The Prodigy3Arena★★★★★

On the floor of the 3Arena, the circle pit takes its form, an absence of space managed by those whom The Prodigy describe as warriors. Tops off. Phones down. Pints and jumpers soaring through the air.

Welcome to the 1990s in 2026. An exhilarating rave is unfolding after an outline of summer sketched itself across Dublin over the weekend just gone. The wheels are off, the energy is feral, the show is epic.

The first time The Prodigy played in what was then the Point Depot – now the 3Arena – was in May 1992, at the Heaven On Earth rave, a few months before the release of their debut album. They returned that November to headline the same venue. What followed for the guts of the 1990s was a near-annual appearance at the Point. Throughout that decade, The Prodigy toured across Ireland, but not in Cavan, where Tribal Gathering in 1995 was infamously cancelled at the Cavan Equestrian Centre. Perhaps a handful in the audience tonight even had tickets.

Also on that 1995 line-up was Carl Cox. He’s here tonight as more than a warm-up. A two-hour set from a great of the game means the hall is jointed shortly after doors open.

The fringes of this arena’s main floor aren’t the most acoustically forgiving for support acts – perhaps the equestrian centre in Cavan can relate – but closer to the stage, it’s brilliant.

He expresses his skill, attention to legacy and technical prowess. In a world of phoney DJs, there’s something beautiful about a real one on three turntables and playing only vinyl, the audience taking in tunes how they’re meant to be played, Cox only turning his back to the crowd to select the next record from his stash.

You could call it an old school night if there weren’t so many young people in the crowd, and if the production wasn’t so slick. The Prodigy were also always the most punk of massive dance acts; their sound base-heavy and brilliantly crunchy, their presentation thrillingly theatrical.

Then they arrive. Now in the form of Liam Howlett, Maxim and live members Rob Holiday and Leo Crabtree. The brilliant Keith Flint died before reaching his 59th birthday in 2019. It’s a remarkable achievement for the group to be able to not just keep going, but transmit and maintain their famous energy in the absence of such a star frontman.

Poison kicks in and we have lift off. “Is this Dublin or f**king what?” Maxim hollers at one point. The roar in response is deafening.

Firestarter, the tune that launched The Prodigy into the stratosphere, a masterpiece track – sonically, culturally, aesthetically – represents Flint as a white outline dancing on the screens, while two Dr Evil sized guns blast lasers through the arena.

The catharsis of Their Law sees the entire arena levitating. No Good (Start the Dance) instigates an eruption.

The Prodigy have more than earned their place in culture. And it’s a culture that endures. Their debut record featured a track that became the title of Jeremy Deller’s tremendous 2019 documentary on rave culture as an alternative history of Britain: Everybody In the Place.

As much as culture fragments, people want big moments. And The Prodigy are here to provide, a unifying force across generations.

The Yves Klein blue lights scroll around the crowd before the encore, and Breathe explodes. As Maxim throws bottles of water into the crowd roaring “party people in Dublin”, the enthusiasm refuses to die.

This is a relentless, blistering show. Just as they did in 1992, they return to Dublin later this year – this time at IMMA – to do it all again. What felt special, was how present the crowd was. Truly, everybody in the place.