Adam Anonymous looks at the ‘spaced out’ Ceredigion label in the last Spotlight feature, plus we look back at previous businesses given the once-over
[originally published in Sound Nation magazine - Nov 2005]
Forget look-at-me Myspacers or schmoozing independent industry players, because some of the most interesting, trend-defying music still originates from tiny self-starter labels. Wales’s very own self-proclaimed snoozy avant hobbyists Oggum Records are among the best examples of that theory, quietly releasing spaced out yet tuned in transmissions from deepest Ceredigion since, in typically unworried fashion, 1997-ish.
“We were inspired originally by fanzines like Organ and Ptolemaic Terrascope, and the DIY ethic they were writing about,” Oggum architect Dr Daf Roberts reveals. One four-track recorder purchased later and his band Alphane Moon was born.
“We started making links with like-minded labels, and through the goodwill of the Terrascope made a connection with New York label Spiffing. Spiffing planned our first tape as a CD; eventually they released a 7-inch, A Circle of Four. Spiffing did a lovely job of it: hand-made curtain sleeves, silkscreen printed cover, 50 see-through green vinyl. This EP sparked the interest of Norbert Schiller’s Plate Lunch label, and Norbert released our second tape. We were inspired to start Oggum because of the slowness waiting for these CD releases to happen. We imagined we could get things going quicker. We also thought it would be good fun to release music we like in our own way.”
Oggum maintained those early aesthetics, beginning a lovingly crafted back catalogue with Yew Dark On Doze by Alphane Moon / Our Glassie Azoth, each 7-inch on coloured vinyl with home-made sleeves. As with many micro-budgeted labels, cash has been reasonably tight, however.
“The very first 7-inch was self-funded,” explains Dr Roberts. “We consequently got a lottery grant for some releases leading up to the Yr Agor compilation. Since then we’ve used the income from releases – including releases of our music on other labels – to finance things. It’s very shoestring.”
“We tend to like doing things on our own,” he replies, when asked if Oggum feel part of the Welsh music industry. “We have a very relaxed schedule, and certainly don’t feel part of any industry, although I can see benefits in working in a more focused way, and it could be useful to have more support. Distribution is very hard for odd music.”
The late, great John Peel latched onto the label through Electroscope’s 7-inch, a record Dr Roberts cites as his favourite Oggum project so far. “They were lovely to work with and it was the first one Peel played. He went on to support Nimbus 2000 and heavily plugged our Yr Agor CD. Good lad.”
Dr Roberts’ closing wish for the future is to “just follow our own interests”, which says everything you need to know about Oggum. Gloriously unconcerned by what’s fashionable, this is a label for people for whom music is truly a way of life.
So began V Festival 2005, with Andy Fatman accidentally phoning his mother instead of his wife-to-be and announcing his condition in the most Fatman way possible. She might not have known what the word meant, but she knew exactly what he was. And fair play – Fatman had every right to be ruined. Virgin’s Branson Regime had thoughtfully organised this year’s V as his stag do (or maybe it was to rake in £18 million in gate receipts). Either way, it worked.
We descended en masse: myself (Neil Crud), The Secretary, Steve Sync, Fairziff, Trevski, Jules, Stack, Pauline, Will, Pippa, Gaz, Jess, Richard, Joyce, Graham, Linda, Gareth, and a few more who melted into the blur. Arriving early Friday, Fatman upset the neighbours by claiming an oak tree as his own and shifting a few tents to establish “The Stag Tree Village.” Stack’s chemical toilet spared the ladies the horrors of festival latrines, while Fatman stocked up on his annual Imodium-and-bananas diet to avoid shitting until midweek.
Friday Night – Cans, Barriers, and Volvic Branding
Friday night is for drinking, not bands. By 3pm our 48-cans-each strategy was in full swing. The V rules forbid booze in the arena, but Andy Fatman was determined to cheat the system. His first attempt went spectacularly wrong: stumbling in his “cunted state,” he brought down an entire barrier and exposed his contraband to security, who pounced screaming, “He’s got cans!” No shame in that – but every other time he sauntered through, sometimes with ten Carlings stashed about his person. Legend.
Inside, we hit the corporate-branded Volvic Tent (remember when festivals weren’t full of bottled-water sponsorship?). A few years earlier it would’ve been all hoodies, whistles, and thumping house, but 2005 was the year guitars reclaimed the dancefloor. Instead of “bang bang bang,” we had 5,000 voices belting I Predict A Riot and Roll With It. Indie was king. House was dead.
Saturday – Bands, Booze, and Prodigy Firestarters
Stag weekend rules dictate: wake up hungover, crack open a can at 6am, repeat. By Carling No.4, Fatman was crafting a cardboard drumkit for Gaz while boasting he had “red wine, wet wipes, and Rohypnol in case he got lucky” (Abi Titmuss being his highly questionable target).
Musically, we swerved the main stage (“Rooster can suck my corporate cock,” declared Fatman) and made for the Channel 4 tent. No Hope For New Jersey claimed to be the saviours of rock ’n’ roll – perhaps a touch optimistic. El Presidente followed, and their Bryan Ferry–styled frontman and infectious glam-funk hooks had the tent bouncing. A surprise highlight.
The Frames provided a lull – my notes from then include gems like “Andy needs a wank on his own shit” and “Old women’s witch tits.” Blame the cider. The Ordinary Boys passed me out completely, though Fatman thought they were “fucking ace.”
