Cardiff Calling -

Super Furry Animals are something of a Pandora's box of a band. To the casual observer they are purveyors of tuneful but unremarkable indie; to the initiated, a buzzing hive of ideas barely constrained by the term 'rock band', awash with techno squelches, postmodern playfullness, exotic lyrical subject matter (from Einstein's rapping skills to Che Guevara's asthma, and that's just in one song - 'Herman loves Pauline', an ode to Einstein's parents love that 'gave birth to a little German') and a tank converted to play nosebleed-inducing techno. So, which band do we get tonight?

Gruff Rhys exudes wry, understated charm (a welcome relief after watching the second singer from the Automatic's Freddie Mercury-on-speed prolonged tantrum on stage beforehand): after a tongue in cheek session of Quo-like back-to-back duel guitar rocking he deadpans 'that was a very emotional moment for us as a band; here's another emotional moment'.

It is this tendency for playful rocking that the Super Furries indulge most tonight. 'Rings Around the World' gets a joyful reception from the booze-addled crowd - welcoming the chance to strut and shout along to a tuneful, unadorned classic. As much as this would seem the apotheosis of the populist SFA, it should be remembered that this is a song about the invisible rings of telecommunication radiowaves that now surround the planet, and, as unaffected as it seems, is delivered with a fair dose of knowing irony. So, hardly the Fratellis.

Their more free-wheeling, experimental side is drawn out in the epic 'Receptacle for the Respectable':  a several movement, psychedelic pop-rock epic, complete with a nod to Paul McCartney's salad-chewing percussion on the Beach Boys' 'Vegetables' as Rhys drolly munched through a pack of crisps into the mic.

'Juxtaposed with u', with it's playfully affected R & Bisms, provides the second biggest singalong of the set. The bridge's instruction to 'tolerate, all the people that you hate' was particularly pertinent surrounded by fighting, sunburnt kids and  their tattoo-faced, drunken parents. As the chorus swelled to it's giddy climax, the crowd were united, and social barriers broken down. Social barriers that should perhaps be re-erected as they serve to prevent my wallet being stolen.

There was a niggling suspicion that the Super Furry Animals were not quite pulling out all the stops tonight.  From a band previously known to supplement their festival appearances with inflatable incarnations of good and evil represented by forty-foot bears, the fact that Rhys occasionally sang from inside a bright red Power Rangers helmet - novel by most bands standards - was one of few notably unusual moments. However, the strength of SFA's back catalogue - tonight the crowd cheered and bellowed to a euphoric rendition of 'God! Show me magic', and a thoroughly rocked-up 'Northern Lites', amongst other peaks from their twelve year career - means that such gimmicks are welcome, but not necessary. Perhaps Rhys will lend the helmet to the singer from Snow Patrol, or someone else who needs it more. 

So, the duality remains: those convinced of the unremarkable but tuneful nature of the Super Furry Animals would have little tonight to change their mind, and the converted had plenty of glimpses of the multi-headed experimental pop-beast to maintain their enthusiasm. But, as they piled into standard set-closer and multi-purpose anti-establishment anthem 'The Man Don't Give a Fuck' all were united in the understanding that the Super Furry Animals can be a great party band. With a glut of classic songs to their name, in a festival environment all other questions are academic.

words by Robin Wilkinson photography by Jay

to see more of Jay's photos from the gig click here

and to see photos from the gig by Gareth Davies click here