The Top 14 and a half best albums from Wales

Having previously given us extensive lists on Scottish post-punk bands who saved the world, Australian bands who didn't stink like a decomposing wallaby, and of course 10 Irish Bands who didn’t want to be U2, The Corrs, Boyzone, Westlife et al, our resident jetsetter Craig Stephen now heads deep into the dark valleys of Wales to turn his attention to the best albums from artists in that part of the world:

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Ah, Wales: Shirley and Tom and Bryn and Katherine, magnificent voices born of choirs and coal mining.

There’s a certain charm about the Welsh language on record, and though the bulk of albums recorded in Cardiff, Swansea et al have been in English, we have enough examples in the list to keep Max Boyce happy.

Alas, there’s no Bonnie Tyler. 

Super Furry Animals: Radiator (1997) 

The Furries had a gift for catchy yet complex melodic hooks and in the 1990s they were both part of an accessible indie sound, and yet remained detached from the populist post-Britpop scene. The occasional Welsh-language song, the devotion to drug crim Howard Marks, a languid vocal style and clear influences of prog, punk and even the use of techno - this band was clearly on the outer. 

Radiator is an impressive kaleidoscope of sounds, with songs reeking of melody: they borrow from 60s pop but that’s just a fraction of the story. ‘The International Language of Screaming’ and ‘Hermann Loves Pauline’ were loud, fast and eccentric. They shouted the band’s intentions, and I was listening intently.

Manic Street Preachers: Gold Against the Soul (1993) 

For this writer the choice of Manics’ album wasn’t the confrontational bombast of the debut Generation Terrorists, nor the subsequent million-sellers Everything Must Go and This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours. 

While those have everything the band were good at, Gold Against the Soul was the step forward the Manics needed to make to become the band that they became. Pretending to be both The Clash and Guns’N Roses was never going to sustain a career, after all.

Gold contains by far their most rockist singles – ‘From Despair To Where’, ‘La Tristesse Durera’ and ‘Life Becoming A Landslide’. It signalled a move away from bristling teenage arrogance to a bleaker outlook. 

Tom Jones: Talk of the Town (1967) 

You want a superstar? Here’s Cymru’s own. When I obtained this in an op shop in the 90s in Hull, Jones was a faded and jaded legend, so this record was cheap and cheerful and in great condition. And it was brilliant. 

Jones is a live great, and the stage brings out his best as he does inimitable takes on ‘What’s New Pussycat?’, ‘Thunderball’ and ‘It’s Not Unusual’. From the sound of the crowd’s respectful but enthralled reaction (at what was/is The Hippodrome) I’d guess there wasn’t too much underwear landing on stage. 

Gwenno: Y Dydd Olaf (2015) 

Taking its title and subject from a 1950s Welsh language sci-fi novel by Owain Owain, Gwenno uses that book’s themes of working class oppression to mirror the flaws of contemporary society, as well as the plight of her mother tongue.

On its initial, limited release a year earlier, Y Dydd Olaf barely raised an eyebrow. Perhaps few people could believe that a member of what was essentially a girl pop band, The Pipettes, could record an entire album in a Celtic language (with one track being in Cornish for added credibility) and with such grace and ingenuity. 

Anhrefn: Soft Lights and Loud Guitars (1989)

This is the half album, a split record with English punk band Last Rough Cause on the other side.

Anhrefn’s six contributions include an eccentric and excellent version of the Ruts’ ‘Staring at the Rude Boys’, retitled ‘Edrych Ar Y Rude Boys’ and translated into Welsh, and the manic ‘Bach Dy Ben’ (Rock Against The Rich). The Welsh-language punk act were part of Joe Strummer’s infamous Rock Against the Rich tour in 1988 which has previously been covered in detail on this site.

John Cale: Fear (1974) 

Despite his role in the very American underground act, the Velvet Underground, John Davies Cale was born in the Amman Valley to a coal miner and a Welsh language school teacher.

Post-Velvets Cale released three albums during 1974 and 1975, this being the middle, and strongest, of that trilogy. Fear, which features Brian Eno and Phil Manzanera, was a dense and jagged rock album that pointed the way towards punk.