The night belonged to The Prodigy. Tens of thousands packed in for Keith Flint’s return. Firestarter lit up with a flare in the crowd, and the whole field convulsed. Punk energy fully restored.
Sunday – From Goldie Looking Chain to Oasis (Yawn)
The Stands opened Sunday with a typical Scouse Zanzibar sound – all Beatles echoes and Zutons cameos. Then came Goldie Looking Chain, safe-as-fuck dole wallers from South Wales, shouting about “No Win No Fee” and batter-based sexcapades. Comedy genius.
Elsewhere, Good Charlotte tried their best – Sync thought they were “a breath of fresh air” before revising his opinion to “spleen-churningly average.” The Bravery split the camp (“Duran Duran from New York” vs. “total ROCK show”), while Kaiser Chiefs proved why I Predict A Riot was the anthem of the year.
By contrast, The Streets fell flat (“a poor man’s Goldie Looking Chain”), and when Oasis ambled onstage, even Cigarettes & Alcohol couldn’t hide the fact that the Gallaghers looked bored stiff. We bailed for The Chemical Brothers – impressive beats, but watching two blokes press play hardly screamed “live.”
True salvation came in the form of Robert Plant, striding through Gallows Pole like the legend he is. A brief, glorious moment of history amidst the corporate indie gloss.
Mud, Piss, and Stag-Do Glory
As the heavens opened, washing 60,000 gallons of accumulated piss across the site, even our mighty oak tree surrendered. Tents collapsed, cans floated, and we drowned in lager, mud, and laughter.
V Festival 2005 was bloated, oversold, and corporate as hell. But it was also a stag do, a reunion, a drunken circus of smuggled Carling and rock ’n’ roll chaos. Fatman wouldn’t have had it any other way.
[review by ste sync] I’ve just remembered why I haven’t reviewed a gig for so long – It really adds hard work to an already very busy day, but I’m not one to complain (fuck me!) so here goes. I went down to the Dudley at 4pm to buy my ticket and to check that the bands on the schedule I wanted to see had turned up – yes they had. Scott Bakers had just started their set when I arrived, and I’d been looking forward to seeing them since the demise of Kneejerk because the direction the band were taking was SkaCore – Fast guitar skank, with punk power chords at lightening pace. Now I’ve played some fast songs live in my time, but I wouldn’t like to attempt to jam along with some of their songs. When the band played at the same tempo together, their sound really shone through, but there were some moments where because of the sheer pace of the songs, the bands tempo lost each other, but this will be ironed out the more rehearsals the band have and I’m looking forward to seeing their improvements soon.
I missed The Pain due to me re-fuelling on chip butties, before Crud gave me a lift back down just in time for 3 Minute Warning.
One of the main reasons for me turning up to this event was 3 Minute Warning. What a sound they make, they have a punk, almost Clash like edge to them, and Ska keyboards very reminiscent to Mike Barson’s from Madness, and for an old school 79 Ska Boy like myself, they provide some great flash backs. Crud and myself couldn’t control our heads bobbing along to this sound you can’t stay still to. Crud has played a couple of songs by this band on his radio show, but you really have to see it live to appreciate the whole thing. After the gig I managed to blag an official Eatin Aint Cheatin CD from the pork pie hat wearing keyboard player, which hasn’t been off my CD player yet!
Crud and myself were enjoying a pint outside in the sun while the bands were packing up and setting up their gear, we both agreed that with the people and the atmosphere around the venue, it was like being whisked back 25 years which is great escapism for anyone wanting to reminisce (shit did I just say that?). Seize The Day were late arriving and by the time they did, Dave Cox realised that 3 Minute Warning who had to leave straight after their set, had the bass amp the rest of the bands playing today were meant to be using.
Crud had to leave early due to other commitments (hair wash!) and we had to find a solution for the bass problem, so after a very brief sound check with the bass plugged into the PA (sounded fine) Seize The Day blasted into their first song. I saw this band play at the Dudley a few months back, and they pulled in a big crowd then, and they were equally as popular today. They are fucking well tight and held together by some great speed drumming, every song played at pace with furious energy, and yes, they played Ham & Cheese! Top stuff, and I want to see more gigs from them.
After Seize The Day, I thought I’d try and find The Dangerfields to tell them that the bass amp problem had been sorted. I found them outside rehearsing under the arches of Vale Road bridge, with the drummer/vocalist using his thighs as drums and whispering the lyrics quietly to himself. If you’ve ever seen The Dangerfields live before, you will know that what I witnessed under the bridge was the strangest ‘unplugged session’ I think I’ve ever seen. This band demand volume and attention, as I found when I gave Dave a hand on the sound desk to get the levels right before their set. Once the sound was set, the vocalist/drummer tempted the crowd back in by saying Dave Cox would lap dance for them all personally. They powered through their high paced set with the guitarist playing whilst on his back on the floor, among the mosh pit, or even with his guitar behind his head. Great show!
The Nerds are an Italian punk band (who would have thought such things exist) who are currently on tour with The Dangerfields, in fact both bands after their performances tonight, had to drive to their next gig in fucking Inverness! Local bands take note, shouldn’t you be widening your horizons?
After helping Dave with The Dangerfields sound, it now appeared that I should be helping with The Nerds, which I did to the best of my capabilities. This band have a great live image with their menacing front man dressed in an orange boiler suit, screaming lyrics and contorting his body across the stage. In one song the vocalist put a black sack over his head with the mic pushed up to it to sing, and with the orange boiler suit, it suddenly dawned on me where I’d seen this image before – Iraq beheading victims. This maybe too strong an image for some people, but it takes a lot to shock me with an image, and I respected their use of these garments for their performances sake, as it did give them an extra edge.
