Super
Furry Animals, 'Lightning Fryday'
@ London Royal Festival Hall, 1st October 2004
This celebratory gig coincides with the release of SFA’s singles
collection ‘Songbook’. The band have been around long enough
to release a Greatest Hits with impunity, but they still deserve more
recognition: a band who can create both indie-club jumpers and music
to lie down to. Maybe their expansive worldview – words about
everything from international affairs to obscure cartoons – is
interpreted too often as merely ‘wacky’. SFA: Silly Futile
Anarchists? Perhaps they’d have more respect were they called
something more ambiguous like U2 or Blur or Marillion. A serious
reputation can’t be associated with the name 'Super Furry Animals',
and I’m not sure about their hero worship of an international
drug smuggler. But along with said Howard Marks and a handful of small
support bands, the band have managed to fill the prestigious Royal Festival
Hall. And what a treat it is!
After an acoustic ‘Fire in
My Heart’ in the RFH ballroom/bar area, the proper set is split
in two, one slow and one full-on. So with the fitting introduction “clarity
just confuses me,” the first set goes from ‘Demons’
through the likes of ‘Bleed Forever’ and ‘Down a Different
River’, a fine selection from Welsh-language album ‘Mwng’,
and up to ‘If You Don’t Want Me to Destroy You’. Gruff’s
deep croon is gently backed by assorted string and brass sections, dressed
as monks. “Gravity! You just hold me down so quietly!”
After the first part, we ask “how nice was that?”
By the end of the night, we’re speechless. Although the last two
or three albums have been a bit too full of stoned epics, and might
wear thin were they always so slow, a full career assessment proves
what a stunning group this still is; the performance strides viciously
through all genres. ‘Golden Retriever’ puts progressive
blues style to a great glam-rock stomp, and isn’t it natural that,
were you to meet a devil today (or his dog), he’d be at a roundabout
and not a crossroads? Robert Johnson copyists take note. SFA might also
keep such close watch on the multi-symphonic genius of Brian Wilson,
which extends to crunching food for sonic effect. But while Gruff respectfully
wanders the stage stuffing a packet of crisps into his mouth, ‘Receptacle
for the Respectable’ also includes moments of pure metal. ‘Out
of Control’ is just as tough with punk grit. Meanwhile that sentimental,
Flaming Lips-style hit ‘Juxtaposed with U’ has him stroll
about shaking hands with the crowd. An anti-establishment pacifist creed:"you've
got to tolerate some of those people that you hate". Here are
songs that seem to mean something, lots of stompy music with added squelchy
noises, but it’s more than that. ‘The Man Don’t Give
A Fuck’ shows a different side to their “us-against-them”
attitude, full of hate as George Bush's massive and empty head is projected
behind the band. The song ends in a gloriously long techno segment as
electro-wizard Cian is left alone on stage. The rest of the group return
in silver shellsuits to a crowd largely diving around at the front of
this sit-down theatre. Gruff had stated their wish to rename the place
“the People’s Festival Hall” and it’s
almost happened. SFA have managed to make raving political, turning
fun into a practical art statement, preaching nonsense and common sense
in equal measure and somehow it all seems right. And there were
kids in yeti costumes. What a brillant ending to a memorable time.
So why might anyone want SFA to be anybody else? SFA: Seriously Funny Artists? Yes, they are Super Furry Animals. Who's bothered if the Man don't care, because in the Festival Hall, the People know the Songbook. Or, to put things another way (and clarify without confusing): "these guys just have so many great tracks!"