‘Fear Is A Man's Best Friend’, and the eight-minute ‘Gun’ were among the go-to tracks but few would have resisted a snigger at a track entitled ‘The Man Who Couldn’t Afford to Orgy’. Fear brought Cale back to being a British artist. And an influential one too.

Gruff Rhys: Hotel Shampoo (2011) 

It’s not easy picking a single Rhys solo album, so I’m going to select this on the basis that it features a series of small hotel shampoo bottles the singer pilfered from his room. 

We have slow jazz and funk on ‘Patterns Of Power’, and the Beatles at the beach in ‘Honey All Over’, and a series of glorious hooks that take the Super Furry Animals to a Brazilian carnival. 

Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci: Spanish Dance Troupe (1999)

Gorky's sixth album fused psychedelia, country, and 70s pop, revealing how detached they were from the 1990s mainstream music scene. Yes, even more so than the Super Furry Animals. But that was also the case with acts like Topper and Big Leaves. None of these acts cared about Catatonia. 

The wistful instruments on tracks like ‘Don't You Worry’ and ‘She Lives on a Mountain’ are inspired by traditional folk songs and vaudeville tunes. Acoustic interludes are scattered throughout but the standout ‘Poodle Rockin’ is full of noisy guitars and smooth harmonies.

Howl Griff: The Hum (2010)

Little is known about this quartet but they did release three albums between 2008 and 2012, of which the self-titled debut was entirely in Welsh. 

The Hum is the best of those, with ‘Crash and Burn’ a cosmic outpouring of twee pop, sharing a sense of the surreal with The Coral. And, like those scousers, Howl Griff tell stories of characters, such as a lady who “can help you in the dark of night and improve your memory.” Meanwhile, on ‘Uduhudu’, spirits are raised from the dead in a spangly, manic and effervescent shanty. Glorious, bonkers stuff only the British can do, and the Welsh do best.

Young Marble Giants: Colossal Youth (1980) 

The term "less is more" might have been coined for Colossal Youth, the sole contribution by Cardiff three-piece Young Marble Giants. Released at a time when sharp, inverted guitars were de rigeur, it adheres to a minimalistic ideal of sound and attitude. 

Colossal Youth was quickly lumbered in with post-punk, a broad brush that included quirky acts like The Native Hipster who subjected listeners to beautiful minimalism that were the apposite to the abrasiveness of the Gang of Four or PiL. It was both inventive and retro with a pastoral feel. Kurt Cobain was a fan.

Meilyr Jones: 2013 (2016) 

Jones seemed to appear from nowhere for this collection of energetic tracks which narrate the writer’s daily observations and musings on life. It begins with the jubilant ‘How To Recognise A Work Of Art’ and drew on the humour of The Divine Comedy and the slanted views on life of Morrissey.

2013 was full of high-brow references, from Byron to architecture, but with sing-along choruses and musical quirks. Now, about that follow-up album …

Cate Le Bon: Cyrk (2012) 

Sort-of-folkie Cate Le Bon (no relation to Simon it must be assumed), came from left field, much like Meilyr Jones did. She had released an album before, which was barely noticed even in Abergavenny, but Cyrk with its 1969-71 prog-folk-pop outlook, was more playful and irreverent.

She’s released a few albums since, all quite superb, but there’s something mystical and magical about Cyrk that I am happy to keep returning to.

Neon Neon: Praxis Makes Perfect (2013) 

Here’s that man Gruff Rhys again, this time in tow with an artist called Boom Bip and as Neon Neon they delivered another album-biopic by dedicating this to the life of Giangiacomo Feltrinelli, who was both wealthy and political, to the tune of late 80s synth pop.

I actually think Neon Neon’s first album, Stainless Style, which was inspired by automaker John DeLorean, is superior musically, but Praxis Makes Perfect is a more coherent album, and still strangely rewarding in its own way. And besides, you have to tip your hat to an act that creates an entire album around someone few in the UK or any English-speaking language would be familiar with.

Super Furry Animals: Mwng (2000)

Two albums by the Furries, plus two solo efforts by Gruff Rhys. Hmmm, you’d think there was a trend here. And you’re right, but some biases are healthy, and Rhys and co are among the most talented folk to come out of Cymru.