Big punk rock wall of sound with wailing lyrics, what more could you need? Well, after The Nerds I needed a break so I ended up going to Wetherspoons for a couple too many, so I missed Drongo’s For Europe and the other bands, and ended up copping off with a pizza! Great night though, I hope I can get to more of the next Dirty Weekend.
‘Why does Steve Rastin look like he’s on a cruise, or an extra on Love Boat?’ Enquired Ste Sync as Rastin passed us in his summer attire. He had reason to feel colourful, he had booked the long awaited arrival of Zombina to our humble no horse town. But first we were warmed up by Delayed Promise from Manchester as Andy Fatman explains:
‘What language was she singing in? I say this cos the vocals were so muffled it was hard to work them out against a musically tight power-pop-rock background. And why does the drummer always feel the need to embellish any between-song banter / info with flourishes of cymbals…? Resulting in a nightmare for reviewers!
The guitarists vocals didn’t fare much better, proving that soundchecks are a pointless exercise. But amid the PA problems, promise was shown from a visually static performance that influenced the gathered few. This was always going to be an uphill struggle, going on before Jives Room (with their home support) & Zombina (striving for legendary status in these parts).’ Great third song; good riffage, great drumming, would love to hear them on CD.
There had been rumours that this was to be Jives Room’s final gig, which was news to them and as Natasha explains it was a top performance with some good new songs ending with that timeless ‘CAM’ with the words “Fuck fuck fuck Cymdeithas.”
’Jives Room made a welcome return to the live circuit with their rousing rock’n’roll anthems. Kyle “The Accusing Angel” shouts and sings with angst and style, he’s definitely one to watch for the future. Their first gig in over a month was admirable, well timed and on the pulse with a tighter set. It feels like they’ve never been away. We love ‘em!’
The arrival of Zombina and The Skeletones has been long overdue after a couple of aborted attempts at getting them to Rhyl, the beach boy Rastin finally got his claw hammer out to tug the last nail out of the coffin and release the bats on Blu. It was another sell out crowd and they were in for a treat.
With the theatrical blood flowing from every available orifice in wonderful contrast against the pan-stick make up Zombina delivered a horror-billy show. We were saying it would’ve been ace to have lived in the 1950s when all this kind of stuff was about, a sort of deep south demented rawk! But we weren’t sure if the original bands playing it were from the sixties parodying the fifties; does anyone know the answer to that? We can all turn around in our graves and yell The Cramps! But it was The Cramps who copied the sixties bands. Regardless, it was all ace and so are Zombina; and to my knowledge they’re the only ones doing this stuff right now.
Playing a selection of choice material including the excellent Counting On Your Suicide they too were dogged with the quiet vocal problem but the audience lapped it up for the 35 minutes, and for once I wanted more, but you don’t get an encore at Blu, and its good to be left wanting. More please.
[transcript from Sound Nation magazine August 2005]
Iasobe? is the first offering from Boobytrap's Kentucky AFC since the release of their debut album. This EP features four songs plus the six-minute plus instrumental, Gizmo.
Y Salwch kicks off with good, jangly, guitars which lead into a strong, Supergrass-ish chorus, and the more rocky Y Gwan A I Flydd demonstrates great riff-writing ability. Praidd relies more upon instrumentation to drive the song but still shows the band's raucous but disciplined vocals, then fourth track Un Ffordd opens with pounding drums and a frenetic pace.
All the songs are guitar driven, and Kentucky AFC certainly prove their talents at writing catchy riffs. The production (courtesy of the band, plus Matth from The Keys and Dyl Mei at Cardiff's Music Box) is a little fuzzy but this only adds to the raw sound of the EP. This is a positive release from the band and is set to be a fan pleaser. VE
🎸 Cream Tangerine – Band Profile (Wrexham, Wales)
🧱 Formation & Line-up
Formed: Summer 1999, Wrexham, North Wales
Members:
Gini – guitar, vocals
Joni – keyboards
Laszlo – drums
Zen – bass
Joey – guitar
🎶 Style & Reception
Described as eclectic with “good material”.
Blended alt-rock with melodic and experimental tones; likened loosely to early Elbow, Geneva, or Six By Seven in spirit, though remaining very much underground.
Gained positive attention from Adam Walton on BBC Radio Wales, a key champion of Welsh emerging music.
📀 Releases
EP: Horseface – released April 2002
EP: 7 Deadly Skins – July 2003
Track: Kerb This – March 2004 (included on Glastonbury Unsigned Bands 2004 compilation, Concrete Recordings)
📻 BBC Radio Wales Session
Live airplay: Adam Walton’s show in March 2003
Radio session: 31 July 2005 (does anyone have a recording of this?)
🎤 Live Performances
The Stand, Rhyl – 30 September 2000 – broadcast live on Radio Wales
Supported:
The Bluetones
The Stands
Haven
Active in the North Wales–Liverpool circuit (notably Sound, Central Station, Barfly, and Telfords Warehouse venues)
It all slotted into place really. Steve Sync accompanied me and I did my monthly stint on BBC Radio Wales with Adam Walton. We had to pre-record it because we were off to see The Damned, so we played Blind Justice and the Psycho Sexual Sex Terrestrials, had a quick coffee with Adam and Ben Soundhog and headed for Central Station.
Parking somewhere safe in Wrexham town centre and then having to run the gauntlet of Chavs through the streets is quite an experience! But we safely made it unscathed right on cue for The Damned to alight the stage.
