The Prodigy / Public Enemy @ SSE Hydro, 23 Nov

The seasons change but Chuck D’s mischievous introduction to Rebel Without A Pause speaks for Public Enemy’s ever steady middle finger and general unwillingness to surrender to the beige homogeneity of your typical call and response rap show. While the plight of mainstream hip-hop's class of 2015 might be largely egocentric, it’s heartening to see that PE are still out here grinding for the greater cause some 33 years into a maverick career. Why stop and celebrate with a biopic when you’re still living it?

Granted, they occasionally lose a little momentum in the scrum ("It's like the Johnny Carson show," Chuck laughs at one point, briefly showing his age and shaking his head during an improvised instrumental breakdown which ends with the band scratching its arse) but the righteous fury of salient calling cards like 911 Is A Joke and Can't Truss It feels undeniably prescient in such politically aggressive times. 

While Chuck largely lets the lyrics do the talking (beyond confessing that he'd have been a 'Yes' on Scotland's referendum), it's Flava Flav – increasingly distancing himself from the court jester routine he made his name with – who predominantly steps up on the soapbox tonight, hammering home a simple message of anti-racism that unites the crowd in attitude. 

Tapping Public Enemy as your support band? You'll need some nerve. Trust Braintree's original techno lords to push the PA's bass to lower depths. "Bring the noise," snarls Maxim, reiterating their pioneering tour mates’ mantra as the Hydro finally begins to fill. With maestro Liam Howlett at his back and fellow hypeman Keith Flint on the mic, it’s a team effort from the start as they launch into Breathe and send the plastic pints flying.

A career-spanning set in the truest sense, a page is torn from every chapter of The Prodigy playbook (besides 2004’s criminally glossed over Always Outnumbered, Never Outgunned), whether it’s the energised breakbeats that propelled them from warehouse raves to the Top of the Pops back in 1991 (see a thunderous, rare airing for Everybody in the Place) to their assimilation of obnoxious punk rock aesthetics that came later (from the free party backing Their Law onwards).

Announced by a formulaic lead single (Nasty) which bordered on self-parody and a disorienting tracklist that might have benefitted from a trim and shuffle, sixth LP The Day Is My Enemy proved divisive with their substantial fanbase, but tonight reveals itself as a potent source of live material. Teeming with a visceral energy that’s hard to emulate, the likes of Wild Frontier and Roadblox invite a primal response that their perceived spiritual successors can rarely touch when it's all said and done.

Nearly 90 minutes of keeping the levels up at full bore and the audience in the palm of their hand, the most fervent reaction manifests for 1994’s No Good (Start the Dance), the dirty dancefloor classic that blew The Prodigy's appeal and potential open beyond anybody's expectations and still sounds like the future. There can’t be anywhere else to go, surely?

"It's the fuckin' anthem,” Maxim growls. “Sound men of the 21st century – turn it up!" With its sampled, misconstrued lyric originally from the abstract mind of a young Kool Keith (who has always been more about absurdity than sentiment), it's controversial enough just to play Smack My Bitch Up on a pub jukebox, let alone demand that 13,000 fans crouch then jack in the box for that explosive last chorus. But it’s like Chuck boomed earlier in the night: ‘Rock with some pizzazz / It will last.’ An attitude our co-hosts practice harder than most.