Gruff Rhys performing at Leeds Church, November 2018 (Scott Smith / Live4ever)
If Gruff Rhys isn’t careful, he’ll soon be a national treasure.
The very notion would probably repel the Super Furry Animals frontman. Both his band and the man himself have always been more comfortable operating on the outskirts; when they tasted a bit of mainstream success back in the 90s, rather than smarten up their appearance by wearing more expensive clothes or playing the media game, our heroes as usual subverted expectations by dressing up as Yetis.
And so the subversion continues into Rhys’ solo career. Entering the stage to a knowingly butchered version of the 2001: A Space Odyssey theme, we are all cordially invited to visit Babelsberg. With six albums under his belt, his own catalogue is nearly as extensive as his group’s, but the focus for tonight’s (November 12th) first half is his latest effort.
Usually an album is played in full for a celebration (and accompanying reissue) but, contradictory as ever, Rhys plays the album in full, the wistful feel of the record perfectly soundtracking the melancholy of a Monday night. It translates well to the live arena too; Oh Dear! races along, The Club’s melodrama is given more time to breath and the flute section of Drones In The City echoes around SWX. Testament to the musicianship, it’s a faithful rendition of the album.
His whole demeanour and canon up to this point can put him alongside Billy Bragg as one of the UK’s greatest living troubadours, but with his onstage patter he’s more of a wry comedian, using dour Welsh wit to gently rib the host city (‘we recorded in Bristol a couple of years ago, it was miserable’) or asserting his presence as the reason we’re out (‘this is called Take That Call, please don’t.’). He has the crowd’s attention for the whole show, continuing his old trick of utilising placards encouraging ‘a ripple of mild applause’ or similar. Rhys makes the gig feel intimate despite the hundreds in attendance. Best of all is when he stops Negative Vibes then encourages the crowd to count in a perfect restart; old performance tricks with a twist, as ever.
There are few concessions to his parent band, with only b-side Colonise The Moon given an airing. The performance of the song is set against a backdrop stating ‘Brexit Is A Bad Sax Solo’ – of course, an initially bad sax solo is dutifully provided, before morphing into a more mournful sojourn. The rest of the set spans all his albums and serves as a reminder of the raw talent at work. As per usual, there are ventures into his native tongue but for those of us who don’t speak Welsh it matters not, as Gwn Mi Wn and Gyrru Gyrru Gyrru are little more than steady driving chants.
With no semblance of ego, Rhys gives his band free rein and it’s a collaborative outfit. One suspects that Rhys would be happy to fade into the shadows and let the band take over were it not for having to supply the vocals which are, as ever, soothing and heart felt.
A perfect way to ease into the week.