I had earlier commented on air that I’ve seen these 15 times, a slight exaggeration I’m sure, but let’s try and recap anyway:
Colwyn Bay (1981), Chester Northgate Arena (1984), Manchester International (1985), Finsbury Park (1986), Llandudno Conference Centre (2003), Wrexham Central Station (2005) and again tonight! So that’s 7 times, err… not quite 15 but hey! I get excited!
I get even more excited when Captain Sensible announces they’re celebrating 30 years since the release of that seminal album ‘Machine Gun Etiquette.’ He then realises he should’ve said 25 years, and we could’ve corrected him for it’s 26 years!
Jesus! 26 years since first I pogoed around my bedroom to that LP, torn between which one I was gonna be in my bedroom mirror performance… Am I the cool slick Dave Vanian or the guitar god but circus clown that is Captain Sensible?
So The Damned kicked in, as that excellent LP does, with Love Song, and following the track listing to Second Time Around then I Just Can’t Be Happy Today. The sound was awesome, it was loud enough to raise the roof on this wet Sunday night and the power took your breath away. I did think we were going to be treated to the album in its running order and entirety but that stopped with the fourth track Street of Dreams, which was introduced by acid crazed keyboard player Monty as ‘Cunt’ !!!
The immense sounding History of The World preceded the lament to Michael Jackson, Neverland, which is off the latest Damned release ‘Grave Disorder’ (available and highly recommended on Nitro Recs). By now drummer Pinch was looking worse for wear and it was announced that he was suffering from a 3 day hangover all in one day after the Rock & Blues Festival. Anti-Pope followed and the excellent free form punk bits where the rhythm section chug along allowing the Captain to express himself and impress us with his guitar skills were smattered throughout this short set.
We even had a Monty solo before blasting into Melody Lee then Plan 9 Channel 7 and more of the free forming with Looking At You which just about covered ‘Machine Gun Etiqutte’ (for now). The Damned did teach the punk fraternity that there was more than three chords available and I was watching the bassist during Disco Man and lost count of the notes played in the riffs, astounding!
‘Chavs are a bucket of turds.’ Shouted the Captain having explained he’d noticed that Wrexham is full of them and they ripped into Would You Be So Hot (their tribute to John Lennon – not!) then still keeping to the latest album, the haunting Absinthe. With Eloise played like it should’ve been in the first place it left enough time to pay tribute to those that have gone before us and Neat Neat Neat was dedicated to John Peel, Joe Strummer and The Ramones.
The encore brought a great treat for Damned fans with Jet Boy Jet Girl, a track I’ve not heard live before, followed by New Rose and the ultimate Smash It Up where a net was thrown over the sprawling crowd, and a punter was invited up to play the last couple of riffs.
Something’s not quite right. It’s the day after Pigstock, its mid-afternoon and I don’t have a hangover. And yet I drank enough to sink a small ship; kept up with Andy Fatman pint for pint and picked him off the floor on numerous occasions! Funny old thing alcohol – you can have two pints and feel quite giddy or have thirteen and feel, well, yes pissed, but in control (almost!). I think the trick was to cart along the Crudlets and Fatman’s sprog for the afternoon, therefore instilling a sense of responsibility into the proceedings and not go hell for leather for the gutter before the evening!
Waking up at 11.20am meant there was no way we’d get there to see the opening set by Melaphobia and ‘the d word’ (Der Bomber) were obviously not on the bill and were replaced by some wedding band from Ruthin I think.
Someone from the band Jacknife Juggernauts asked me this morning what my thoughts on the day as a whole were. My reply was, ‘Great day, shit music.’
If you’re gonna spend £12 to see some bang up to date and up ‘n’ coming bands from the local area then your money would be better spent elsewhere. If you’re gonna spend £12 to chill out in a friendly atmosphere and have a great day out and catch the occasional snatch of brilliance from the stage then this the place for you.
The music (if you’ve been kept in a dark shed for two months and fed bullshit) has been a bone of contention since the line up was announced, and for some great entertainment pay my Message Board a visit and start at the thread titled ‘Absolute Fucking Travesty’ – it’s an excellent read that has spawned great publicity for both Pigstock and ‘the d word’.
Someone did mention that the bongo player in a blue shirt (who is actually Chris Godfrey) had been on stage three times in 3 different bands and wouldn’t it have been better to have put on some local talent instead mates and their jazzy jams. I agreed but did point out that this wasn’t a cutting edge festival, it was a cutting hedge one!
But let’s face some facts here and make a few points. If you’re the organiser of Pigstock you have to look at the point that this is in Denbigh and if you put on a load of bands making waves on the coast then they’re going to bring crowds with them. You have to weigh up the possibility that some could get drunk and will play up a bit. Denbigh people are all for having a bit of a laugh and a joke – amongst themselves. When some upstarts turn up and start laughing at them or treading on toes then things could turn ugly. Yes, it’d be a great day for music but it would probably be the last ever Pigstock! Although it would’ve been nice to have seen at least a couple of today’s performers replaced by the likes of Khagool, Gintis, Lantern, David Wrench, The Alarm, Crave or (god forbid!) Der Bomber.
The Holloh provided the afternoon’s first foray into what readers of this website would describe as good, with some fast driving indie rock with a punk edge – or so the NME would say. They played a great version of Johnny B Goode in a Sex Pistols stylee which introduced the first casualty of the day when a sole headbanger (with no hair) got up to rub his denim and play his air guitar.
