Animal Magic: The time the Super Furries turned up at the Eisteddfod in a tank

Image credit: Catherine SharplesThe is an extract from the book International Velvet: How Wales Conquered the ’90s Charts by Neil Collins

Pontypridd is currently hosting its first National Eisteddfod since 1893 and approximately 160,000 visitors are expected this year.

The largest cultural festival in Europe started yesterday and concludes on Saturday (10 August). On exactly the same dates in 1996, the National Eisteddfod was held in Llandeilo, where the Super Furry Animals ruffled feathers by arriving in a tank and then whistling the words to their English-language songs.

Here is an exclusive extract from Neil Collins’ new book International Velvet: How Wales Conquered the ’90s Charts, which revisits the unforgettable era when Manic Street Preachers, Catatonia, Stereophonics, Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci and of course, the Super Furries, won over the masses…

‘We the Super Furry Animals have acquired a Super Furry tank.

‘The tank is our very own non-violent, travelling sound system.

‘Given the opportunity, we will de-commission all existing armed vehicles. They will be adapted to shoot food over long distances to famine-struck areas, providing thousands of ex-soldiers with employment.

‘In the meantime, our iron-plated mobile disco will be visiting a location near u (sic) in the near future.

‘THINK TANK! SFA.’

In the above fax dated 3 June 1996, Super Furry Animals announced their new mode of transport. Not just any old vehicle, but a techno tank bought from Nottingham for £10,000.

Just a fortnight after the release of their debut album, Fuzzy Logic, the band and Creation Records were seemingly blowing vital marketing budget. But buying a tank proved to be a master stroke as it provided more publicity than any ad or positive review ever could.

Bilingual, internationalist and pacifist in their ethos, an army vehicle had never been used in such a way before, especially being driven directly into the National Eisteddfod.

Blasting out The Beach Boys and painted bright blue with the band’s name emblazoned in yellow block caps, the tank trundled towards the fields of Llandeilo where far more civilised events like poetry recitations and clog dancing were happening. Ironically, in keeping with the traditions of the Eisteddfod, a question was spelled out above its headlights: ‘A oes heddwch?’ (‘Is there peace?’)

As harps were serenely plucked and bards were being anointed, the group rolled into town. Dating back to the druidic rites of the twelfth century, the Eisteddfod had never experienced anything like the Furries. Even worse, they performed some of their ‘Saesneg’ songs at this strictly Welsh-language only festival (and to further take the mick, they whistled the banned lyrics).

An organiser had earlier assured the media that the Furries would be on their best Welsh-speaking behaviour, but he was in for a bit of a shock, as Ric Rawlins recalled in Rise of the Super Furry Animals:

‘The festival spokesman wandered down to the stage where Super Furry Animals were playing…The crowd were singing along to an instrumental performance. Stranger still, although some were singing in Welsh, others were singing in English…and was that even Japanese he heard? He walked into the audience and spotted a girl handing out lyric sheets.

“Would you mind if I took a look at this?” He smiled, grabbing a pamphlet…The lyrics were printed in a variety of translations with a simple instruction: “SING ALONG IN WHICHEVER LANGUAGE YOU LIKE.”

‘The spokesperson put his quivering hand over his mouth…The contradiction of voices as they blended into one another made for an almighty sound – indecipherable, certainly – but also a strange kind of international language.’

‘Sons of Thatcher’

In a S4C documentary, one interviewee accused the band of being the ‘sons of Thatcher’ for their move into the more lucrative English-language market. He argued that as they grew up with a prime minister that preached greed-empowering individualism, they clearly had no social responsibility. In another scene, a bunch of teenagers drive across the Severn Bridge only to find their Welsh radio morphs, horror film-like, into the English language.

Thankfully, by May 1998, (Furries frontman) Gruff Rhys’ fear of being disowned by his own country had died down, as he told The Guardian:

‘It was greatly exaggerated. We were the subject of a radio phone-in. Then the Welsh-speaking news wheeled in a few farmers to slag us off. It wasn’t national outrage, just paranoia.

‘They thought we were undermining thirty years of political groundwork for the Welsh language. I do feel a certain responsibility, but we just love singing and have no phobias about the English language.’

The tank continued to transport the band around the UK festival circuit with the twin purpose of pumping out techno that could challenge the Criminal Justice Act.

Repetitive beats

In December 2016, Gruff said to Vice: ‘The government had banned repetitive beats on a loud sound system, so anyone caught playing repetitive beats in public could have their sound system confiscated. We wanted to DJ at music festivals, so we thought if we converted a tank and put some decks inside and speakers on top, nobody could shut us down.

‘I remember going to the Reading Festival and our sound system was louder than the second stage!’

(Former head of Creation Records) Alan McGee added: ‘Our record plugger found a by-law where you could drive armed vehicles around London between four and six in the morning, so he drove the tank to Radio 1 and parked it outside and plugged the record.’

After the summer, the tank was put into retirement – or more specifically, sold to Don Henley of Eagles.

‘He got it shipped over to his ranch in Texas,’ said Gruff. ‘But he had no interest in the band and I think he got it painted back to its original colours. It was just a weird kind of epilogue.’

International Velvet: How Wales Conquered the ’90s Charts by Neil Collins is available now in bookshops and online via Calon.