The Prodigy for The Guardian

The Prodigy are sitting around a table in a King’s Cross boozer, riled by what’s become of rave culture. “Dance music at the moment is so fucking dead,” spits Liam Howlett, still with his trademark Romford Thom Yorke mullet – and still with his trademark venom. “Producers are too safe, they rely on being retro. It’s fucking bollocks. There’s no pushing forward any more.”

“I hate to be the guy that’s like, ‘It’s not like it used to be’, but there is a grain of truth in it,” agrees Keith Flint, chucking back another Jägerbomb (“I can drink,” he notes drily).

Meanwhile, Maxim – the more relaxed of the trio – interjects with the kind of soundbites that music editors dream of. “Yeah, the dance scene has flatlined and we’re the spike.”…

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