The Giro Gypsies received the loudest cheer of the afternoon with their colourful animated line up and progged out sound – great guitar solo at the end by Stewart – check out their profile on the North section of my site.
We also had MK Ultra, Y Moniars, Sarah Davies, Cosmic Charlies, Geth & The Celebrities, Zoot Serious, Mid Life Crisis, who are all good at what they do. It was there to provide a background to a glorious day, obviously not my bag at all but they served the purpose of keeping the proles happy.
Duncan Black (main pic) provided my highlight of the day with a brief but exquisite display of guitar genius, and let’s face it, there was some stiff competition in the guitar hero category provided by Mid Life Crisis, Cosmic Charlies and the Giros. But Duncan took it to a different level up there on his own with an array of pedals and coming across like a mute Nick Harper crossed with Ed Alleyn-Johnson, two artists who you should most definitely make yourselves familiar with. Coming on just after 9pm he was backed by a light show, lots of smoke and the opportunity to perform in front of a big crowd. Duncan later explained to the organisers that he was used to playing in front of strange goths and headbangers who would throw things at him for not being metal enough!
Check out his album ‘Ubiquitous Guitar Mercenary’ out now.
We missed the fireworks display and the following bands as I had to save Andy Fatman’s liver.
A slice of Newport's musical heritage got official recognition last month with the unveiling of a plaque commemorating the late Clash frontman, Joe Strummer. He two years in the city, forming friendships with local groups and art students, and forming his own band The Vultures. The plaque hangs at 12 Pentonville, Newport, where he lived in 1974, composed and his first songs and learning to play guitar. Just three years later, The Clash were on their way to world-wide fame.
Richard Frame, Corporate Director of Newport's single homeless project Solas, lived with the young Strummer—then known to locals as 'Woody'—in the flat: "we used to hang out in the Messenger pub in town. Joe used to spend lots of time with the local art college students and in no time he was fronting local band The Vultures.
"This is where he started in music, and he has talked about his time in Newport a lot, since. Before he died, he'd pop back into town for a drink whenever he was in the area—and one of his last ever gigs was at Newport TJ's."
The circular plaque reads "Joe Strummer lived here in 1974." It was unveiled by Joe's widow, Lucinda Mellor on Friday 20 July. Mrs Mellor's Westcountry-based music charity for young people, Strummerville, will hopefully be teaming up with members of Solas's own music project on future ventures. In the meantime, a CD containing a previously unheard demo of Joe's band recorded in the Newport bedsit in 1974 is to be released on CD by Solas later in the year.
Justin Skinflick, writing in 2025 says; This album was a beast to write and finish, originally started around 1998 under the name of 'Into the Flames'. The concept was of a man so disconnected from humanity he craved the insect world of the hive. After many restructures and rewrites it was eventually finished in 2005. As well as the original album the CD came with a remix CD entitled 'The Maggot Circle' featuring mixes from many talented musicians.
It's a heavy, dark and disturbing album, featuring some stellar work by Duncan Black on guitars and also banjo. Other vocals by Rhian Mostyn, Rhian Davies and Jackie Kennedy.
I can't remember the name of the artist who did the cover and sleeve work but he did an absolutely amazing job. (If you have a copy please let me know his name)
Anglesey band play three shows at inaugural EEMC event. James McLaren reports
[transcript from Sound Nation Magazine - Aug 2005]
ANGLESEY ROCKERS** INFERNO became the first Welsh band to attend the Eastern European Music Conference (EEMC) in June, which was held in St Petersburg, Russia. The event was designed to be an Eastern version of the famed South By South West festival in Austin, Texas and as such had a combination of live, unsigned bands, business needs and seminars.
Inferno’s manager, Jimmy Lee, told Sound Nation about their trip into the unknown. "The trip to EEMC was several months in the planning. A musician friend of mine who works at an agency who loves the band suggested I have a look at the EEMC web site. He also suggested I speak to a guy who works with in the Welsh Assembly who assisted with export businesses.
"I e-mailed EEMC and sent them some info on Inferno etc. Apparently they wanted us pretty badly to get over there. Costs were sorted with the Assembly and off we went."
It was far from plain sailing for the Inferno crew, however. The first event of this kind in Eastern Europe was never going to run completely smoothly, and technical hitches from lost equipment at the airport ("we were at St Petersburg airport but four guitars, snare, cymbals and pedals were still in Paris!") to decrepit PAs in the venues were standard for the trip.
Inferno played three shows at EEMC, and went down very well according to Lee. "Following their gigs the lads roved all round the conference, visiting the stalls and speaking to many of the participants. They were spotted by a gang of teenagers who wanted autographs, pictures and CDs. Inferno loved the entire experience from start to end including the blips! They are richer for the experience and can't wait for their next European tour. We plan to do SXSW in March 2006 and have started on the venture already."
[originally published yn Cymraeg (in Welsh) in Soundnation zine March 2005]
I was reminded again this week of the state of our music scene. I was chatting to a friend who grew up in Wales about the creative situation. He said that he enjoys listening to different or new bands, but that he feels it’s too often the same possibilities over and over again.
This reminded me of one question that keeps popping up – why does the Welsh scene keep recycling the same names? Are Super Furry Animals really the only Welsh-language band, in the same way that Coldplay or Green Day are seen as the only English-language bands that ever get played on the radio?
Maybe it’s because of the “debut album” idea – well, there’s a rather unhealthy path of opinion in our culture that gives priority to Welsh-language albums. We’re still too obsessed with an album as a statement, instead of recognising an acoustic / electronic mix as a valid creative expression. It’s taken a long time for DJs on HWFM to let go of old habits – we still remember that!
