The Cavan teenagers attack album two with abandon, largely at the expense of quality
London King's Cross Scala
...the universe is still constantly vibrating to their tune...
SFA don't so much come onstage as teleport in. Molecules rearranged, they proceed to unravel ours with 'Nightvision' and 'Drygioni'. Tonight, they're a band walking with legends. At the end of 'Do Or Die', when someone throws a Brian Jones T-shirt onto the stage, Gruff holds it up and claims they're going to conjure up the ghost of the drowned Rolling Stone. But elsewhere, in the tracks from their new Welsh-language album 'Mwng', you can hear the spirits of Arthur Lee, The Beach Boys and even, er, ELO wandering on and off.
The bleeping telecommunication psychedelia of 'Guerrilla' has been left far behind. SFA's new songs are the sound of cold, clear water and impossibly green grass. You might not understand the words, but it's all in the beautiful international language of dreaming. So the gently playful 'Ymaelodi A'r Ymylon' - featuring a harmonium - proves that still waters can run deceptively deep; it's apparently about old Welsh legends of demons in music. The happily woozy 'Ysbeidiau Heulog' is pure sci-fi Roxy Music and 'Nythod Cacwn' renders nature to a new amplified degree of colour and contrast, whilst 'Gwreiddiau Dwfn''s jazz jam replaces 'The Man Don't Give A Fuck' as a vertigo-inducing finale.
To label the Super Furries parochial would be to miss the point: it's a love thing for them. Love of music, but also a love of mischief. They remain maverick pranksters in hi-tech fibre cagoules, sometimes on the cusp of falling apart or finally being sucked into the black hole they've been dancing around all night. Despite their occasional efforts to the contrary, the universe is still constantly vibrating to their tune.
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