On Mwng (pron: Moong) the Animals rejected their adopted language for a work sung entirely in Welsh. The result is a charming batch of stripped-down rock songs that isn't as inventive as the previous year's Guerrilla, but still makes for a damned enjoyable listen.

Alun Gaffey: self-titled (2016) 

Alun Gaffey’s first, and so far, only solo album is a curious work of pop, electro and Tom Jones’ B-sides.

‘Palutyllau’ introduces the listener to Gaffey’s influences: 70s funk and soul. ‘Yr Arfon’ pounds with early 80s hip hop beats, and new romantic excitement. Sandwiched inbetween those is a track about dinosaurs (either in the literal or the metaphorical sense) ‘Deinasoriaid’. What’s not to like?

Your Flexible Friend: flexi-disks and their curious history

Craig Stephen takes a look at the life and times of the flexi-disk, and his own connection with the format …

They sometimes require gold coins to be placed on top for them in order to play; they’re flimsy and easily lost, and have been used for selling things like sugar-laden cereals or big macs. But there’s a certain charm about flexi-disks, a format that was used from the mighty to the obscure of pop music for more than a decade. 

My own modest collection of flexis contains wonderfully rare material by bands of the British indie scene of the mid to late 80s, and early 90s, from bands that did little to nothing else, to bands that became involved in the various ‘scenes’ of the time.

Totem among these releases is a flexi by the Manic Street Preachers, issued in 1990, shortly after their first single was given away with the Hopelessly Devoted fanzine, which presumably ended up in my recycling bin, reducing its value somewhat. The Manics contributed ‘UK Channel Boredom’ which, if the disk was of reasonable quality (and didn’t require three coins to prevent it from bubbling), would be a rather excellent example of the punk metal they were purveying at the time. 

It was a split single-sided disk with a band called The Laurens, very much the yang to the Manics’ ying, who contributed the pleasantly melodic ‘I Don’t Know What the Trouble Is’.  It’s fair to say that the Laurens’ effort hasn’t led to the disk being sold online for what can only be described as ludicrous amounts.

I also have a flexi by The Cult: ‘Wild Flower’ new mix, which came free in 1987 with the now defunct Record Mirror, a publication that regularly gave away impressive 7-inch singles. The back of this flexi contains suggestions of what you cannot do with it: “Get BBC2 on it”; “Use it as a makeshift shoehorn”; and “Pass it off as a £50 note”. But it does suggest you could use it to “make two into a pair of emergency binoculars”, and “use several to design a fancy dress outfit entitled “liquorice allsort” … thankfully, I ignored all such valid advice and still have it today.

We’ll have more from the collection later. 

A history lesson (of sorts) 

The first flexis  or “talking postcards” were intended to be personal. The user recorded a message onto phonograph grooves imprinted in resin-covered postcard then mail it to a friend to play on a turntable.

In the early 20th century the flexi became an alternative to the heavy and brittle 78. In the 1930s, the Durium company used their acetate in creating popular cardboard records - the ‘Hit of the Week’ series - that sold for only a few nickels at American newsstands.

When the post-World War II boom lead to a recording boom, flexis entered into a second golden age, with the focus more on promotion.

The most renowned use was on cereal boxes – the first known use of this was on the side of a Wheaties cereal box in the 1950s and these continued to be produced through the 1980s in the US. They were made using a special laminate that could be secured to cereal cartons. It’s a mass, captive market, after all. 

The peak of the flexi was when The Beatles sent out hundreds of thousands of  special  Christmas disks  to their fan clubs.

In 1973, the NME gave away an exclusive Alice Cooper track, a take on Elvis Presley’s ‘Slick Black Limousine’. On the flip side were four snippets from his forthcoming Billion Dollar Babies album, so not surprisingly this soon became a prized item amongst Cooper fans. 

ABBA were also prone to the odd exclusive freebie; their ABBA/Live 77 was a one-sided gold-coloured flexi that featured clips from that year's Australian tour. It was intended to be only available as a gift for kids selling books, papers, and magazines door-to-door at Christmas for the Jultidningsförlaget publishing corporation.

