In these bleak and pox-ridden times, a band like Y Niwl – killer instrumental surf music from the slopes of Snowdonia, played in terrifying woolen jumpers – are pure sunbeam salve. Their genre rifling comes perfect and unadulterated – no extraterrestrial goofballing a la Man Or Astro-man?, none of the Bambi Molesters’ overdipped cinematic twirls – just plugged in, original-dust-on-the-console beach riffs, fresh swimming in hooks and sunshine. If you want objective criticism, other websites are available: few other bands this year have made me happier by just Playing It Straight, from the playful one-two-three of Spring’s debut seven inch to the sporadic, unassuming, devastating gigs around the country. When good surf music hits, you feel no pain (unless you don’t like surf music).
Compared initially with their debut EP, Y Niwl’s ten track album suffers from the lack of big hitting zing that marked ‘Un’ or ‘Tri’. There’s a whole ocean under the surface though, gold moments that stitch together the tight-as interplay. ‘Chwech’s ebb and flow features a guitar line that emerges upwards like some crooked Kraken; ‘Undegpump’ treads a dynamically spot on line between Dick Dale throb, rinky dink strutting and sweet horizontal party guitar. Half the album is smothered nicely with that reedy, queasy organ sound more often found in ’60s psych garage – check ‘Deg’s swirly pop lines for both a nightclub hit and an ace, grinning double time outro. Everything comes together on ‘Saith’, where slow, slumbering notes give way to piercing keyboard bursts before riding a superb all guns finish, rock horses crashing through the surf.
At 30 minutes, it’s probably about the right length. ‘Y Niwl’ hides perfect rock thrills in deceptively retro clothes. The water’s lovely, stick your whole head in.
