Mike Jenkins - Welsh Poet & Author
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Future of Cymraeg - much to be done

6/19/2019

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Picture
   We’ve made it to the Guardian’s G2, the Welsh language is officially ‘cwl’.
   When did it all begin? Was it with Dafydd ap Gwilym, or not to mention that Glendower fella from Shakespeare?
   Not since John Peel played the likes of Datblygu and Anrhefn……’development’ and ‘disorder’ don’t sound quite the same.
   Apparently, it’s all down to a heavy metal band called Alffa and the 1 million Spotify plays for their single ‘Gwenyn’.
   And, of course, Gwenno brings out her latest album ‘Le Kov’ in Cornish and Welsh sounds so modern.
   It’s great to be celebrated by journalist and Welsh-speaker from Y Wyddgrug / Mold Rhiannon Lucy Coslett whose dad was dead on when he observed that the language is the water we swim in. ( Especially for the Whales and Carlo prince of the orcas with his underwater kingdom!).
   People of all kinds are now learning Welsh : big, small, fat , tall  ; but let’s not forget one of my heroes Ali Yassine.
   Ali’s a Cymro from Kaairdiff of Somalian descent who’s been on the scene for quite some time and was the best announcer we ever had at Cardiff City FC. Like myself, an avid Adar Gleision,who before games  would play the Super Furries’ ‘The Man Don’t Give A Fuck’ ( about legendary player and nutter Robin Friday) and Dafydd Iwan’s stirring anthem ‘Yma o hyd’.
   Now all we get is machine music, techno-garbage to addle the brain.
   It is actually heartening to see a double page spread in G2 praising the rise of the Welsh language and Coslett’s right that it can’t be separated from the preponderance of ‘Cofiwch Dryweryn’ graffiti, though she fails to mention the emergence of Yes Cymru and ,with it, a renewed interest in independence.
   In the same newspaper the generally excellent writer Paul Mason recently lumped in my hometown of Merthyr with Mansfield and Hull as post-industrial places ripe for Faragism.
   He totally discounted our many differences and ,when I wrote a letter to that effect, they didn’t publish it.  
  Historically, we were represented in Westminster for many years by a renegade Labour MP S.O. Davies, who was way ahead of his time on devolution and embraced our self-determination fully. We had a Plaid-run Council in the 70s and left-wing nationalist Emrys Roberts came close to winning the seat when Labour’s Ted Rowlands was first elected.
   More recently, in a single year’s existence our local branch of Yes Cymru has flourished and , significantly, took the lead to organise the protest against Nigel Farage’s visit.
   Several street stalls and one at the Rising festival proved very successful, with so many positive responses ; perhaps most surprisingly from staunch Labourites who had come round to Indy-ism ; more because of their total disillusionment with Labour in Cardiff Bay and Labour councils failing to tackle austerity  and carrying out policies akin to the Tories.
   Undoubtedly, there are disaffected working-class voters in Merthyr who support Farage ,with many spurred on by the anti-immigration propaganda .
   However,there are also many tired with a failed Westmonster and British state which has never ( under Tories and Labour) improved their lives to any degree. Labour’s dreadful policies on health, education and our economy in Cymru only add to this need for an alternative.
   The cultural distinctions are equally vital and cannot be distinguished from politics.
   A Welsh language revival is wonderful, yet private companies continue to ignore their responsibilities.
   Crucially, the WAG’s plan for Welsh in English language schools is seriously flawed. It anticipates widespread usage yet the reality is there has to be a concerted scheme for training Primary staff and teacher-trainers, together with a curriculum which puts our history and literature at the very centre not margin.
   As to Secondary schools, Welsh is often taken as a half GCSE and , like all languages, given scant importance in terms of training and funding. On the most pragmatic level, it should be fully backed as providing career opportunities. On a cultural level, it must be closely linked to the study of music, literature and history.
   At least the new curriculum does acknowledge the chance for theme-based learning : an old idea which became buried as the obsession with testing grew.
   Welsh could easily become ‘un-cwl’ again, like the music of the 90s.
   It shouldn’t be the ‘secret language’ Coslett finds so enticing ; rather an everyday one, however humdrum.
   Independence does not guarantee this:look at Ireland where, ironically, republican Belfast is at the forefront of a Gaelic revival.  
   We need policies and a grassroots movement committed to revolutionary changes ; even in Welsh-language schools our history and music are side-lined and both are inextricably connected to the language.
   As a learner, I’m excited by the opportunities available for adults, but this should be reciprocated for young people who, far too often, leave to use their talents elsewhere.
 
                                       
 
 
 
 
 
CWTCH
 
You need to be aware
‘cwtch’ is spelt with a ‘c’ not ‘s’
(which is the Anglicized version).
 
That there will almost certainly
be a café near you
with that very name.
 
You need to distinguish
between ‘cwtch dan staer’ and embracing,
though the two could be combined.
 
You must be wary of anyone
who translates it as ‘hugging’
( see ‘hiraeth’, ‘hwyl’  and ‘gwerin’) .
 
You have to cross the border
and ignore the Prince of Wales bridge
to appreciate its loving warmth.
 