Perhaps the biggest flexi-disk giveaway was when McDonalds’s had 80 million flexis done featuring a version of the chain’s ‘menu song’. Only one record had the song in its entirety, and whoever got that won US$1 million.

A magazine dedicated entirely to the humble flexi-disk appeared in 1980 in Britain. Called  Flexipop  it was billed as “the world’s first singing magazine” and each issue contained an exclusive track from a major chart act. The list of artists contributing was extensive – The Jam, Soft Cell, Madness, The Associates, Blondie, The Cure, Depeche Mode and Genesis. Despite the range of stars and the sometimes curious and exclusive tracks they contributed, Flexipop only lasted until 1983.

So far, so Western capitalism, but in the Soviet Union, until it’s break-up, the flexi-disk played an unlikely role in subterfuge. During the 70s and 80s, when much Western rock was still banned, bootleggers and fans illegally pressed pirated tracks on to hospital X-ray film. Eventually the authorities twigged that excuses used by teenagers that the sheets were for "my uncle’s knee X-ray" were nonsense. 

Revival? 

As with vinyl in the 1990s and 2000s, flexi-disks suffered from the move to CDs, and pretty much became obsolete. 

But does that mean that flexi-disks are piggy-backing on the current love of vinyl? If there is it’s not something I’ve noticed. 

The California-based Pirates Press, which specialises mainly in punk and Oi! began producing flexi-disks in 2010 and claims to be the only producer in the world. Jack White’s Third Man Records hired them to produce 1,000 postcard records …“playable full colour postcards with grooves stamped in the glossy finish”.

For Record Store Day in 2019, second wave punk band Crass re-released ‘Do They Owe Us A Living?’ (a 1977 live version and another live version from 30 years later) on the format. 

There are more examples of flexi-disk releases, either on their own, or given away with albums, from the past five years, particularly on Record Store Day, but not enough to suggest some form of revival.

And back to the box in the spare room

This writers’ collection of flexi-disks (which given their thinness don’t take up much space) also includes such gems as Baby Lemonade’s ‘Jiffy Neckwear Creation’ backed by ‘The Bachelor Pad’ (on a 6 ½-inch disk) with the admirable advice “not suitable for deep frying”. 

This was part of a release of twee flexis by the same Glasgow label (Sha-La-La) that included The Clouds’ ‘Jenny Nowhere’ backed by Mighty Mighty’s ‘Throwaway’ (Throwaway version), both of which were fine examples of mid-80s jangly pop. 

Delving deeper into tweedom was a three-track flexi that came with the Shoot the Tulips fanzine and was led by the Pale Saints, whose track ‘Children Break’ was the first thing they ever did, and a world away from the shoegazing sound that they developed and became renowned for. 

The Savlons and the folky Kerry Fiddles were also involved in this, the one and only contribution to music both acts ever gave the world.

The Senseless Things contributed three tracks to one flexi-disk, at the time having had only one single behind them with far more to come over the next decade.

Chapterhouse contributed ‘Losing Touch With My Mind’/‘It Won’t Be Wrong’ on two separate disks; the first track was by Spacemen 3, the second by The Byrds. 

Spacemen 3, meanwhile, contributed ‘I Love You’ and ‘Sometimes’, also on two separate flexi-disks which came free with The Catalogue monthly magazine in February 1991.

The Barmy Army released at least two football-related flexis, one called ‘Leroy’s Boots’ and the other called ‘Billy Bonds MBE’, both of which were released by On-U Sound. Neither were cut so are square disks. The latter contains commentary, including when Bonds collected the FA Cup with West Ham Utd, and fan chants set to a wonderful dub anthem … I am sure the gaffer of this site will heartily concur.

(Indeed he does! … and I’ll also note that the popular 80s US alt-pop magazine Trouser Press was relatively prolific when it came to including flexis with copies of the magazine … acts like Altered Images, Berlin, Buggles, Japan, Joan Jett, OMD, REM, and XTC all featuring on flexis at various points during the magazine's relatively short-lived but much celebrated existence – Anorak-wearing Ed).