky Shit' which are both ace tunes. I don't mind much of it but Firestarter and Breathe were so overplayed on the radio and telly it began to get irritating.

Also, by the time it came out, they'd stratosphered into mainstream pop culture and Flint had been marketed as some kind of punk characature rather than the awesome dancer who partnered with Leeroy on much of the Experience/Jilted Generation years which I loved.

Of course none of that is Flint's fault. He was by all accounts a throughly sound guy. But there was a clearly massive shift between '95 and '96 when Firestarter was released. For me, their peak was Glastonbury '95.



 
I saw The Prodigy several times between 1992 and 1996 and they were definitely my favourite live act for a while, during the mid-1990s when metal and punk almost died.

There's nothing I can say about KF and what he's done and how I feel, that's not being said. Another sadness in a tragic fucking world.
 
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