words: JUSTIN EVANS photos: SIMON AYRE
So I got my wristband on Thursday afternoon, ensuring no fussing and faffing had to be done when I arrived. My taxi to Cardiff city centre pulls up; crossing the road towards Womanby Street are Holly and David of THE LOVELY EGGS and Casey Raymond, who directed a video [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUnYY3uCwTE] for them a while back. This seems like a sign of a perfect Swn ahead.
After a quick chat with them about the new album I’ve been lucky enough to review, first up are EFFLUENCE downstairs in Clwb Ifor Bach. A great, young, punky, garage, grungey way to kick things off, it’s then upstairs for Belgium’s EXPERIMENTAL TROPICAL BLUES BAND, who could delete ‘experi’ from their name. The singer is like a blonde, demented take on the 90s incarnation of Bobby Gillespie, and regularly comes offstage to stalk his prey during songs. Then on to O’Neills on The Hayes for EILIR PIERCE who is excellently different, singing in Welsh and English and offering us copies of his 100-track album from “the back of a van that isn’t here” (his words).
The Lovely Eggs (The Moon Club) proffer a nice mixture of stuff from the new album and old favourites like Digital Accordion and Fuck It. EGYPTIAN HIP-HOP are next in Cardiff Union’s Solus venue. It turns out they’re neither Egyptian nor hip-hop (it’s OK, I knew really) and, while alright are hardly blinding: a sort of Vampire Weekend living in British halls of residence. Hyped to duck a couple of years ago but sort of ignored nowadays, a friend of mine tweeted that they were the worst dressed band of Swn and was promptly RTed by the band themselves. Following them are DJANGO DJANGO, as enjoyable as I dared hope. The mix of styles they work with veers from straight-up indie to dance and dubstep – a bit of everything, and great with it.
This all tired me out unfortunately so it was home for me, nice and fresh for Friday’s Lovely Eggs instore at Spillers Records. It doesn’t matter how many times they’re seen live, they draw you in – this must be the fifth or sixth, for me, and they get better and better. Crowning moment has to be during Fuck It, the chorus being loudly repeated as confused folk walked past outside. It’s been a while since I last saw KUTOSIS (upstairs, Clwb Ifor Bach): they, too, improve with increased viewing, slightly altering some tracks to make them sound so fresh and so clean. To paraphrase Outkast. Up after them are LIARS, in Cardiff for the first time in around a decade. The Australian-birthed band are now equal parts synth and guitar: a mish-mash of styles with substance to match. London’s BO NINGEN, on late in Dempseys, are amazing. With dozens of would-be audience members stuck outside, the floor bounces to their straight haired J-rock thrills, members of Islet and Kutosis among those paying appreciation.
Saturday begins with TOMOS LEWIS (O’Neills): a great, earnest-tuned start from a man who professed his own eager anticipation (and asked if they had kitchen appliances ready) for seeing his successor onstage, QUIET MARAUDER. The avowedly lo-fi Cardiff group serve up nice cosy murder ballads and humour in equal measures; I can’t stop the songtitle I Want A Moustache, Dammit from entering my mind at regular points. Please can you hurry up with an album or EP, guys? Go see Quiet Marauder, you won’t regret it. MARC O’REILLY is next: an Irish guitarist making noises I didn’t think were possible from an acoustic, he’ a bundle of nerves and excitement who tells us of “meeting Gruff Rhys outside and having my photo with him. Feck!” SION RUSSELL JONES, directly afterwards is alright, but next to some ace musicians ends up looking frankly average.
Then it’s off to Chapter Arts Centre for NO THEE NO ESS: excellent as ever, like Cardiff’s very own The Band with between-song, downbeat humour courtesy of Andy Fung. Tricksy Glaswegians ERRORS, too, were excellent, and met with a rousing reception for a danceable, stylistically diverse set. Despite telling myself that Islet, up next, would be the next band I’d see was, I was tempted back into town (one’s best laid plans are liable to evaporate at Swn, such is the choice at any given time). I’m glad I was.
Venturing upstairs in Dempseys, I found my Swn highlight, one-time Turner Prize winner MARTIN CREED. The Scotsman and his band play a fine brand of indie laced with the funniest, most bizarre lyrics on offer – less so when written down, but amazing live, trust me. Repetition of the single lyric “Fuck Off”, or your typical “1-2-3-4” intro shortened until eventually the chorus states, simply, “one”. Famously minimalist in his art, his closing song finds him counting from one to 100. Hard to convey quite how entertaining this is, but he’s signed to Moshi Moshi. See him and buy him. FIST OF THE FIRST MAN (O’Neills, St. Mary Street) were good but at this point, it was bedtime for me…
And so to Sunday and MOWBIRD in Dempseys. Introduced by Radio Wales’ Adam Walton, their youthful energy starts things off well. Energy is at a premium by this point of the weekend: frankly I’m tired and thankful for a Q&A in Chapter with Spillers’ Ashli Todd and writer Graham Jones, author of Last Shop Standing. Despite not having read the book, hearing about the way Jones went across the country finding independent record stores, each with their own story to tell, is enjoyable.
A visit to Gwdihw for Cardiff experimentalists R.SEILIOG proves worthwhile, before GULP (10 Feet Tall) round things off swimmingly for me. Vocalist Lindsey Leven and Super Furries’ Guto Pryce ease me out of my Swn mentality, and for that I thank them. All that’s left is one last drink in Dempseys, the discovery of a doll called Yum Yum in a shop window (please ask someone else) and then it’s home to update my Christmas list with things discovered at this year’s Swn Festival. Don’t worry, Yum Yum wasn’t one of them.