The Super Furry Animals have been speaking a different language to the majority of the 'competition' since they emerged in the mid-1990s.
On their debut album 'Fuzzy Logic', talk was of alien abductions. They then released 'The Man Don't Give A Fuck' which brought together one of the rudest swear words for a four minute, 245-time orgy. The band have since proceeded to inject humour and no little sonic invention into subjects as unlikely as demons, hurricanes and mobile phones.
This time around, of course, they truly are speaking in tongues. 'Mwng' or 'Mane' (as in horses) is a purely Welsh language album and is a theoretically disorientating and complex, but triumphantly audacious, experience.
Initial uncertainties as to how the vocals will actually communicate are quickly lost, as it soon becomes clear how unintelligible Gruff was always sounding on record anyway. In fact, one of the most fascinating aspects of 'Mwng', is how vocals can be used as patterns, shapes and swells of sound, rather than (frequently) ham-fisted and hackneyed grasps at meaning.
Brian Wilson - errant Beach Boys genus - at his maddest became obsessed with the theory of assimilating the voice(es) as an instrument and this ideal is perhaps most noticeable with the mashed ebb and flow of 'Ymaelodi A'r Ymylon', which rises and falls magnificently at the sloping whim of the vocals.
But ultimately, despite the potentially bewildering impact of an entirely fresh approach to linguistics, it is musically that the Super Furries have really leapt, or stepped back on 'Mwng'. Because, whereas on previous releases, the band have gradually built the instruments and effects more and more, layer upon layer, this is decidedly sparse.
At times folky - the eerie melancholia of 'Nythod Cacwn' - others eccentric - the playground free-for-all of 'Ysbeidiau Heulog - frazzled and psychedelic - the glam insurrection of 'Drygioni' or just plain generic - the Velvet Underground strum of 'Y Teimlad' - 'Mwng' reeks of wilful ingenuity and insular power. And is all the better for those things. Whether it works as a statement of direct action against multi-national corporate control - as has been implied - or the rebuilding of local (ie isolated Welsh) communities ditto - is another question entirely.
'Mwng' is at its best when insidious menace rumbles into view and the horn section, particularly, are allowed maximum room to stalk amongst the unsettling vocals and organic acoustics. Most effective are 'Pan Ddaw'r Wawr', with its gradual drop into a perishing trumpet swirl, and 'Sarn Helen', which is evil personified. Medieval vibes pervade, like a desolate, sub-Ennio Morricone vision of vulture-scarred landscapes, replete with scary howls and cries. This track is a claustrophobic death-march.
And although much of 'Mwng' is, perhaps because of the speed of recording (two weeks) and chosen precision, a little perfunctory sonically speaking - psychedelic folk is an apt bracket if one is required - surprise constantly pounces.
This is best seen on the closing 'Gwreiddiau Dwfn', which mutates from a simplistic SFA chantathon, sung, seemingly, by Gruff impersonating a weeping cat, into a balmy, trumpet-laden, percussively swollen, electro-spiralling freak-out. A fitting close.
'Mwng' seals the Super Furry Animals position as figureheads of futuristic rock and calls loud but confusingly for others to follow. Singing in a different language. And making it work. How rock is that?