‘Gis a cwtch ‘en!’
is not a come on ,
though men don’t say it to men.
 
The perfect scenario is to have one
in a caffi of the same name
whilst sharing ‘pice ar y maen’.
 
‘Cwtch’ is an easier way into Cymraeg
than, say, ‘gwasanaethau’ ;
scientists agree, even whales do it.  
​
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THEA GILMORE AT ACAPELA - a place of rare sights

6/12/2019

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Picture
photo by Ian Thomas, with thanks
 
   I’ve been plugging and blogging about singer-songwriter Thea Gilmore for far too long. My friend Andrew (who introduced me to her music in the first place on one of his special cassettes) reckons I even got a credit on the selected cd ‘Recorded Delivery’ , though I think it might be a different ‘Mike’.
   If he’s right, then I’m dead chuffed.
   A few weeks back our local band of Theaphiles ( myself, Ian and Andrew) attended her gig at the intimate, if a bit sweaty converted chapel and pizza venue Acapela in Pentyrch, which she decided not to try and pronounce. It seemed to me like her arrival centre stage after too long in the wings.
   Dylan wanes, Waits has disappeared, Tom Russell’s equally neglected and our own Meic Stevens continues to awkwardly insist on singing in his native tongue, which relegates him in the eyes of the Anglo-centric media.
   The gig at Acapela – where a congregation of avid fans gathered – highlighted one of her best ever albums, the latest ‘Small World Turning’ ; even though the predecessor ‘The Counterweight’ was rightly lauded.
   ‘This is why I liked her in the first place’ commented Andrew, though she’s never lost it through the years. Ian was open-mouthed, in awe.
   The concert had it all : Thea in resounding voice backed by husband and producer Nigel Stonier and multi-instrumentalist Matt Owens, who was also support act.
   Many songs from the new album were featured like ‘Cutteslowe Walls’ which describes an area in her native Oxford where the walls separated rich and poor –
‘She recalls all kind of trouble
If she played in the shadow of the Cutteslowe walls’
   This apt description is brought home in the final verse with references to food banks and the homeless.
   ‘The Revisionist’, like ‘Glory’ and ‘Blowback’ are far more cutting , dark songs, which show that, despite her ever-catchy tunes, Thea can go for the jugular when it comes to the hypocrisy and right-wing populism of today.
    ‘Throwing hatred like confetti
Drinking populism neat’
   In ‘Blowback’ the character has wide appeal on the media, yet –
‘He sows those coins into the earth
 And fences off his land’
   If you ever wondered what kind of songs the Bob Dylan of ‘Hard Rain’ would be writing today, then here’s your answer.
   She asks the audience ‘Who needs Boris Johnson?’ to which one man replies ‘I do!’  ( my mate Andrew responds with ‘Fuck off!’).
   Her song for her talkative and creative son, ‘Don’t Dim Your Lights for Anyone’ touches anyone whose children do not fit readily into a system which craves bland obedience. It’s an anthem for the kind of young, rebellious spirits who have taken the lead in protests against global warming –
   ‘Some trust in God
Some just pass through,
But me my love
I trust in you’ 
   Interspersed between these wonderful songs from ‘Small World Turning’ were a series of her classics such as ‘Old Soul’ , ‘This Girl’ and ‘Your Voice’, the latter in praise of democracy despite the appalling rise of Farage recently.
   Nigel Stonier (‘ a bad time to be called Nigel’ quipped Thea) gave us the remarkable back-story of the album and how it had been rejected by three record companies before they decided to go it alone and Thea ‘became a label’.
   It actually rose to 16 in the charts in the first fortnight of release and number 1 in the Americana charts here. This is quite odd as , apart from ‘The Loading Game’, the influence of Irish folk is stronger.
   She ended a captivating concert with ‘Karr’s Lament’, such a subtly descriptive song –
  ‘ And the smell of the earth
Where the storm has broken’   
   A sadly joyful one, with a chorus to echo within like the sound of waves at night in a coastal town.
   To claim that Thea has now been acknowledged and recognised may be a little premature ;in the past, her songs ‘ That’ll be Christmas’ and ‘London’ ( with Sandy Denny’s words) had a lot of radio airplay.
   Yet this album , more than any other, speaks about our troubled times without any ranty, shouty directness, which can be so off-putting. 
   If Thea were just a great lyricist then the road would be laid. As it is, she has the music, voice and musicians to match.
   The road rises up ahead – ‘I’ll still be using my voice’ she sings.
   It would be heartening to think that many will tread, upward and onward, to a place of rare sights, to the summit.
 
                                                  COMMON, EXTRAORDINARY
 
I was on my way downhill
Another day’s trudge to drudgery
On a dark winter morning
With the black hole and its tip
Looming across the valley.
 
Under the road bridge
Where pigeons nest in gaps
And the traffic’s groans and sighs
Vibrate above my head ;
Black cat graffiti silhouette.
 
Suddenly, on a street-lamp
A blackbird sings into the nowness
Duped by the brightness
Yet still such a tune
I could only stop and listen.
 
No times to be met,
No appointments or forms :
A common bird so extraordinary
That past and future ceased,
One hand clapping, my applause.
​
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