Fruits and Griffnuts

Well, congratulations to Paul for hammering the last tube into this complex scaffolding of a Miwsig blog, so that we can now refresh the site with outlandish tales on a more regular basis. Sampled Pontypridd’s Clwb Y Bont last night and met their Thursday night writer-in-residence John Evans, a guy who has ample experience of wrestling with the mainstream and the arts’ establishment with underground values intact. John writes of Valleys’ culture with poetic direction and harnessed anger, and it was interesting to hear his tales of political stands and creative ventures that kind of wound us up idea-wise like toy cars. If you’re such inclined, it’s definitely worth checking out his class, sort of a kung-fu for the poetically-inclined?!

The weekend was another hectic one of rushing manfully between Cardiff and the valley, encountering the fruits and, erm, griffnuts of modern culture as I went. It started on Thursday of course with Gruff Rhys regaling Treorchy’s Parc and Dare with a set straight out of surreal spaceland, some of the packed audience calling out for old songs, some not handling the fact he sang nearly exclusively in Welsh (the shame!), but most having an hour whiled away in the inspiring presence of a national treasure. Gruff and his performing partner Lisa Jen sat themselves down behind a desk like Blue Peter presenters, bizarre paraphernalia and props scattered all around, the original folk songs and set pieces evoking images of Ivor Cutler and Half Man Half Biscuit meeting in a comic-book hinterland.

Friday saw the Robin Hood of valleys’ cover bands (oh yes) The Con Artists go into another fine gear in the Lion’s Den of Ton Pentre’s sunbed and steroids capitol Fagin’s. Their usual crowd of adoring young ladies formed a kind of exotic shield in front of the band, while behind pulsed a crowd that lapped up the new music atmosphere in a sea of beer. Taking my usual place behind a pillar, at times the way the lads spat out songs from the current mainstream alternative into the shimmering throng evoked thoughts of a Clash-like subversion of modern indie. At least a new infusion of some kind of energy, which the lads always bring. In a climate of cover bands only too willing to tow the establishment line, a hotbed of horrible retro rock posturing, this is something original to hang your hat on.

Saturday a bit of a lost night experimenting with Cardiff bars when we really should have been attending the Nevergrowup Weekender at Tommy’s Bar which featured a cluster of interesting Brighton bands and also the promise of “riotgrrl and geekcore” (I got the times wrong so we missed the gist). Or maybe we should have been at the Genod Droog gig at Ifor Bach. Instead Callaghans, and the two modern urban evils of emo and haircut/leather jacket/straw hat music saw us making our own fun. The DJ though was great, fighting a losing battle with the straw hats after they invaded the area behind the decks, her Tilly and the Wall, CSS and other such nuggets shining like stars in the encroaching grey skies of The Kings of Leon and such. Does she want to help me out with the Pop Miwsig Disco? She’d be more than welcome. Get in touch. Abersoch is next. Before that, Thomas Truax and the hornicator tonight, Clwb Ifor Bach, supported by our Ellie Harwood’s Silver Spurs among others.

NJ

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