On a day when the UK’s hottest temperature on record was achieved multiple times throughout the country – the thermometer eventually reaching its acme with 36.1C recorded in Gosport, Hampshire – one fears the worst upon venturing forth to Canon’s Marsh Amphitheatre for tonight’s instalment of Bristol Sounds. However, the gargantuan Lloyds Banking Group Building provides a natural, crescent-shaped wall of shade, and by the start of Super Furry Animals’ 8.45pm set, it’s a gloriously balmy evening.
An emergent soundscape of electronic squeaks and bleeps builds momentum before the Cardiff five piece – very much intact with a full set of original members – walk on to the stage, all sporting black shirts. It’s a delightfully daft start to proceedings as frontman Gruff Rhys marks opener ‘Wherever I Lay My Phone (That’s My Home)’ by striding around with a giant, Dom Joly-esque inflatable phone. A song dating from 1999 – effectively the dawn of mass phone ownership – the perpetual refrain “I’ve got mobile phone” has evolved ingeniously – whether intended or not – into a ludicrous satire.
The telephonic theme continues with ‘(Drawing) Rings Around The World’, a scuzzy burst of indie rock with a something of a hypnotic 60s Merseybeat chorus, which concludes with dial tones and snippets of phone conversations. ‘Do or Die’ is a sub-two minute salvo, combing Chuck Berry chord stylings, electro sound effects and a crunchy rock chorus. The stomping ‘Golden Retriever’ sounds like it may have been an inspiration for Kasabian’s ‘Shoot The Runner’, it set apart by the howling euphoria of its chorus.
‘Something 4 The Weekend’ – the group’s breakout single at the periphery of Britpop’s zenith in 1996 – is fuelled by staccato, chopping chords before the momentum change of its charmingly breezy chorus. It’s an opportune moment for the diehards at the front – some donning indigo, official merch football jerseys featuring the song’s title – to sway along, arms aloft.
The Furry’s sonic makeup is one that combines 1960s pop influence and 90s flavoured indie rock with an electronic experimentalism; part classic, part futuristic. ‘Ice Hockey Hair’ is adorned by lead guitarist Huw Bunford’s (affectionately known to fans as ‘Bunf’) nicely reverbed noodlings before a lush, harmony-soaked chorus that evokes near-contemporaries Teenage Fanclub. The band’s commercial apex remains ‘Northern Lites’, it teetering on the edge of the top ten in 1999; featuring tropically-tinged percussion and a punchy pre-recorded horn section, it is the band’s intriguingly melodic take on Caribbean calypso.
Later, 2001 favourite ‘Juxtaposed With U’ – somehow managing to be both brilliant and infuriating – is an effective case study in characterising the band’s sound. Beginning with the swirling cinematics of its majestic string samples, the song is partially defaced by Rhy’s android autotune vocals (perhaps even Welsh rock bands were susceptible in the wake of the Cher-induced explosion in the early 2000s), before recovering fully with a soaring chorus melody.
In a sprawling set that ends up on the precipice of two hours, Rhys doesn’t waste too much time with audience interactions. This makes his topical, World Cup referencing comment “We don’t do hydration breaks” all the more amusing. This serves as introduction to ‘Hello Sunshine’, a tune that – considering its sunny melodic bent, the sun-drenched images emanating from the stage’s large screen, and the glorious evening that has emerged within the amphitheatre – is perhaps the night’s defining moment.
Tonight’s set is so lengthy that one is fooled in his perception of where the finish line might be. At one point Rhys threatens a final song with a hefty chuck of tunes still remaining, and the idiot joy of the bouncy ‘Receptacle For The Respectable’ is furnished with such a sizeable coda that one assumes the coming of an encore; Rhys takes his Gibson ES-335 on a rare bout of shredding and, as is a staple of the band’s live shows, band members hold aloft their bass and guitars, the instrucments’ necks crossing like swords.
There is no true encore as it turns out. ‘The Man Don’t Give a Fuck’, starting as something ponderous before building to its fun, defiant mantra of “No, they don’t give a fuck about anybody else” is the evening’s final tune. The fact that its intro features a sample of late comedian Bill Hick’s “All governments are liars and Murderers” routine from 1993’s Rant in E-Minor places us firmly in the 1990s (Radiohead dedicated 1995’s The Bends in his memory and his routines were sampled on Tool’s Ænima in 1996).
Rhys and his bandmates do return to the stage for a quick reprise of ‘The Man Don’t Give a Fuck’, this time wearing their customary yeti suits. It’s brief, of course, considering that a musician dressed as a huge, hairy creature would succumb to somewhat limited longevity in these conditions. Super Furry Animals of 2026 – after a decade’s long hiatus – are a beast reborn.
Scott Hammond
