Part song, part storytelling, Rhys weaves meaning and history into each track: how he came about each record, where he was, what it meant to him.
The first is a release from his first band Ffa Coffi Pawb. It’s also “the first song I wrote with a friend,” he explains, “It’s in Welsh but you might recognise some of the drug references.” Sure enough, the word ‘Valium’ reverberated around us, followed by an unassumingly comedic ‘Yum Yum Yum Yum’.
Gruff Rhys is set up as if in his own private little studio on stage. He has his guitars, a broken metronome (“a very special guest”, Rhys announced ) that he has fixed with Blu Tac and a 5p coin – “Do you have Blu Tac in Luxembourg?” – and a keyboard. A little rusty, perhaps even a little nervous to begin with, Rhys took a little while to settle into a roughly 90-minute set.
As he eased into it, so did the crowd, a small yet dedicated fanbase. It felt intimate, yet at the same time as if Rhys was there for himself, in his own musical universe.
“It’s such a novelty playing again”, Rhys admits, and in a quick word after the gig, he emphasises how happy he is to play live. Plans to play in America may or may not come into fruition, and he jumped on this opportunity: “It’s really beautiful to be here,” he says, softly spoken.
For those who were expecting an lively, instrument-heavy affair (especially considering his music, often slightly experimental, slightly psychedelic, slightly more than less), it was perhaps too quiet, too much of a slow, minimalist exploration of music spanning the entirety of the musician’s career. Nevertheless, there was a little bit of everything, even Super Furry Animals’ Juxtapozed With U to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the bands 5th studio album Rings around the World.
Nevertheless, there was the odd descent into musical madness, and a personal favourite was Hiking in Lightning – “based on a true story … unfortunately” Gruff Rhys affirmed – where a combination of looping and self-sampling combines in a hypnotic throb of bass and overlapping vocals.
Cycle of violence (from 2007 album Candylion) followed the same suit, juxtaposed with screams that, although fitting for the subject matter, did prompt a few raised eyebrows.
From a technical point of view, there were a few stutters, which he took in his stride. Personally, I find those glitches makes gigs even more enjoyable, reminders that even virtuosos need a couple of starts to succeed.
This is what live music is about! There were also a few moments where, admittedly, he sang slightly off key. It’s all part of the experience.
There is a quiet comedy about Gruff Rhys, whose demeanour never quite conveys the humour behind his words. He is subtle, which sometimes seems to clash with the extravagance of his music. He is also a poet, as demonstrated with the song If We Were Words (We Would Rhyme). His performance, I believe, is best suited to those very familiar with his work, or else happy to let it all wash over them, soaking up the details.
Is it self-indulgent? Perhaps. Is that a bad thing? Not necessarily.
At the end of the performance, Gruff Rhys took a stance against ‘phony encores’: “I will play these songs and then I’m done” (fair enough). He left us with a final joke: holding up multiple signs with directions for the crowd, calling for us to cheer louder, longer, and more emphatically, as he slowly retreated off the stage. We obeyed.
