The Prodigy’s Keith Flint tore down barriers between dance and rock

The Prodigy’s Keith Flint burnt down the walls between rock’n’roll and dance music as the Firestarter, writes Mikey Cahill

I first heard The Prodigy on 1994 compilation Hit Machine 7, wedged between C&C Music Factory’s (still) classic Do You Wanna Get Funky and Boom Crash Opera’s Gimme.

The song was Voodoo People, a frantic rock’n’roll breakbeat cut.

I didn’t like it at first until I realised the measly Sony cassette player ghetto blaster really didn’t have the cred or balls to claim ghetto or blaster status.

“Magic people, voodoo people!” came the chant, this time on a lush Kenwood CD player. Noticeably better.

It sounded downright nasty.

ROCK CITY: MY DISCO ON A DESERT ISLAND

HERE’S TO ALL THE WOMEN WHO MADE ME A MAN

REVIEW: UNSOUND ADELAIDE BY MIKEY CAHILL

Voodoo People was a game-changer.

It ripped down the barriers between dance music and rock, kicking DJs in the teeth and stealing rockpigs’ riders. You didn’t like it? Deal with it.

The clip featured shadowy witch doctor figures traipsing through a jungle, then a long-haired loon crawled out of a suitcase in the middle of a road and was hauled into a jeep looking worse for wear.

It was the first time I saw Keith Flint.

My siblings and I sprinted around the house to Voodoo People and out onto the lawn, throwing up raver hands and doing The Running Man at double speed.

Hit Machine 7 was a family present from Santa Claus.

We thrashed it to death.

Voodoo People appeared properly on the album Music For a Jilted Generation, a Zeitgeist capturing title, spewing out hot lava, stick-it-the-man energy.

We had our very own Sex Pistols and they were from Braintree, Essex.

We wanted danger to shake up suburban life in the South Eastern growth corridor.

The Prodigy were dangerous.

Keith Flint performs on the Gold Coast.

In ‘96, my friends and I were cruising to Narre Warren service station to buy $5 Hawaiian pizzas before heading to Metro’s Goo night when Richard Kingsmill premiered The Prodigy’s Breathe on Triple J.

Time seemed to reset for a full 5mins 35.

This was the new sound.

The T-18 Toyota car nearly exploded with late-teen, low-pay, hijinks fervour.

“Breathe the pressure/ Come play my game I’ll test ya/ Psychosomatic, addict, insane.”

It was the coolest music I’d ever heard.

And it was Keith Flint snarling (he didn’t really sing) those instructions.

Breathe took their tinny sound and gave it a wide-screen feel. Keith Flint had restyled as a spiky, green-haired cyber punk with nose piercings, neck tattoos and more ‘tude than a fired-up funnel-web.

The Prodigy had levelled up.

Firestarter came out too, a deranged link between Voodoo People and Breathe and “sung” by its titular character with the firebug surname.

The Prodigy played Big Day Out at the height of their powers in 1996 and did something extraordinary, something I’d never seen before.

The quartet came on in the early evening, snarling, looking like they had a point to prove, openly chiding the organisers Lees and West for not letting them headline.

Flint pretended to headbutt the Marshall stacks and danced like a possessed shaman.

They ripped through Out of Space, Everybody In The Place, No Good (Start The Dance), Breathe, Smack My Bitch Up, Diesel Power (arguably their best song) said their goodbyes and started walking off.

Hang on.

No Firestarter?

WTF? The natives were restless.

I shoved my clearly aghast mate Paulie McNeil straight in the chest. “Surely not!?”

Ten agonising seconds passed.

Back came Keith with a cheeky, evil leer, strutting like Oliver Twist’s Artful Dodger, followed by his equally-pleased-with-themselves band members Maxim, Leeroy and Liam Howlett.

The new millenium’s pre-eminent punks had punked us.

That lacerating guitar line rang out, the ominous synths were deployed, big beat drums thundered in paired up with a torso quivering bassline.

“I’m the trouble stater, punkin’ instigator,” Keith spat.

He looked bigger than King Kong on the giant LED screens, eyes agog, arms akimbo.

“I’m a firestarter, twisted firestarter.”

The main acts had their work cut out for them; Soundgarden and Offspring were adequate but nobody could hold a candle to the Firestarter.

Keith was spellbinding.

They returned to the Big Day Out in 2002 (they were good but a bit off the boil, playing arguably Keith Flint’s worst song Baby’s Got a Temper) then again to headline the Boiler Room in 2009. Keith, Maxim and Liam were all smiles for the press, congenial, proper English gents.

Flint at Big Day Out in 2009.

You could tell they knew if they were going to keep doing this Prodigy thing for the rest of their lives they should keep the media onside.

Keith charmed everyone.

The Prodigy’s set was great, then it grated, then great again. Howlett — always the mastermind behind all the arrangements and production — had lost touch with what was really happening with electronic dance music at the time.

Keith was engaged, sticking his tongue out like a blue tongue lizard, wringing every last drop of menace from his demented, sweating face. “We’re not leaving until this tent comes down!” shouted Maxim.

The Prodigy kept making albums and had a return to form of sorts with No Tourists last year, followed by a well received tour of Australia.

Flint in Germany in 1997. Picture: AP

In his later years he ran a pub in Essex called The Leather Bottle in Pleshey.

Flint kept a swear-box above the fireplace and apparently whenever he’d put logs and kindling in and someone piped up with the obvious joke, he’d point to it and charge them a quid.

There had been scarce reports he had mental health issues.

Last weekend, friends dropped around to his house, concerned for his wellbeing.

He was found dead, aged 49, the cause not yet specified.

Howlett posted on The Prodigy’s Instagram: “The news is true, I can’t believe I’m saying this but our brother Keith took his own life over the weekend. I’m shell shocked, f—kin angry, confused and heart broken .....r.i.p brother Liam.”

RIP Keith Flint.

Thanks for making us feel like magic people, voodoo people.

Sad to wake up to the news that we lost Keith Flint, a true original.
The Prodigy have made a huge contribution to dance culture and electronic music around the world. Keith’s contribution as the band’s iconic front man was immense and he will be dearly missed R.I.P xx pic.twitter.com/1wB0PhN1Gd

— Pete Tong mbe (@petetong) March 4, 2019

I can’t believe it. your music was woven ever so tightly through my younger years. I spent endless days & nights listening to The Fat of The Land. I can safely say The Prodigy changed my life. RIP Keith 💜😢 thankyou for all your incredible music endless inspiration & wild energy pic.twitter.com/L4Pq2bDzrA

— OPIUO (@OPIUO) March 4, 2019

Music for the jilted generation (alongside offspring smash and a nirvana album on the same day) was the first album I bought with my own money. I was lucky enough to see the prodigy live. One of the best shows I have ever seen. Rip Keith pic.twitter.com/gvaFcKiBKc

— ALISON WONDERLAND (@awonderland) March 4, 2019

[e-mail]

@joeylightbulb