Founder rate ends 9th September.

We’re rebuilding theartsdesk to secure the future of real arts journalism. Be part of it by subscribing: if you do it now, the founders’ rate of just £40 yearly is yours FOR LIFE!

SUBSCRIBE NOW 

Album: Gruff Rhys - Sadness Sets Me Free

Dreamy, low key agit prop from the enduringly exploratory Super Furry Animal

share this article

'A weird, inspiring and very lovely record'

Halfway through this album, “They Sold My Home to Build a Skyscraper” unlocks it. On first listen I’d been nodding along with the first few songs, enjoying how they find glimmers of more or less forlorn hope in amongst sadness and middle-aged domestic stress.

I’d been enjoying, too, how the gentle, even kitsch bossa nova and psyche pop lilt of the arrangements makes them into what I like to think of as “soft music for hard times” (in fact an obsession of mine, see my playlist series now over 130 volumes strong). And then came “...Skyscraper” which pulled all of those elements together, condensed them, expressed their themes in some perfect couplets.

“Be a beacon in the gloom / be the mammoth in the room,” the sometime Super Furry Animal croons. And “keep on growing in the dark.” It’s a call to arms. A gentle, whimsical call to arms, couched in subtly psychedelic wordplay and resonances – there’s a lovely little guitar strum halfway through that nods towards “Big Yellow Taxi”, the song’s obvious precursor in subject matter – but a call to arms nonetheless. It encapsulates the running theme of the record: maintaining hope in bleak times – but doing this specifically by maintaining strangeness, providing succour to other oddballs, creating imperfect connections (“maybe bad friends are still friends and better than a memory…”)

It’s not all retreat and regrouping, mind. “Cover Up the Cover Up” takes aim at government, press and monarchy and calls for root and branch renewal in a bit of straight up agit-prop which lyrically would happily fit on a Crass record – although the song itself is a lilting piano ballad. All of it is done with a melancholy joy which is reflected in the groove. The writing and arrangements have endless sophistication; less so the production by veteran Beck/Beastie Boys collaborator Mario Caldato. It’s may well be a deliberate decision to make it feel low-key, to match the subdued nature of the songs – but the thing is, they’re so damn good, they could take a lot more lavishness and sparkle. As it is, though, this is a weird, inspiring and very lovely record.

@joemuggs

Listen to "Bad Friend":

There's a bit of straight up agit-prop which lyrically would happily fit on a Crass record

rating

4

share this article

Help secure the future of arts journalism

In this era of algorithmic recommendation, opaquely sponsored content and AI slop, theartsdesk’s mission to preserve real journalistic and critical values has never been more important.

If you like what you see here, please join us 
in this mission.

Subscribing to the site will help us in our coming 
redesign and expansion.


If you do this before the 9th September this will be at our guaranteed founder’s rate: 
your subs will never increase again.

Subscribe now for £5 per month. 
or yearly for just £40.

Or if you simply want to support us with a one-off donation, you can do so here.

more new music

A breathless half-hour takes in screaming, stop-start song structures and the odd hint of reflectiveness
The American singer's eighth album is rife with downtempo ruminations on love
A thrilling blast of deep rooted culture and devout belief
Two decades on from Patti Smith and the original pink sheep, the anniversary edition proved again that Latitude's real headliners are rarely at the top of the bill
From Korean bluegrass to gigantic Ugandan xylophones, the global diversity of musical life is here
A championing, but also perhaps a dilution, of South African innovation
The return of a punk-era landmark of British art rock
With a danceable rock feel she displays her burgeoning creativity