Tags

, , , , , ,

 

It feels like a criminal oversight to focus on just one song from one of the most inventive and awesome rock/pop combos of the past two decades but where does one draw the line. SFA are rock iconoclasts who exist in their own mini pop universe that seems inclusive and hermetic somehow.They have gone their own way with little compromise, always on the fringes of

the mainstream, occasional infiltrators even yet walking a fine line, flipping on a dime – often within a verse or chorus – between deliberate indulgence, whimsy,frippery, experimentation and the solid gold shiny, hook laden songcraft goods.

Are they: scruffed up stoner enigmas, back of the classroom art pranksters, proud Dragons, Paul McCartney collaborators, psychedelic troubadours, electro anarchists, part-time punk intellectuals, MOR dabblers, hip-hop fiddlers, blissed out cosmic wanderers? All of these, perhaps more….A tight knit, unassuming band of Welsh misfits brought up in the Valleys on a diet of ELO, Iggy, Steely Dan, Rave, Hip-Hop, Marxism, Marijuana, Cawl & Cultural pride on a quest for new sounds, eager to please themselves and their cosmic muse.

Emerging into an Oasis universe in 1996/97, I was behind the curve on these lads, my younger 12 year old sis having a copy of their second album Radiator lying around the family homestead. As I was often resistant (still am, he declares pompously) to ANY media annointment of the Great New Bands, it took me a while to warm to their wonky Welsh charms and then after buying their standalone post-Radiator 1998 single on the compact disc I was converted;  this slightly doleful, quasi glam Beach Boys -esque mid tempo tune still commands my attention, I just have to stop everything and immerse my selves in it so I do. But that’s the Furry’s magic I guess; they seemingly don’t give a fuck and yet they still give a fuck enough to make wonderful, endorphin generating music.

 

 

Advertisements