The second album has to prove it’s been created organically / honestly, and it has to be Welsh in the “proper” way according to Tecwyn Ifan. It has to be from Y Dyl Mei or Sain to be taken seriously / to be supported. It’s taken a long time for this “hen steil” (old style) mentality to let go – the idea that an album must be recorded “properly”.
Now that Noson Lawen shite has moved forward with Sain. I wonder about the albums being released today: do they really reflect the society we live in, or are they just repeating the same old ideas because no one dares to believe the public might be ready for something new?
There are 11 tracks on the record, but I don’t care how many tracks have been recorded – how cool is that? – it’s a pity that more emphasis is still placed on the number of songs on a disc than on whether the songs actually belong on the album.
Final point – when will we see an album here that truly has style?
This article taken from Sound Nation magazine #16 (November 2004) written by James McLaren. (Both zine and James are sadly no longer with us)
In North West Wales there are two main outlets for Welsh product: Cob Records in Bangor and Porthmadog. James McLaren talks to their managers about their unique selling points
Two record shops, linked by name and history, one in Bangor, one in Porthmadog, will be familiar to anyone who lives in North West Wales and anyone who has ever visited the area on holiday or business. The Porthmadog shop, especially, has developed an international reputation as one of the most comprehensive dealers of secondhand records in the UK, mostly through the history of its mail order service.
PORTHMADOG
Set up in 1967, this flagship store began by simply selling ex-jukebox singles, but quickly developed into a purveyor of secondhand, deleted, and new stock. They then hit on a novel idea: selling off dead stock from major labels, and purchasing back boxes of dead stock from other small shops. They hit on a novel idea, selling off dead stock from major labels and purchasing back boxes of dead stock from other small shops, and buying in huge quantities of deleted vinyl from around the world. Their reputation for rare and unusual items grew, and the mail order side of the business exploded.
One year after opening, they had enough secondhand stock to enter the world of mail-orders. In those days, a simple advert in the New Musical Express or Melody Maker could generate a lot more sales and a lot more international trade than a lot of markets international-ly, and Cob were able to capitalize on this.
Within four years of starting, they were mailing 7500 records a week to 25,000 customers from all over the world, and employing 20 staff to manage the demand.
The mail order service saw a peak in its existence where turning over £60,000 per annum, through that mail order service, about $420,000 was export sales.
“I remember we sent three orders of thousands of pound value each to a seaside souvenir shop in Port Stanley for the troops during the Falklands War,” says the store’s manager, Tony Hughes. “Although the Soviets saw a boom for the area in business, the internationalisation of releases and various other factors have meant that the mail order business, although still a substantial part of Cob Bangor’s operation, at Cob Porthmadog over the years.”
“We also suffered the effects of the conflict in the former Yugoslavia where we had some 5,000 regular buyers and export market was severely affected by the UK joining the EC with us having to abide by new customs regulations also the strength of the pound against other world currencies did us no favours. Consequently, our sales and have diminished substantially, but we still have a strong mail-order business within the UK shipping about 80,000 CDs annual-ly.”
So there’s been a necessary shift into in-shop stock, but Cob Porthmadog is ideally placed to capitalize on its strong customer loyalty and its position in one of Wales’s best hotspots.
“We are fortunate to have built up a huge and invaluable range of customers,” says Tony. “We advertise materials for the mail order for peoples’ unwanted CDs, LPs, DVDs, and videos, and we always have in stock around 200 second hand CDs, 3,000 LPs, 4,500 cassettes, 10,000 videos and a few hundred DVDs.
“Porthmadog, not being a large town, doesn’t allow us the luxury of being able to stock a vast amount of brand new stock, but we do carry some 2,000 new CDs, LPs, few 7”s, cassettes, DVDs, and videos; but whatever we don’t have can be ordered and obtained within a day or two.”
On a local level, Cob Porthmadog stocks records from Welsh bands and labels, “only on a sale or return basis. We do as much as possible to help local bands because if either Cob or not give them support they have virtually no other outlets in Gwynedd to introduce their material.”
BANGOR
Owen Hughes, manager of Cob Bangor, was in the late-seventies, a religious customer of the Porthmadog shop, while working for local government in the fire service up to September 1979. He opened the second shop in partnership with the Porthmadog firm, with a different remit and emphasis, dictated by the social make-up of the university town.
“We opened in the same week as This World by Pink Floyd was No.1,” says Owen. “Our mail-order was a different kettle of fish altogether – so we had two good sellers in the first six months, then two years of down. Bangor is, we’ve always done it on that basis, a small town, so local people here demand more new stock and we emphasize new releases and the current side of things. The Porthmadog store does mostly secondhand.”
Starting on three storeys and moving to a two-storey format since the Bangor store has averaged a far lower turnover since its founding. “All in all it’s about the money as far as selling goes,” says Hughes, “but just a different shape.”
“In the last 25 years, Hughes has noticed a lot of changes in the music scene and its impact on the stock that his shop carries. “The way we used to keep all the CD taking over from what was almost exclusively vinyl, with a lot of second hand DVDs now coming in on a pace too, which is a recent development. The era of the importance of the single too, as far as we’re concerned, those things have never been that big on singles, it’s definitely taken a dive in recent years.”
