jjon
Joined: 07 Jun 2005 Posts: 44
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Posted: Wed Mar 19, 2008 06:44 Post subject: |
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Well, if you insist, I can (and will) reproduce an article I wrote about Guerrilla a few years ago:
In 1996, Wales’ Super Furry Animals crashed the fag-end of the Britpop party
with their debut long-player, Fuzzy Logic. However, quite apart from pinning its
colours to the mast of a particular movement or genre, the album’s blend of surf-
punk hooks, pastoral folk and playfully abstract lyrics flew the flag for music as
an expression of self; a sonic display of what was bubbling inside of the band, as
opposed to a studied imitation of past luminaries such as The Beatles and The
Kinks. Given the prevailing triumphant mood of Fuzzy Logic, few were prepared
for the follow-up single ‘The Man Don’t Give a F***’, which opened with softly-
uttered political musings before looping the titular refrain (a sample from Steely
Dan’s ‘Showbiz Kids’) over a 5-minute techno stomp. This ensured the band an
induction into the Guinness Book of Records for the use of the most ‘F words’ in
a single (52 times); even more notable given that the track was released over
Christmas! Their sophomore effort, 1997’s Radiator, retained the pop hooks of its
predecessor but cast them in a soberer, more paranoid setting, with lyrics such as
“apathy only ruined me/hanging around waiting for calamity” suggesting that all
was in fact not well in the world of Super Furry Animals. At this time, the post
Britpop climate was resembling more of a wasteland, with Radiohead-esque
proclamations of doom dominating the alternative scene as the millennium
loomed ever closer, and it may have appeared that Super Furry Animals would
continue their descent into earnestness. However, with hindsight, Radiator’s ‘The
International Language of Screaming’ contained a rather pointed couplet: “every
time I look around me, everything seems so stationary/it just sends me the impulse
to become reactionary”. Entirely in line with this statement of intent, 1999’s
Guerrilla was conceived as a full-on ‘pop’ album, an assault on the charts as its
military title implies. Adopting a rule of only recording for the album whilst the
sun was shining, Guerrilla took the bouncy immediacy of Fuzzy Logic to the nth
degree, receiving widespread critical acclaim; although Super Furry Animals’
natural inclinations to experiment prevented it from achieving the commercial
success that it deserved.
Opener ‘Check It Out’ serves as more of a prelude than a stand-alone track, with
the whispered vocal repeating the title over a jaunty electronic rhythm section.
However, the beat soon begins to stutter, the vocals swirl, and the whole thing
speeds up rapidly before crashing straight into the album’s first ‘pop’ turn, ‘Do Or
Die’. The song is under two minutes long and is extremely radio friendly, with
angular pop-rock riffs and nonsensical lyrics about riding tornadoes and eating
tomatoes, but the subtleties of its texture render it even more impressive heard
through headphones than on a car stereo. The Pixies-esque power chords of the
verse quickly give way to an altogether more crunching guitar sound backed by
layers of electronic noises courtesy of the band’s techno wizard/keyboardist Cian
Ciaran (the band started off as a techno outfit before experimenting with the rock
format, and the two styles are uniquely intertwined for much of the album). The
band’s method of manipulating melody by layering sound upon sound over it,
aligned with the increasing energy levels they exert on their respective
instruments as the song reaches its climax, creates an exhilarating effect for the
listener. This ‘swamping of noise’ was key to the ‘shoe-gazing’ scene of late
1980s/early 1990s British bands such as Ride and The Jesus and Mary Chain, but
Super Furry Animals’ managing to condense the energy into 3-and-a-half minute
pop songs lends the tactic a direction which is as much joyous as it is raucous. In
short, their use of crescendo is implicit of a remarkable sonic ingenuity.
As soon as ‘Do Or Die’ reaches a shuddering halt, the sound of softly chiming
bells ushers in the album’s first ballad. ‘The Turning Tide’ begins with gently
finger-picked acoustic guitar, Ciaran’s melotron arpeggios and singer/songwriter
Gruff Rhys’ suddenly contemplative lyrics (“it just occurred to me/that things
aren’t as they seem/it’s conspiracy”). A shimmering string section then enters the
fray, almost seeming to sigh with weariness, before the anthemic chorus lets the
sunlight in, creating a ‘blissed-out’ feel-good atmosphere. Rhys gives no
indication that more elegiac lines like “my eyes began to grow into telescopes/that
were looking at a world of quicksand” (‘The Turning Tide’) are any more
carefully considered than seemingly throwaway nonsense like “let’s ride the
camel/one hump or two?” (‘Do Or Die’), and it is thus that Super Furry Animals
are able to guide the listener from one emotional extreme to the other without
appearing trite. The lyrics may not be as instinctive as those of a standard chart-
pop single, but the myriad images they convey, not to mention the dressed-up
subliminal messages they contain, cannot help but intertwine seamlessly with the
music. Not only do they imply deep thought and a creative mind, but they seem to
boldly pronounce that there is a time for fun, and a time for contemplation. The
following track, ‘Northern Lites’, is musical confirmation in itself that joy is as
equally valid an emotion as despair, and to witness the sea of grins that its opening
burst of mariachi horns elicits is to realise that ‘emotion’ in music need not be
inextricably linked with the likes of Radiohead. ‘Northern Lites’ continues in a
distinctly exotic vain, combining rhythmic strumming with trumpets and steel
drums, while the lyrical content reverts to gleeful nonsense. It can mean as much
or as little as you like but, either way, the music does the talking. In fact, without
consulting a lyric sheet, Rhys’ thick Welsh drawl is largely unintelligible much of
the time, so much so that he has been subtitled on television even when speaking
in English. I recall the Singles Reviews section of Melody Maker around the time
of its release, when they used to invite well-known rock personalities to listen to
and discuss the week’s most prominent releases. Unfortunately, I cannot
remember the identity of said star, but I do remember him saying of ‘Northern
Lites’ that he could not understand the lyrics of the song’s final section, but that
he hoped it was “marry me, so marry me”. In fact, Rhys was actually singing
“don’t worry me/or hurry me”, but it perfectly exemplifies how the band’s use of
melody is capable of stirring strong sentimental imagery, in this case bittersweet
romanticism.
