Super Furry Animals
– Phantom Power
Super Furry Animals had long since tossed the instruction manual into the sea. Phantom Power isn’t the work of a band trying to prove anything—this is what happens when you’ve already warped pop, punk, prog, and electronics into your own private language. The hooks are still here, sure, but they’re wearing fake moustaches and whispering in Welsh accents. What makes Phantom Power stand out is its refusal to commit to any one thing for too long. The band shape-shifts track to track, genre to genre, like pop culture archaeologists having too much fun with the artifacts.
Best of…
There’s a warmth to this album that feels both stoned and startlingly sharp. Gruff Rhys sounds like the hungover ghost of a glam rock messiah, drifting in and out of clarity, crooning about nuclear dread, quiet mornings, and the occasional romantic hallucination. Behind him, the band never lets anything sit still. One moment it’s acoustic balladry on a lazy river, the next it’s a fuzzed-out anthem with a jet engine strapped to its back. It’s not a concept album, but it has the feel of a collage with intent—beautiful and cracked.
What’s really wild is how Phantom Power manages to sound casual while clearly being built with care. The production is lo-fi in spirit but rich in detail, and the arrangements hide their ambition behind wry grins. This is music that floats rather than drives, but it knows where it’s going—even if you don’t. And maybe that’s the point. You don’t follow Super Furry Animals for direction; you go along because you trust them to make the detour worth it.
Choice Tracks
Hello Sunshine
This opener eases in with a sample, a sigh, and a melody so simple it feels like an old friend. It’s earnest without schmaltz, warm without being sleepy. A love song filtered through the haze of too many late nights and not enough breakfast.
Golden Retriever
Three minutes of glammy grit and teeth-baring charm. It’s the band at their most immediate and unfiltered, built on a crunchy riff and a singalong chorus that wouldn’t be out of place on a T. Rex B-side. One of their most accessible moments, but still weird enough to be theirs.
Slow Life
The album’s climax and a full-on sonic detonation. Starts off gentle, contemplative—then drops into an electronic freakout that feels like you’re watching the sunrise on another planet. Gruff’s voice holds it all together like a narrator who’s unsure if the story is real.
Venus and Serena
Oddball lounge croon with sly humor and just enough sweetness to keep it grounded. A song that manages to sound both nostalgic and utterly alien. It doesn’t announce itself as a highlight—you realize later it never really left your head.
The Piccolo Snare
Understated but devastating. The title is silly, but the mood isn’t. Gently psychedelic and quietly political, it walks the line between lullaby and protest song. An emotional deep cut that proves the band knows how to hit soft and still make it count.
Phantom Power doesn’t demand your attention—it invites you to sink into it. It’s subtle, strange, and oddly comforting. The kind of album that doesn’t yell genius at you, but mumbles it under its breath while building something wild in the background.