Louisiana

Much has been made of Gwenno’s use of her mother tongue on her debut LP, Y Dydd Olaf.

Welsh is seen as a minority language in Britain, even in South Wales, so to record a full album yn Gymraeg and expect it to be commercially viable seems ambitious. But Y Dydd Olaf, despite its indecipherable to most language and offbeat themes, has been applauded across the board.

H. Hawkline, Gwenno’s Heavenly label mate, also sings in Welsh, but prefers English on record. He’s on first at this double headlining gig at the Louisiana, and his laidback strange pop sounds full-bodied and fresh in the top room. Bathed in the red light that is the Loui’s special favourite, I clock that he’s backed by a bassist that could be his twin – but don’t worry, he’s already making charmingly self-deprecating fun of this, and continues to banter with the crowd about the band’s car wheel exploding earlier in the day and his psychiatrist brother, who gave him the guitar he’s playing. There’s also drummer Dan, who we last spotted at Drinks’ End of the Road set. Hi Dan.

Into the gig and Hawkline’s Welsh shines on Moddion, a cut of crashing post-punk, and favourites Moons in My Mirror and Rainy Summer are smoothed further in the flesh. The only shame is the sound isn’t quite good enough for us to pick out every word of Hawkline’s whip-smart wordplay.

Next, Gwenno appears. As well as being really, really pregnant behind her Korg sampler and keyboard, she’s resplendent in a sparkling gown that is a perfect match for the grand themes she tackles on her LP. Before every track she’s compelled to outline what each one is about (ranging from Cardiff Bay’s bad town planning on Sisial Y Mor to media manipulation in Calon Peiriant) for the benefit of her English audience and gives an English translation of the Welsh language titles (Whispers of the Sea and Machine Heart, if you’re not as blessed with a ‘B’ at Welsh ‘A’ Level as I am).

Patriarchaeth (or Patriarchy) is simply described as “shit, isn’t it?” “Yes,” we all nod back, including the knot of older blokes that have clustered at Gwenno’s feet. Good. As we watch her ripple her deceptively joyful synth-pop into the shiny-eyed crowd there’s something undeniably evocative about watching a soon-to-be-mother singing about male oppression in her mother tongue. I’m glad I had a glance of the doom-laden lyrics beforehand so I can capture the full effect: “Sach yn drwm, ffordd yn serth/ dy ddynoliaeth dal ar werth” (The sack is heavy, the road is steep/ your humanity is still up for sale”).

After nearly making me weep with feminist, patriotic feelings (yes, I’m Welsh, I have a lot of them), she brings out her full band. Husband Rhys, who produced the album, is on bass, and drummer Kliph, formerly of the Flaming Lips, support her through the mid-section of the set, adding a Sexwitch-like tribal chant vibe to the live set up. It’s a different energy than on record, and just as welcome as the reverb-soaked electronics of Gwenno solo. It all ties together nicely as Gwenno draws from popular Welsh folksong Ar Hyd Y Nos on Golau Arall.

Two headliners with two very different approaches making Welsh music look like a more exciting prospect than ever. Diolch Gwenno a H. Hawkline – bendigedig, as we say in Wales.