Alright. Two days into a post-Sŵn comedown and I’m listening to Mogwai and old ska records and eating Bramley apple pies and looking at people’s photos of Sŵn and people’s Twitters of Sŵn and it all seems such a long, long time ago. People came from London and everything. Blurry memories follow, but one thing is clear: fun doesn’t organise itself. Kudos to anyone trying this stuff.
Personally I’d rather be fired from a cannon over a mountain than go and watch rugby in the Millennium Stadium, but hey, all these people crowding out Cardiff know better, and so what if all the cashpoints are empty or have a fifteen-person queue attached to them? Anyway, this is Friday, and we arrive late into Clwb Ifor Bach. Thankfully, Clwb is running late itself, and spews out Volcano! to a rammed house, who wrap their heads around the band’s fidgety rock. Bits of USA Is A Monster sit next to vocals from Wild Beasts, and most of it rules. More misfits upstairs: The Big Pink spread out in horizontal single file across the stage and make weirdo shoegaze noise. A nicely abrasive edge buffs up their unexpected fluffy moments. Let’s run to the museum! Or rather walk through a thousand Wales-shirted children going home singing. It’s like a Blue Peter Nuremburg out here. They don’t come and see Young Marble Giants though, the fools: they get watched instead by a very respectful pindrop crowd. The chilly acoustics of a three-quarters full lecture theatre are a pretty good setting for this music: quiet, unsettling, almost sociopathic twitching. Bit of a relief then that this set features lots of between song jokes and family shoutouts. Nice stuff, although they basically only offer variations of the same (very good) song. Clwb calls, and we chat to some very nice British Council people on the way, do a little cry upon missing Rolo Tomassi, before a big yelp after pushing to the front for Clinic. Clinic! Super-loud, super-great, and they DESTROY. Shake head in disbelief, shake hands with Matt and Owain from Joy Collective. Alright! Then to the front of Kaz Bar for the end of Casiokids and their great cowbell hoedown. A precise disco hit. Several JC members will later gravitate towards Dempseys, to dance with varying degrees of style and flamboyance to vinyl experts from Forecast. Several people go blind.
Saturday we discover that the Golden Egg is not a Chinese food place, but a decent caff, and that the only bands on at this ungodly hour (3pm) are at the Loose shindig at Tommy’s Bar. Not really possible to describe The New Tea Party and Little My without using the word ‘twee’, but Tommy’s sells Old Rosie cider (7.3%) so IT’S ALL GOING TO BE OKAY. Both bands have their charms though: The New Tea Party have one cracking song (‘Punctuality Is The Thief Of Love’) and they definitely play it during their set, while Little My have a scary and disquieting happiness about them, happy enough to resemble a Christian cult, as my friend said. Blink and we’re suddenly in Spillers, and SJ Esau is playing an instore with his claw-like hands. Way too fey and pathetic to be on Anticon, it’s a shambles that presses on already full bladders and we miss Gindrinker’s instore. For shame. Dirty Sue’s have taken the settees from the old Europa, but kept the straggly potted plant in the toilet. Joined up thinking. Seindorff come on and do the two-brothers-playing-minimal-laptop-beats-or-are-they-checking-emails thing nicely. Off to chippy heroes the Albany Fish Bar and a few steps further to the Gate where Peggy Sue and what used to be called her Pirates are wailing a good old set in the bar. There’s blues enough here to rival Wildbirds And Peacedrums. High praise. Next door, Cate Le Bon’s brief set is overshadowed slightly by the spacious, beautifully ornate hall; someone book Fucked Up here please. Like a boomerang to Clwb, and more wailing, this time from Ectogram. They’ve got a cramped, prosaic take on caterwauling noise, like the Voices without the effects pedals, and I like it. I remember seeing three songs from Golden Silvers in Kaz Bar; I don’t remember what they sounded like. But Cats In Paris smash it at Clwb: poppy, silly, twiddly, keyboard knots untangling boisterously. There is nothing left but to go to Tafod, crawl to the front, take photos of each other’s shoes in the UV light, marvel at Orcop’s meaty electro, and try not to die. Some people do better than others.
That Sŵn wristband should give you a discount at the Riverside Real Food market. It’s the only way to start a Sunday. Broken brains get stitched together at Nos Da too, courtesy of Scrabble Sŵnday, transplanted from its usual monthly residency at Shot In The Dark. The sight of organisers Paul and Lisa’s kindly faces crushes DTs; we stay far too long, and eat their biscuits. We finally stumble into Clwb, for PeppermintPatti’s usual top-hole selection of special stuff. The Lovely Eggs do that cutesy, faux-naif girly shtick very well, well enough to make you forget Morwenna Banks’s little girl character from Absolutely, and well enough to drill rock shapes into your head. Little Eris’s computer equipment plays an absolute shocker, but her lo-fi pop songs carry her one-woman show through. Liz from Loose is also Liz from The School, and though she sounds a little tired, their classy girl group shimmer always mines the right areas, and in ‘All I Wanna Do’ and ‘Let It Slip’ they have two of the best pop songs you’ll hear this year, so ner. This all leads up to a seven months-pregnant Japanese woman, fronting a Hungarian band, and being comprehensively great. Agaskodo Teliverek are a fine whirl of hot drumming, comedy dancing, and joyous yelping. Their noise is tight and riotous and people dance and smile. Total stars. But there’s always room for one more, so towards the Buffalo to hear obscure psych and soul from the Dig/Heavenly/Dim Sŵn lot, played deafeningly loud and in the company of several wankers. That Buffalo is a bit of a cunt magnet seems as clear as always (“We can’t leave now, all the interesting and important people are coming” is one choice quote overheard by my friend) but hey, those tunes are undeniably tunes.
A two day comedown is a compliment by the way. Sŵn equals fun equals good times. Good work all.