Has Hughes been affected by the media hype about illegal downloads on new music sales? “Yes, but it’s hard to put them exactly. It’s inevitably going to have some impact, but it’s maybe not as bad as a lot of people think. Some people as we’re never really concentrated on sales and all that, but do fill in things which fit in with the back-catalogue stock we’re doing anyway.”
“Owen’s own interests dictate a lot of the shop’s general stock. We stock a wide, but it’s unusual in being able to cater for lots of different kinds of things, because that’s where my real interest is I suppose. We have a lot of classical, blues, jazz, country, gospel and a lot of world music.
“We do a lot of back-catalogue rock and indie - it’s a university town so that’s very important to us. And the Welsh stuff as well.
“Bangor is a good print, because although it has students, the Welsh population is a transient student one, as the Welsh-speaking population is more of an established, local community. We know there are others doing quite well for themselves in the area, and the wider Welsh-language music scene does well. We have made an effort to stock the Welsh titles, and it’s something we’re happy to stock. It’s still proving important to the older customers, to a supposed golden age in the eighties, but we deal with Sain, Ankst and so on, plus the stuff which comes through other smaller distributors. We do sale or return for local bands and that’s fine. We support it, and it’s been there's a fair bit which doesn’t do well, but a lot of it which do well too.
“It’s important for us to support the local scene to make sure they can access us through sale or return, so the bands that can get their stock on the shelves. We have a free noticeboard in the shop where people can put items for sale or advertise for free. We’ve found drivers for whoever it is they're looking for. We encourage that for sure. The area is a good mix of community, and the different part of the community that we’re trying to be incredibly cool or anything.”
When I was seventeen I used to make the nightly pilgrimage from my tiny flat on Bath Street to The Bistro in Rhyl. Every night except Tuesday, because even scenes need a day off apparently. It was a punk and alternative hangout without any bands to speak of. No live music, no stage, no grand ambition. Just a jukebox, cheap pints and a cluster of teenagers determined to make one drink last an entire evening. Pete Bethel supplied the soundtrack, spinning indie and alternative records while we danced, loitered and generally treated the place like a second home.
Eventually, someone with a calculator realised the flaw in the business model: staffing a venue all week for twenty punks sharing a single pint between them wasn’t exactly a path to financial glory. Midweek doors closed. The weekend survived. And that little chapter quietly slipped into memory.
In the years that followed, dance music swept through town and flattened what little guitar scene existed. For a while it felt like bands had simply vanished. There were flickers of life here and there — a few names, a few sparks — but nothing that really caught and spread. Without money or momentum, any sense of unity fizzled out as quickly as it appeared.
Then something shifted. The Breeding Ground arrived and suddenly the pieces started falling into place. Young bands who’d been hidden away in pub backrooms found themselves with a proper stage, a real PA, lighting, and — most importantly — an audience that had come specifically to watch live music. Those audiences didn’t just watch; they picked up instruments themselves. One wave fed the next. Add in support from nearby scenes and a growing sense of connection across North Wales, and for the first time in years it felt like something genuine was forming.
Gigs filled up. Some even sold out. Bands from outside the area started coming to play and, crucially, coming back. It felt like momentum — the kind that makes you think it might actually last.
Of course, nothing that good ever lasts forever. The Breeding Ground fell victim to the familiar logic of local bureaucracy: teenagers gathering unsupervised on the street was acceptable, but gathering safely inside a venue was not. Before long it was gone. The building itself eventually disappeared too, but its reputation didn’t. Like The Bistro before it, it passed into local folklore.
The gap it left didn’t stay empty for long. A new chapter began when gigs started popping up at Bar Blu. The idea of regular midweek shows in Rhyl — in a venue better known as a trendy nightspot — raised more than a few eyebrows. But against the odds, it worked. Wednesday nights became the new Friday. Week after week the place filled up, proving that the appetite for live music hadn’t gone anywhere after all.
Then came the next leap of faith: a new venue, The Metro, a new night, and an even bigger question mark. A Monday night launch in Rhyl, in the middle of a damp October. Optimism or madness, depending on who you asked.
The venue itself had everything going for it: good sound, decent size, plenty of space, even a slightly seedy charm courtesy of a lap-dancing bar upstairs. On paper, it ticked every box. But the real challenge was never the venue. It was the audience.
Because Rhyl is still a small town. And no matter how enthusiastic the scene becomes, no matter how many bands emerge or venues open their doors, there’s a simple economic truth that never changes: people can only go out so many nights a week. At some point, the calendar fills up, wallets empty out, and something has to give.
There’s a saturation point for everything. And in a town this size, once a week might just be the limit.
We were crammed into a taxi in a buoyant mood, halftime on the radio and Wales somehow holding their own against Poland. My phone rang out I Believe in a Thing Called Love — yes, the Darkness ringtone, yes it was cheesy, and no, I still couldn’t be bothered to change it. It was Carl Gintis, asking if we were heading to Bar Blu. Of course we were. He’d hyped Micrographia so relentlessly on my message board that not going would’ve felt like being caught miles offside. He also wanted to know if I’d enjoyed the “lament” they’d recorded for me at 2:20am the previous Sunday. I’d woken up to a two-minute answerphone epic titled Apple Pie, which I’d mistakenly credited to a mate winding me up because I’d skipped the Dudley the night before. Turns out it was a private rendition of a brand-new Gintis song. Karma balanced itself later when Carl went home thirteen pints deep and managed to christen his own carpet.
Alcohol, as usual, set the tone. Sync and I were steadily working through pints of the golden stuff, while Gwynn and a mysterious friend lurched upright to drunkenly strum a few songs. I contributed my standard heckles — “show us yer tits” and “fuck off you hippies” — and was pleasantly surprised to get a hearty “fuck off” in return. Fair’s fair.
