The Press Article
Supergrass - Leeds Town And Country Club
Smile on face, brother onstage, though absent from head, Gaz Coombes steps up and delivers the message.
"Hello, Leeds," he says.
And that's it. That's all he says all night, pretty much. Not for him, "Welcome back to our joyous roadshow." No way, "Exciting times these, friends, what with our drummer's girlfriend gravid with their second child." Not even, "Leeds, you're very sweaty."
Wrong place, wrong band for that, as Supergrass are here to play us some happy songs from their new happy LP. No tricky insistence on the difficult, because look, here are the hits, too - all of them! 'Mansize Rooster'! 'Alright'! All of them! - and what we are watching is Supergrass dealing in that most fascinatingly simple of commodities: A Good Time. The precise, profound content of which is as follows.
But saying stuff? Stuff to say? What Supergrass have to offer is something really just as valuable as saying stuff, because what Supergrass are is a group who give you music that is entirely of themselves. Supergrass aren't 'cartoon' at all. Supergrass are a documentary with good tunes, of a world that may be odd, but is most definitely theirs.
Who even looks like this? Gaz: escaped from a circus act where they have monkeys who surf. Mick, a ball of round bass-playing parenthood. Danny, a man whose face can convey all rich complexions of idiocy, and moves like the twang of a ruler on a classroom desk. together they goon and sweat inside a world that can countenance only good things. Like a smoke. Like a drink. Like good records.
Particularly, they like good records. The 'Grass may have changed: the adolescent punkishness of their debut, the organic spaciness of 'In It For The Money', to the mellow richness of their new songs, all still seem to have come from the strange, plinky-plonk world they inhabit. Stoned jokes. Strange clothes. In a field, under a tree, in the sun, summer 1967.
With Gaz's brother along, too. The stoic, slightly long-faced presence of Bobsie Coombes at the keyboards is where the root of much of Supergrass' seamless evolution can be traced. his hand drives the Taxi-theme-like 'Mary' through the streets of Brooklyn, meanwhile the likes of the new 'Moving' succeed in finding the logical meeting point between Tim Buckley and 'A Rush And A Push...' by The Smiths.
But to say? Well, there's one that posits a new theory of divinity. It's called 'Jesus Came From Outer Space'.
Gaz throws his water upon the bouncing masses and knows that all is good. Boing. Time, perhaps, to say something. Time for one last message.
"See ya, Leeds," he says.
John Robinson, NME - 22 May 1999