Live Report: Super Furry Animals - Bandstand, Glasgow (06/08/16)

APPLAUSE
LOUDER
APE SHIT

Gruff Rhys has his (hash)cake and eats it with placards reading such instructions throughout tonight's show - winking at the crowd and demonstrating how charmingly post-modern he is, while also eliciting from us the exact ape-shit responses that he's asking for. Not that we need much encouragement on a relatively dry Saturday night at the tremendous Bandstand when one of the great crowd-pleasing bands is in town. Rhys' harmonica at the start of "Slow Life" beckons bodies to the front of the stage and out of their seats, where they'll remain for the next giddy hour and a half.

The SFA '16 live show isn't wildly different from the last one I saw in 2007: we still get Gruff's Power Ranger helmet and horned keyboard/gadget unit (which looks increasingly beaten-up and sorry for itself); he still chomps and hands out celery during "Receptacle for the Respectable"'s quiet section (a task performed on the studio version by none other than Paul McCartney, in a nod to his carrot-munching on "Vega-Tables" by Rhys' beloved Beach Boys). But it doesn't have to be different - the Super Furries have always recognised the importance of having skewed yet primary-coloured pop songs to capture listeners' imaginations and act as gateways to their eccentric, more experimental LPs, and, over nine albums, these songs have been stockpiled to perfection in their live set. Songs that act almost as terrace chants. Songs about black-magic dogs ("Golden Retriever"), songs that imitate telephones ("Rings Around the World"), songs with gibberish lines like "we ride tornadoes, we eat tomatoes" ("Do or Die"), songs with brattish "la la la la" refrains ("The International Language of Screaming"). Songs that could be dismissed as "lightweight" or "novelty", if they weren't so characterful and infectious.

These instant hits of pop (many of them bonafide pop hits) are countered in the set by longer, slow-growing numbers: "Zoom!" ("I can't get enough of this, kiss me with apocalips"), "Mountain People", a truly gorgeous "Run Christian Run". A vocoder interlude includes the swooning "Juxtapozed With U" and unofficial Euro 16 anthem "Bing Bong", the joyous sound of Os Mutantes playing keepie-uppie with a robot head on Copacabana Beach. One, admittedly lovely, track from their recently reissued Welsh-language album Mwng is the only obvious trip-to-the-bar opportunity.

"The Man Don't Give A Fuck" is the swear-tastic, Steely Dan-sampling closer - parents leaping to cover their young childrens' ears as the Furries gleefully drop tens of life-affirming F-bombs. As Gruff holds the side door open and his bandmates file out, my mate says "I don't see how they're gonna be able to top that". When they return in their now-famous yeti costumes (again - these have seen better days), you realise that they're not even gonna try - they just start up the song again and do more of the same...only in yeti costumes. Gruff raises his final placard (RESIST PHONEY ENCORES) and the crowd goes ape shit one last time.

THE END

Relatively-Recent Classics #3: Super Furry Animals - Radiator (1997)

Here's a question: who's consistently produced the most inventive and - more importantly - most enjoyable music of the last 20 years?

Jack White immediately springs to mind (Elephant, "Icky Thump", "Steady As She Goes", the beautiful Van Lear Rose LP he made with Loretta Lynn, those live White Stripes performances), but then again does anybody seriously find themselves thinking "I HAVE to listen to that second Dead Weather album! RIGHT now!" or declaring "I can finally die happy!" after hearing the double A-side of Howling Wolf covers that White produced for human-boom-box Tom Jones a few years back? (If you've not had the pleasure, the backing on the two songs sound like that "Another Way To Die" Bond theme tune. But less expensive, and more overblown. With Big Tom bellowing over the top of them. No...me neither).

Much of what Ryan Adams has touched has turned to gold (including Gold) but, similar to Jack, he's perhaps been too prolific for his own good, spread himself a bit thin, especially on his more recent workman-like stuff with the Cardinals. Radiohead and Bjork have both created incredible, unpredictable, uncompromising work - music as art. Never less than fascinating, and when it's been more than that it's been OK Computer or Kid A or Homogenic or Vespertine. But is their art a joy to listen to? Not always. Fun? Very rarely.

Strong arguments could be made for either Damon Albarn or PJ Harvey, and it would be very difficult to disagree - both artists will no doubt feature on the blog at some stage. However, upon reflection, I think my vote would have to go to The Greatest Living Welshman©, Gruff Rhys.

As lead singer and head head-case of the Super Furry Animals, Rhys has released nine albums since 1996, exploring a brilliantly bonkers, brilliantly British blending of indie rock and psychedelia with electronic bleeps and blops. Not a dud amongst them. On top of this, he has released three fine solo albums (if you haven't already, be sure to check out this year's American Interior), recorded the terrific Stainless Style LP as part of Neon Neon, discovered and produced the delightful Cate Le Bon, and, as a guest vocalist, lent his dulcet tones and thick vowel sounds to tracks by acts as diverse as Simian Mobile Disco, Gorillaz and Mogwai.

Those that know and love Gruff really love him, and he's been a prominent figure and a massive influence on independent and alternative British music for over a decade. But in the wider pop music scene, his group are probably best known as that band who used to drive a tank round festival sites and count Rhys Ifans as a member. They remain criminally underrated (all of that's bound to change after this piece, of course).

I'm not sure if Radiator is the Super Furries' best album (many love their big-shot-at-the-big-time, multi-media extravaganza Rings Around The World; some think that they've never bettered their Fuzzy Logic debut; my mate Grant has always favoured Phantom Power), but - today at least - it's my favourite, and it's the one that, early in their career, laid down what they were about and pointed towards where they were going.

It's detailed, ambitious and full of studio trickery (the band making full use of producer Gorwel Owen's Atari computers and vintage synthesizers), but in no way polished or '"mature". Experimental yet accessible. It showcases the band's invention and sense of humour - wild wordplay and songs populated with lovable characters in surreal situations ("Hermann loves Pauline, and Pauline loves Hermann, they made love and gave birth to a little German").

And throughout there's Gruff Rhys and his effortless way with a skewed pop tune. "Torra Fy Ngwallyt Yn Hir" is so irresistible that the small matter of it being sung in Welsh doesn't get in the way of attempting to sing along; to paraphrase another track, Gruff speaks the international language of melody, loud and clear. The singles are all absolutely killer: "Hermann Loves Pauline", "Play It Cool" with its fuzz guitar and hand-claps, the plain gorgeous "Demons".

The final section of Radiator finds Super Furry Animals characteristically stretching out: "Download" dissolving into "Mountain People", one of their finest moments, a six-minute ode to their homeland which builds to a climax of crunching electronics and laser gun sound effects.

I reckon time will be kind to the SFA. I like to think of them as the closest thing my generation has to The Beach Boys, and, in my eyes, Gruff deserves a place alongside Brian Wilson in the sandpit of mind-bending pop masters.