Meanwhile, Wales did what Wales do: 1–0 up, then 3–2 down. We celebrated the goal with a pint and mourned the collapse with six or seven more.
The Circuits were meant to play, but apparently flipped open the Rock ’n’ Roll Guide to Non-Appearance Excuses and landed on the classic: “Our drummer choked on a wasp and is in hospital.” Conveniently, they didn’t show.
The crowd at Blu has shifted since the ill-fated Jives Room gig. People vote with their feet, and tonight most had chosen to stay home. The newer crowd felt more “night out” than “night for music.” About seventy people were in — quiet for Blu — and soon sixty-nine when Sync admitted defeat and staggered home, leaving me to face the band from Bangor alone.
Trying to pin down Micrographia is tricky. Imagine Flotation Toy Warning without the singer, add a handful of seasonal magic mushrooms from an Old Colwyn golf course, and take cover. That’s roughly the vibe. While their peers churn out paint-by-numbers punk, this very young band seemed to have lifted the effects tracks from a Hawkwind record and turned them into a live set. No drummer — just a surprisingly great backing track — which is high praise from someone who usually loathes drum machines. Thirty minutes flew by, a canoe ride through liquid mercury: repetitive but addictive bass lines threading between two wildly different guitars. Ridiculous metaphor, I know, but somehow it fit.
I asked the promoter what their demo sounded like. There wasn’t one. He’d booked them purely on Carl Gintis’s enthusiasm. Brave move. Worth it.
You can sit through endless nights of bands serving up the same lifeless indie-punk mush, originality as thin as a makeup advert. But every now and then, you stumble onto something like Micrographia — and suddenly all those pints and all those dull support slots feel justified.
{Adam Walton wrote his "Ear Buzz" column for the Daily Post starting in the late 1990s and continuing into the 2000s. The column was a weekly feature that primarily covered local music topics and the underground scene in Wales.}
An emergency of almost cataclysmic proportions rocked the world of underground Welsh err rock this week: Neil Crud, one-time sporter of Rhyl’s finest Mohican; errant gob and snot for 4Q, North Wales’ Crass Pistols; 'editor' of the most obscene publication that ever littered its way out of the locale (Crud fanzine – ask your parents), an ex-Son of Selina, former manager of Pocket Venus, and currently a worm farmer who almost accidentally deleted half of his website, link2wales.co.uk; an internet encyclopedia of whoever has been who, and whatever has been what, in the Welsh music scene.
I’ve always wondered what Crud meant – now I know it’s an acronym for Computer Retard Undoes Database!
Computers might be a panacea for people, like me, who have no real friends, and find it much easier to strike up a relationship with coloured pixels jumbled up in provocative poses; but for those doing mission critical work, the computer’s still-too-frequent predilection for vacating your to forget to back up your hard work, and then giving you the blue screen of death, is a cause of great stress and sleeplessness.
Whaddya mean, “big deal”? For many hundreds of rabid musicians who had the misfortune to be creating music in Wales before the lifting of the Leek Curtain in the mid-90s, link2wales is the only way we will be preserved for posterity; especially if my home lab experiments into cryogenic suspension continue to be such an unmitigated failure.
Failure is this way because many of the bands were original and excellent, just naive in the way that they tried to attract attention; and 2) the stories of failure should prove to be excellent inspiration and educational material for the current crop of excellent bands visible up the area.
There’s no excuse for making the same mistakes we did, when those mistakes are so excellently chronicled online.
But link2wales.co.uk is most important as a place where these sore heads can meet and – hopefully – begin to tell their own, more positive and friendly stories.
Such is the communal genius of link2wales that the site actively encourages those with any pertinent information about Welsh bands to contribute.
Were you, for example, the bass player in Smiley Headstock, Mold’s short-lived answer to the Happy Mondays, playing Shamans tunes through cheap, Casio keyboards?
Do you have any amusing anecdotes about the time you saw Mike Peters' first band, The Toilets, in some rubbish pub on the coast, and turned to your mates and said, “You know, one day this lot’ll end up touring America with Bob Dylan,” to the general amusement of anyone within earshot.
Then, do not delay, but dust keyboard, get your memories preserved in ASCII before they rest into oblivion, and e-mail neilcrud@gmail.com, thus enriching what is already the richest and most irreverent resource on our beautiful musical pasts, presents and futures.
Let’s just hope his pun-addled brain remembers to back the bloody thing up this time!
"The North South Divine" was a compilation album released by FF Vinyl (although not on vinyl, only CD) and served as a sonic battleground and a bridge, capturing the energetic diversity of the UK's underground music at the time of its 2004 release. True to its title, the compilation aimed to highlight a musical and cultural dialogue, showcasing bands that were often divided by the media's focus on London-centric scenes versus the potent output from north of the Watford Gap.
With 12 tracks, this collection is genre-fluid journey, blending the raw post-punk edge and earnest indie-pop hooks characteristic of the era. These are not the chart-toppers, but the hard-working acts generating genuine buzz on the club and festival circuit. It functions today as an authentic time capsule, a valuable document that illustrates the geographic spread and stylistic depth of British alternative music before the internet fully flattened local music economies. For anyone interested in the bands that were on the cusp of breaking through in the mid-2000s, The North South Divine is an essential, if rare, listen.
There's no online copy available so I've linked some of the tracks I've found on YouTube.
