Super Furry Animals played The Sinclair – 7/24

Welsh psychedelic-pop heroes Super Furry Animals stopped by Cambridge’s Sinclair on Sunday for the final night of a short North American tour.

The SFA were initially set to grace our fair East Coast stages back in May following their appearance at Austin’s Levitation Fest, but that gathering’s unfortunate weather-related cancellation prompted them to reschedule four dates to coincide with last weekend’s Pitchfork Music Festival instead. The eight-year wait for their return to Boston would have to extend just a bit further, and judging by how many of the night’s song breaks were punctuated with shouts in the vein of “We missed you!” and “Welcome back!” this crowd was certainly glad it came to an end on Sunday.

Headed by the soft-spoken and frequently deadpan hilarious Gruff Rhys, Super Furry Animals are a band simultaneously understated and off-the-wall. Their largely subdued stage demeanor is playfully at odds with the white plastic suits, space helmets and sarcastic signs that accompany each performance. It all aligns with the musical style the band has pursued over the course of nine albums since 1996 – a catchy, goofy and sometimes strikingly beautiful creative kaleidoscope that could come from no one but them.

As they did in Chicago last weekend, the band opened with the undeniable combo of “Slow Life” and “(Drawing) Rings Around the World,” before deviating into a lengthier setlist that dug further into their back catalog. While the Pitchfork set was wisely a taught greatest-hits affair (such as an oddball band like this one has hits), Sunday’s nearly 90-minute performance naturally allowed room for some deep cuts in addition to the favorites. 2001’s classic Rings Around the World was the most heavily featured (with a sweeping “Run! Christian, Run!” serving as a set highlight), but every LP save for the group’s most recent pair got some attention.

Throughout the set, Super Furry Animals hit many of the same theatrical notes as the Pitchfork show, but it was undeniably more fun to catch them all in the sort of close proximity you only get at a club. Rhys again chewed carrots for percussion on “Receptacle for the Respectable,” but this time offered the remainder of the plate to the front row. And when the band again concluded with an extended “The Man Don’t Give a Fuck,” involving a shaggy costume change befitting their name, it functioned as an even more charmingly strange send-off. (Granted, it was a little difficult to even tell what was going on from half a field away while lining up to shoot Brian Wilson last weekend).

Opening the night was Philadelphia’s Chris Forsyth and The Solar Motel Band, who served up extended psych-jam excursions that grooved and mesmerized. They were certainly on a different wavelength than their hosts, but the set was impressive enough that no one seemed to mind.

Check out photos of both sets below.