Super Furry Animals, Glasgow review: 'roaring back to life'
The beloved Cardiff outfit made a joyous return with an all-killer-no-filler set, writes Fiona Shepherd
Super Furry Animals, Barrowland, Glasgow ★★★★★
One of the most beloved and inventive bands of their generation made their joyous return at a venue which has welcomed so many Super Furry extravaganzas over the years that induction into the Barrowland Hall of Fame was a no-brainer. Barring a reunion in 2015, Super Furry Animals have been dormant since 2010 but came roaring back to life on the opening night of their UK tour.
On this occasion, there were no glow-in-the-dark golf buggies or bulbous alien costumes, just some murky shadowplay and monochrome CGI to kick off the all-killer-no-filler proceedings. This Cardiff outfit sustained a blistering run of indie hits in their first flush, more than enough to finesse an oddball greatest hits set, from the power pop rush of (Drawing) Rings Around the World via the space punk of Do Or Die and glam glory of Golden Retriever to the breathless minimalism and Beatley chorus of Something 4 the Weekend and the urgent garage scree of the super tight Focus Pocus/Debiel.
They came up for air with the soulful appeal of If You Don't Want Me To Destroy You and acid funk of Ice Hockey Hair. Hello Sunshine provided their Wizard of Oz moment when the backdrop turned technicolour, all the better to accompany the boss bossa nova of Northern Lites and the cosmic country of Run! Christian, Run!
The music was no less colourful. Juxtaposed With U was a symphony of pitchshifted vocals and bowel-quaking bass, Mountain People transitioned effortlessly from alt.country to acid house while the celebratory pop muzak track Play It Cool showcased frontman Gruff Rhys’s ridiculous falsetto chops. Later he manifested as a diffident Evel Knievel figure and finally the whole band succumbed to their customary eccentric cosplay, returning to the stage in their time-honoured yeti outfits to complete Steely Dan-sampling opus The Man Don’t Give A Fuck, a message of grim reality delivered as a cathartic party.
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