Guerrilla continues apace with the extraordinary ‘Nightvision’, which extends
the band’s musical and lyrical palettes even further. “With pine kernel teeth, we
can chew on bone/so count your country overthrown” chants Rhys over a
pounding rhythm section, before a wall of brass, electronica and blaring guitar
collide for the Batman theme-aping chorus. The layering of disparate sounds is
constant throughout the album, and lends it a unique spectrum of colour which is
totally in keeping with the bizarre cover art, which depicts a one-eyed
octopus/mobile phone hybrid with a pipe in its mouth, sitting on the panel of some
kind of control station. It is a highly unlikely, yet beautifully fitting, illustration of
an album that flawlessly melds man and machine. Where so many alternative
rock bands belatedly embrace technology to create soundscapes of futuristic
desolation, Super Furry Animals appear to have unintentionally assimilated it into
their sound as if by a snowballing effect; they will absorb any sound that comes
their way, but it never detracts from the whole. For the telephone and the octopus,
read the blending of electronic sounds with traditional instruments that achieves a
human, and not robotic, effect. Although it appears unintentional, it is a beautiful
unifying concept and, especially given the timing of its release, should have been
hailed as a signpost to the next millennium of popular music. The album’s natural
eclecticism bears more resemblance to Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
than to any of the more self-consciously ‘wacky’ bands who sprang up during the
1990s. Ironically for a group who seek to innovate rather than imitate, the spirit
of Super Furry Animals is far more in keeping with The Beatles’ constantly
shifting sound than, for example, oft-accused Beatles sound-a-likes Oasis.
‘Nightvision’ retreats into a bass-heavy electronic wilderness, signalling the
arrival of the album’s more nocturnal mid-section, but not before its chorus
abruptly explodes back into life with extra backing vocals aiding the climactic
effect this time. The following track ‘Wherever I Lay My Phone (That’s My
Home)’ continues the sonic assault suggested by the album’s title; as well as the
“non-violent, direct action” slogan on the cover art; without losing its element of
fun for even a second. It is a raucous, pulsating track, replete with electronic
squelches and nonsensical lyrics such as “she’s got City, I’ve got Guilds/in
desktop publishing” that remind the listener to actually ‘get up and dance’, as
opposed to merely sitting there going deaf, such was the apparent motif of other
‘abrasive’ music around at the time. Rhys alternates lines such as “status symbol
disease says/I’ve got a mobile phone” with chanting the song’s title and even the
name of the band, accentuating his unique perspective on both the material and the
absurd. As much as the music would succeed with a lesser wordsmith at the helm,
Rhys’ self-professed “kitchen sink psychedelia” is both refreshing and utterly
compelling. It is also especially notable given that Welsh is his first language.
Subsequently we find the album’s centre-piece, a mellow and surprisingly moving
electronic number entitled ‘Some Things Come From Nothing’. Ciaran’s
beautifully atmospheric backing track is perfectly complimented by Rhys’
resigned, semi-whispered vocal turn and, despite the presence of multiple loops
and samples, there is as much of an intensely human feel as on anywhere else on
the album. Following on from a track that seems to centre, somewhat mockingly,
on the explosion of household technology during the previous decade (the
intermittent ‘A Specific Ocean’ even features the ominous sound of mobile phone
interference), it is another reminder that, at least in the world of Super Furry
Animals, man and machine can co-exist in perfect harmony. The mid-section’s
strange twilight feel is rounded off with ‘The Door To This House Remains
Open’, which combines Hawaiian guitar-mimicking electronic noises with a
thudding drum and bass rhythm. Yet again, the introduction of high-pitched
backing vocals bring the song thundering along towards its climax, as many of the
track’s key hooks re-emerge and unite to form another exhilarating denouement.
