Far Out Magazine headed to West Yorkshire for a live review of a reinvigorated Super Furry Animals, who (after treating us to their first new music in nearly a decade earlier this year) returned to some golden oldies for this one.
Another milestone for Gruff Rhys and co. in 2016 was the reissue of an extended edition of Fuzzy Logic 20 years after its original release.
With that came a tour placing that record and its follow-up Radiator next to each other on the live stage.
Upon entering the venue the nostalgia trip becomes immediately apparent with a slightly less youthful crowd than previous SFA gigs we’ve made it to. That’s certainly not to suggest the audience are any less energetic, however.
As soon as the band launch in ‘God! Show Me Magic’, they are enamoured, with those down the front bouncing with vigour.
The performance is married with the trademark boiler suits, calling cards and a strobe set-up worthy of rivalling the Chemical Brothers show we were mesmerised by in Blackpool last week.
Unfortunately the sound is a little muffled on the vocal at times, with those packed in to the side of the stage perhaps not getting the best from Rhys’ infamously dry whit in between tracks.
This is all forgotten during undoubtedly the most touching moment of the night, however. With all the high profile deaths over the last year, Howard Marks’ passing is one that may have fallen under the radar for a few. Not tonight, though, as ‘Hangin’ With Howard Marks’ is punctuated by a minute’s applause in the city where he spent his last days – all prompted of course by the ingenious aforementioned calling cards.
Radiator is also proved to have aged just as well as its predecessor, whipping the room into a frenzy during highlights like ‘Play It Cool’ and ‘The International Language of Screaming’.
The regimented set tonight makes us wonder how the band will choose a finale, but as has always been the case since their reformation last year, it could only really end one way. SFA stray from the double-album format and treat us to a typically barnstorming encore in the shape of ‘The Man Don’t Give a Fuck’. Inevitably, this yields all-out euphoria throughout the perfect crescendo.
They even return – complete with golden retriever costumes – for a reprise that we simply never want to end. And to pay them their dues it does seem to last a total of about 20 minutes. True masters of their craft.