Super Furry Animals
It seems unthinkable in 2005, but by the time Pink Floyd released Dark Side Of The Moon, the disc that made them international superstars and rock legends, the band had eight albums to their credit and a career that had already spanned nine years. Although theirs is a singular tale, in the late ’60s and early ’70s, the feasibility of career longevity in rock (and the public’s patience for a band to find themselves) was far more plausible. As a means of measurement, contrast The Floyd’s development with the lifespan of modern rock icons such as The Smiths or the Pixies, who, in the ’80s and ’90s, each mustered five records of original material over careers that spanned the same number of years, and the rate of development versus staying power is marked.
Enter the Super Furry Animals, who in 2005 celebrate their 10th anniversary with Love Kraft. Like Pink Floyd before them, the Super Furry Animals have flown below the radar for years while garnering greater critical acclaim with each successive disc. In this age of instant gratification and shortened attention spans, however, the Super Furry Animals aren’t likely to reach the same level of fame as Mr. Waters and company. Be that as it may, just as The Floyd had 30 years earlier, the Furrys are making the most elaborate and thematically intricate albums of the decade.
“I don’t know how many people listen to albums from start to finish in the era of the iPod,” confesses songwriter, singer, and drummer Dafydd Ieuan (Daf for short), “but we still like to make albums that are cohesive. A lot of thought is given to the running order; I think we care more about that than anything.”
Perhaps the idea of a fully realized album is a relic of the past reserved for those who romantically recall sitting in a dimmed bedroom listening to Dark Side Of The Moon on headphones, but that’s precisely the course the Super Furry Animals have chosen. Though at home in the U.K. they flirted with Top-40 hits for the better part of the late 1990s, 2001’s Rings Around The World signaled their full creative prowess was beginning to flower. Rings was followed in 2003 by Phantom Power, which was, though languid in tone, the Furry’s most cinematic and beautiful disc to date. Perhaps as a sign of cultural attention deficit disorder, the mellow nature of the disc (and a few pointed lyrics expressing dismay at the then newly launched war in Iraq) prompted many to misconstrue it as a reflection of a band mired in cynicism and melancholy.
“I don’t think we’re cynical at all,” Daf explains. “Just because some of our songs point out that there are shit things happening around the world doesn’t mean that everything is doom and gloom. We’re all optimists; Gruff [Rhys, main singer and lyricist] is the most optimistic person I’ve ever met. Sometimes you just have to get things out of your system or you’ll go mad. It’s like that Mamas And Papas song ‘Glad To Be Unhappy.’ It’s a beautiful, happy melody with these sad lyrics. I don’t know if it is human nature to hide, but I think people don’t always like to show melancholy in the obvious way. Plus it is just easier to make yourself feel better if you give really down lyrics a happy melody; it’s like patching up cracks.”
Such misunderstandings may be alleviated by Love Kraft, however, as more than any other Super Furry Animals record, Love Kraft wallows in warm melodies that stretch out like breathtaking vistas. From the lazy, humid groove of “Ohio Heat” to the string-sweetened hyper boogie of “Lazer Beam,” the rollicking road journey “Back On A Roll,” and the bewitching beauty of the three-part suite “Cloudberries,” Love Kraft reflects all of the Furrys’ playful qualities without sacrificing any of their substance. It’s a monster that deserves the kind of praise reserved for such modern classics as The Soft Bulletin, Definitely Maybe, and OK Computer. Except maybe it’s better than all of those.
“It’s like a Holy Grail quest to find the Furry’s sound,” Daf observes when trying to get a grip on the ever-evolving musical palette that has led to Love Kraft. “We’re constantly working towards the Furry sound, but we’re not quite sure what it is. The important thing to us is not to repeat ourselves, and every time we do an album we always think we can do better. It’s been very organic, though; we’ve never set out to make an album that was the opposite of the last.”
Getting a grip on the band’s sound hasn’t been their only challenge, however. The group’s combination of irreverence, self-awareness, loyalty to their native Wales, a sardonic sense of humor, and that silly name have, in the U.K. at least, often lent to the portrayal of the Super Furry Animals as offbeat, quirky caricatures. Indeed, how hard is it to conceive of a Saturday morning cartoon called “The Super Furry Animals” wherein a bunch of wacky musicians named Daf, Gruff, Cian, Guto, and Bunf (they’re Welsh, remember) travel around in an old military tank equipped with huge inflatable bears (both hallmarks of their early U.K. tours), singing sunny pop songs called “Gypsy Space Muffin” (a b-side from Rings Around The World), while wearing Yeti costumes (as they did on the Phantom Power tour)? One wonders if the creators of “SpongeBob SquarePants” were contemplating such a feat when they chose the Phantom Power track “Hello Sunshine” for the closing credits of their top-rated children’s show.
“Bloody hell!” Daf exclaims at this revelation. “I didn’t know that, and my son’s dead into ‘SpongeBob.'” But before you get the idea the Furries might find their audience through alternative mediums, Daf puts paid to the notion. “We just turned down a million pounds [nearly $2 million] from Coca-Cola to use that song in an advert. We’re a rock ‘n’ roll band, not fucking jingle writers. Once you’ve done that, you have no right to comment on anything,” he says, assuring the band’s credibility. Then he pauses and adds, “Having said that, it was really fucking tempting. A million quid: I could have paid off me house!”
Rational concerns such as house payments seem out of place for a band who pen tracks such as the aforementioned “Lazer Beam,” however. One of Love Kraft‘s stand-out moments, “Lazer Beam” explores the possibility of aliens visiting Earth and shooting the human race with a blaster that vaporizes all of the hatred, cruelty, and fear that clouds our judgment.
“The beauty of writing songs is that you can create anything you want; there are absolutely no rules,” Daf elaborates. “Even though it is highly unlikely that an alien spaceship would come down and zap everybody on Earth with a laser beam that stops all the evil in the world, we’re living in quite crazy times, so it’s a much needed song about optimism and expectation.” Stopping to consider what he’s just said, Daf adds, “A laser beam that fills everybody with love: That sounds very fucking hippy, doesn’t it?!”
Which brings us back to that Pink Floyd comparison. Pink Floyd were products of Flower Power and were not beyond looking into the abyss of the human condition. Again, the similarity to the Super Furry Animals’ penchant for juxtaposing life’s uglier side with an unwavering belief in the power of love is striking. We’ve simply got to ask . . .
“You’d be amazed at how many people make that comparison,” Daf admits. “It’s interesting, because none of us are big Pink Floyd fans. I quite like bits of their music, but then some of it is fucking awful. I’ve got a few of their albums, but I don’t think they’d be in our top 50 band influences. Gruff doesn’t even own a Floyd album.”
So much for wanky rock critic theories, then. But Daf is heartened by the observation that it took Pink Floyd nine albums to find mass appeal and that, perhaps, Love Kraft could be their Dark Side Of The Moon. “I like your optimism!” he says with a deep laugh. “You always live in hope. I have to say, though, we earn a living, we have a nice tour bus now, and I live in a house, so there are degrees of success. It’s not something we dwell on; we just sort of carry on . . . maybe foolishly!” Cynical? Not these Animals.
— Jay Hedblade