The tempo does not let up with ‘The Teacher’, a track which not only sees the
band revert to a traditional rock and roll format of two guitars, drums, keyboard
and bass, but also heralds the ending of the album’s mid-section. Just as small
strokes of different colours may serve to emphasise the prevailing colour in a
painting, this mid-section serves to emphasise the overwhelming brightness of
Guerrilla, and ‘The Teacher’ certainly brings it kicking and screaming back into
the sunshine. The track begins with the band clapping along to a bouncy
drumbeat, over which Rhys appears to be screaming “goal!” over and over, before
a delirious guitar riff precipitates each instrument literally tumbling in together
and straight into the action. Screeching backing vocals, ‘bratty’ guitar reminiscent
of the theme from Rhoobarb and Custard and lyrics about wanting to come home
from school and start a band build steadily towards the album’s dizzying high
point, as the band foist childlike ‘la la la’s and piercing shrieks upon the
increasingly energetic instrumentation before, just two-and-a-half minutes in, the
whole piece is brought to a shuddering halt, with only Rhys’ fading cries of
“help!” as a brief coda. It is the sound The Monkees would have made if they
were amplified tenfold and jamming with the local asylum, and no other song has
so perfectly recreated that ‘end of school, start of the summer holidays’ feel,
which is no mean feat for a band who by then were mostly into their thirties. It is
worth mentioning the contribution of Daffyd Ieuan, whose quiet/loud drumming
dynamic and range of fills play a major part in helping the band’s sound to take
off with such impressive momentum.
Next up is ‘Fire In My Heart’, a pared down acoustic number which is as close
as the album comes to a straight-ahead love song. The effect of hearing Rhys
crooning lines such as “I ask is it sad/that I’m driving myself mad/as this fire in
my heart turns blue” when just before he had been defiantly wailing “when I get
home from school I’m gonna burn my books/and when I get home from school
I’m gonna write some hooks” (‘The Teacher’) is heartbreaking in its contrast, but
yet again the song builds gradually to a euphoric finale. Starting off with just
Rhys and his delicately-plucked acoustic guitar, Ciaran illuminates the second
verse with shimmering electronic sounds which conjure up images of the sun
rising first thing in the morning, before the third verse sees the whole band joining
in. There is a brief bridge, before the time-honoured key change chimes in with
vocal harmonies augmenting the effect. These vocal harmonies were to become
more of a prominent feature in later Super Furry Animals work, so much so that
they have developed a transcendental sound reminiscent of prime Beach Boys,
and their forthcoming album is said to feature lead vocal contributions from all
bar one of the band’s members. ‘Fire In My Heart’ is a beautifully measured
piece in its gradual layering on of instruments and, although the backing vocals on
Guerrilla were not quite as polished as they are now, they were an integral part of
the album’s climactic dynamic.
Final track ‘Keep The Cosmic Trigger Happy’ concludes matters on an
especially upbeat note, with its falsetto chorus demonstrating the impressive vocal
range that makes Rhys’ voice so versatile, suited to all of Guerrilla’s myriad
styles. Its bouncy melody is almost Abba-like in its sophistication, in stark
contrast to the moody ‘epics’ that most bands like to end albums with, but its
reflective buoyancy make it just as poignant; the moment it’s all brought to a
close, you are left grinning from ear to ear, knowing that it’s been a fun journey.
However, after a while, you will discover that rewinding the CD at the start of the
first track leads you to hidden song ‘The Citizen’s Band’, much like belatedly
stumbling upon the secret level on a computer game. With its mix of bizarre
truckers’ vernacular (“smokeys say I’m a lonely cartel”), themes of technology
(“me and you/so many ways to communicate”) and a multiple-layered sound, it
ties the whole album together perfectly and renews its vigour at a time when you
already may have listened to it five or six times.
It was often said of seminal acts that sold little, such as Pixies and The Velvet
Underground, that everyone who did hear them went on to form a band and
although major mainstream success currently eludes Super Furry Animals, they
look destined to one day enjoy this kind of status. Guerrilla was a bolt from the
blue in the context of both the prevalent ‘indie’ music of the time and the album’s
more sombre predecessor Radiator, but it came around at a time when it was
badly needed. It embraced the forthcoming millennium with an overwhelming
positivity and unparalleled creative streak, serving as a reminder that music does
not have to leave you feeling depressed in order to qualify as emotionally valid.
Its constant genre-hopping recreated the spirit of Sgt Pepper/Magical Mystery
Tour-era Beatles, and imbued the record with more colour and verve than perhaps
any other record that decade; or since, for that matter. Techno/rock hybrids are
not usually known for such qualities and usually err on the side of avant garde, but
Guerrilla makes everything seem possible; it uses technology instinctively, as just
another instrument, in a way that other bands had seemingly not even considered,
and helps create something so absolutely ‘pop’ that it appears the band succeeded
in their quest. Their emerging influence on the current scene will hopefully
cement the classic status that Guerrilla richly deserves. _________________ myspace.com/jonnyabrams |
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