The Primitives / Frankie & the Outs / Palomar
The Bell House, May 8

The Primitives formed in Coventry, England in 1985 and in the two following years released some singles on their label Lazy that John Peel playlisted, prompting RCA to acquire Lazy. The time was right for a jangly guitar pop band fronted by a blonde bombshell, and in 1988 the Primitives became one of the most popular British bands on the strength of the hit single "Crash" (#5 on the English singles chart, #3 on the Modern Rock Tracks chart in the U.S.), the lead-off track on their debut LP Lovely, and a follow-up single, "Way Behind Me" (#8). Their 1989 sophomore LP Pure, was not quite as popular but still yielded a few more Modern Rock Tracks charters ("Sick of It" at #9, "Secrets" at #12). Then it was three years before third LP Galore appeared, but their time had passed; RCA didn't even deign to release it in the U.S. and the band broke up.

They weren't forgotten, though -- one doesn't forget as striking a front woman as Tracy Tracy. Their BBC radio sessions were compiled at least twice, as were their Lazy recordings -- they've had twice as many compilation albums as they originally had LPs. Then last year original bassist Steve Dullaghan died, and though I haven't heard/seen it clearly stated, that seemed to prompt a reunion, complete with work on a new album of covers of obscure female-sung oldies. After a few shows last year and a British tour this year, they finally made it over here for a one-off gig played with borrowed gear.

The Bell House was swarming with middle-aged fans showering adoration on Tracy Tracy (show photo above by Randy Haecker). When Tracy reached center stage, she asked "Are you ready?" and followed up with "We're not." (A foreshadowing of trouble ahead.) Someone shouted, "We missed you," and she answered, "We missed you too." The set kicked off with the 1987 single "Everything Shining Bright' and the fanatics crowding against the stage were singing along immediately. It would not be smooth sailing, though; guitarist Paul "PJ" Court had technical problems that caused him to drop out on the third song, "Dream Walk Baby"; the result was a drum and bass accompanied version that was actually pretty interesting. Afterward while the problem was being worked on, a fan loudly proclaimed, "We don't care about the guitar sound, we just want to hear you sing," but Tracy was having none of that, responding, "I care." They then reprised "Dream Walk Baby" with guitar. As they started "Thru the Flowers," the guitar problems cropped up again and the band left the stage until finally they were fixed for good.

After that the flow of the set was unimpeded, and Tracy ruled the stage with sexy dance moves accentuated by her form-fitting dress while the band ran through most (though not all) of the favorites -- it was a little surprising that "Out of Reach" and to a lesser extent "Secrets" went unplayed, not at all unexpected that none of the songs that Court sang lead on were played (they were good in the flow of Pure, but in concert nothing should take the spotlight off Tracy). "Crash" was extended, justly serving as the centerpiece just before we got a little taste of what the reunited lineup is working on: "Need All the Help I Can Get," a Lee Hazlewood song originally sung by Suzi Jane Hokum in 1966 but performed in pure Primitives style. Can't wait to hear more!

The mood turned serious for the last song of the set. Tracy announced "(We've) Found a Way to the Sun" as written by Dullaghan and said it "had a lot to do with us getting back together."

Amid such a love-fest, an encore was inevitable, and "Nothing Left" received an extended treatment, with Tracy turning "I got nothing left to say" into a mantra. That long coda may have taken its toll on her voice, though, as she sounded ragged on the high notes of the evening's sole selection from the accursed Galore, "You Are the Way." No matter; nothing could dim this triumphant return.

The opening bands deserve notice as well. Palomar's seven-song set started weakly, but I ascribe that to the soundman taking a couple of songs to figure out the mix in the cavernous space, which was sparsely populated at that point. Once the sound improved, which is to say, once the drums weren't too loud and the vocals weren't buried, the quartet of three women (two guitarists, one doubling on keyboard, and a bassist) and one guy (the drummer) proved themselves adept indie-rockers with an attractive sound. Or should I say sounds? When the songs included the electric keyboard, they had a retro '80s tinge, while the catchy riffs of the two-guitar lineup more resembled the modern Brooklyn indie sound, but with winsome melodies bolstered by some three-part harmonies. Alas, nothing could make the lyrics audible.

Next came Frankie & the Outs, led by Frankie Rose, drummer of Vivian Girls. Her move out front to lead vocals and guitar sounds good, but hard to categorize. Stadium-ready riffs heavy on echo, reverb, and distortion allied with a girl-group-derived vocal style on extremely quirky short songs that never had verses, just refrains and bridges broken up by brief instrumental sections. Though there was a sense of fragmented ditties, the brevity and odd structure were repeated so much that the effect was obviously intentional, and kind of intriguing. And just when I found myself wishing that the droney between-songs bits of noodling would be developed further, they were on the slower fifth song. I'm curious to hear how this band develops. - Steve Holtje

Mr. Holtje is a Brooklyn-based poet and composer who splits his time between editing Culturecatch.com, working at the Williamsburg record store Sound Fix, and editing cognitive neuroscience books for Oxford University Press. No prizes for guessing which pays best.