Album of the Week: Gruff Rhys – Dim Probs

With all the noise surrounding a certain ‘90s band reunion that dragged on for a year before finally hitting the stage, it’s easy to forget that dozens of artists of that era are still making vital, arguably better music today. Suede, for instance, released the excellent Antidepressants just last week, hot on the heels of 2022’s Autofiction. Likewise, Gruff Rhys, former frontman of Super Furry Animals, returns this week with Dim Probs, his ninth solo album and seventh since SFA quietly went on indefinite hiatus 16 years ago.

Anyone familiar with Rhys, whether through SFA, his solo work or other collaborations, already knows his knack for classic pop-rock songwriting, honed over more than 30 years. His music is gloriously eclectic, pulling as much from the ‘60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s as from global folk traditions, while always sounding distinctly his own. In short, he remains one of the most compelling pop craftsmen of his generation.

Sung entirely in Welsh, Dim Probs (“No Probs”) is a breezy, effortlessly melodic collection of folk-rock songs adorned with delicate instrumental touches. It’s Rhys’ third full-length in his native language, following SFA’s much-loved Mwng and his solo debut Yr Atal Genhedlaeth, and like those records, it finds him at his most natural and comfortable. The songs here glisten with joy and careful, sharp precision.

Immediate highlights include opener Pan Ddaw’r Haul I Fore (“When the Sun Comes to Morning”), with its sparkling guitars evoking the pastoral side of the Grateful Dead, a feel that’s echoed in the similarly excellent title track. Saf Ar Dy Sedd (“Stand on Your Seat”) boasts a melody as irresistible as much in his past SFA catalogue, while the stripped-back sunshine pop of Chwyn Chwyldroadol! (“Revolutionary Weed!”) is a pure, carefree delight.

For non-Welsh speakers, the lyrics may be opaque, but the music and singing more than makes up for it. These songs often radiate warmth and optimism, perfectly suiting this in-between season when flashes of honeyed sunlight break through grey autumn clouds. Even the darker moments, like Cyflafan (“Massacre”) and Gadael Fi Fyn (“Let Me Go”) possess an understated beauty, with sparse electronic drums and ghostly synths illuminating Rhys’ perfect melodies. His innate melodic gift ensures the record is as enjoyable without translation as it is with. And for those curious, learning a little Welsh will only deepen the immersion, and perhaps there is some of Rhys’ trademark humour to be found within.

As the days shorten and mornings grow dimmer, Dim Probs offers a shot of brightness to carry us toward winter. It’s another gem in Rhys’ quietly remarkable solo run, and as much as I’d give my right arm for an SFA reunion in 2025, Rhys’ solo career continues to be so consistently rewarding that it hardly feels necessary.

Gruff Rhys – Dim Probs is Out Now on Vinyl & CD