A comment from George about how amazing that super-long live version of “The Man Don’t Give a Fuck” I snuck into this week’s Chain (“I need to say that that the Super Furry Animals epic is bloody brilliant; as I type the walls of the music room are shaking to it) has prompted me to write this. But first, props to Rigid Digit for suggesting the original version which gave me the opportunity to post the version that has rocked chez George (and I hope many more of you too) this morning. If you haven’t listened to it, do yourself a favour, and go do so.
I’ve been lucky enough to be part of a crowd hearing that live version more than once. The first time was when I went to see them play at what was supposed to be a pre-cursor to the Brecon Jazz Festival. The gig was scheduled to be in a marquee, I think, but the town mayor had got the jitters about it, and had forbidden them to play, stating that he didn’t think the Festival should be linked to bands who actively promoted drug-taking (which they don’t, they just don’t deny that they have indulged at some point, as part of the creative process….)
As Bill Hicks once said:
We all found this hilarious, of course – like Jazz music has no connections with drugs! Shit, the greatest jazz musicians were renowned for it!! – but the gig was duly moved into some kind of indoor market square instead.
The techno bleep bit of “The Man…” kicked in, and I phoned my mate Dum Dum (actual name withheld for legal reasons); Dum Dum was one of my clubbing mates, also a Super Furries fan, and I knew he’d be pissed to have missed this. I held the phone aloft for a few moments, until he would have got the full blast of how delicious the moment was. Minutes later, a text: “Where are u???”. In Brecon, mate. Having it large. On a Thursday.
A whole big gang of my friends and I went to see the Super Furries play in Brixton last year; it was the day after the General Election and pre-gig pub talk was all about how much we needed this gig to raise spirits. What we got, thankfully, was a Greatest Hits set, culminating in the uber-length “The Man…”, during which one of my buddies – I know you’re reading this, hello – grabbed me and shouted (in my face, about six times until I’d got the message over the bleeps, sweat and cheering) “I wish we had some pills for this!”.
Anyway, as I mentioned in The Chain, we’re all hooking up again on Friday to see them play their first two albums, and I cannot wait. It’s the start of an epic weekend for me, but more importantly, I’ll get to hear them play this absolute belter, during which I fully anticipate we will, in the words of The Peth, go fucking mental: