VRï
islais a genir
bendigedig
28 October 2022
When we think about how to defend a marginalised culture or minority language, we often think in terms of struggle. This is perfectly understandable, and a certain amount of struggle is often necessary: the struggle to be heard and to be accepted underpins a whole host of human rights movements, linguistic revivals and political causes. But there is a flipside to the difficult battles and hard-won gains, which is, to put it simply, joy. The joy of a culture making itself heard again after years or sometimes centuries of oppression is something to behold. Think of the outpouring of art, literature and music that accompanied the black power movement in America or the unfettered creativity and positivity that has helped define LGBTQ+ identity. These artistic explosions – often ecstatic, colourful, and communal in their nature – are a step towards forming a new identity or making an old one visible.
This can be the case – albeit on a smaller scale than the examples I’ve mentioned – with marginalised languages and national or regional cultures. The Welsh language fell victim to a cultural and religious shift that began in Tudor times and continued, in various forms, until the twentieth century. It stayed afloat in rural areas, but it remains a minority language. But change has been in the air for a while: in the 2001 census, the number of Welsh speakers in Wales increased for the first time in over a century. Beyond the cold, hard numbers, there is a cultural change. Awareness of Welsh has increased in part because of the success of Welsh-language musical artists, from Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci to Gwenno Saunders. It is now not unusual to hear the language spoken on UK television and radio stations.
If Wales can be said to have a national psyche, it is heavily linked to song. From eisteddfods to rugby songs, male voice choirs to the Green Man festival, the outsider’s view of Wales is of a musical nation, specifically a nation that takes immense joy in song. And if any band can be said to tap into the source of that joy, it is VRÏ. The name translates roughly as ‘up’, but it has connotations of elation or lightness, of a feeling of floating. They describe what they do as ‘vocal and instrumental chamber music’, and create a signature sound entirely unencumbered by rhythmic or melodic ‘anchors’ – no drums, no fretted or keyed instruments. Mostly this equates to a combination of voice, harmonium and various fretless strings. It sounds like a simple combination, but the results are varied and impressive.
A trio comprising of Patrick Rimes, Jordan Price Williams and Aneirin Jones, VRÏ set out their stall early: islais a genir’s lavish packaging makes it clear that part of the band’s mission is to give more prominence to the old Welsh-language folk songs that have long been lost to the public consciousness, songs suppressed by the Methodist social hegemony. But while their debut (2018’s Ty Ein Tadau) was a direct, almost punkish rebuke to the chapel tradition, islais a genir (A Sung Whisper) is the work of a group playing entirely on their own terms and truly engaging with their heritage. Where the first album documented the struggle, this one relishes the joy of its own creation. Opening track Y Gaseg Felen sounds like a group rejoicing in their closeness, their shared vision: short, clipped verses, beautifully harmonised that begin without accompaniment before a harmonium drone kicks in, and the song rolls over into Aberhonddu, in which Jordan Price Williams sings a song written by a Welsh soldier preparing to leave his country for the Napoleonic wars. It is sweetly performed and especially poignant when we learn that Williams’ own father was also a soldier. The fiddle is both rousing and melancholic, perhaps tapping into the uniquely Welsh sentiment of hiraeth.
Y Gaseg Ddu is an urgent, tragi-comic foot-tapper with call-and-response vocals about a man who feeds his beloved horse so much it dies. A sinuous, fiddle-led set of three instrumentals, Yr Ehedydd (‘The Lark’) leaps and flutters, full of the delight of communal music-making. The first part is traditional, a celebration of Owain Glyndŵr, while the other two sections are originals by Jones and Williams. They sit so well together that they could almost be a single suite on one theme.
The miniature, stately Glanhafren resembles a snippet of chamber music and introduces Cainc Sain Tathan, a Glamorgan ox-drovers’ song full of increasingly bizarre lyrical detail (including a description of a pair of mice pulling a cart full of crockery). It has a gleeful dizziness to it. March Glas is a riotous bit of braggadocio – a protagonist talking about the immense prowess of his stallion – which proves that the male boast has been a feature of music since long before gangsta rap or cock rock was even thought of. The trio have great fun with this one, their vocals coming at you from all angles.
There is a distinct change of pace on Glan Meddwdod Mwyn. Slow and full of yearning, it encapsulates a kind of rosy-cheeked, damp-eyed nostalgia evocative of home and hearth and a good drop of booze. The tune holds an important place in many Welsh hearts – it nearly became the national anthem at one point. It is followed by Y Cap O Las Fawr, the first of three songs to feature the vocals of poet and singer Beth Celyn. The song is traditional, but Celyn adds a passage of her own poetry, and it becomes a kind of call to arms. Using the imagery of lace, she weaves the past and the present, Welsh with English, female empowerment and cultural freedom. It is a powerful statement and one that is ably backed up by the band’s tightly melodic playing.
Celyn’s other two contributions combine to form a poetic examination of the life of a 19th-century milkmaid. Canu’r Canrifoedd is a dual-language poem exploring the opposing states of oppression and freedom that can both be part of the milkmaid’s daily life, while on Brithi I’r Buarth she sings a traditional milkmaid’s song. Her rich tones are unaccompanied for the first minute, and the song transcends its status as a means for guiding cattle and becomes a celebration of wildness, of rural life and the Welsh landscape.
On Y Foel Fynydda the trio get to stretch out, musically speaking, and create a slowly unfolding soundscape which backs up Williams’ song about the historical difficulties faced by gay men in Welsh communities. It is rare and encouraging to encounter a song that exists adjacent to the folk tradition that engages with queerness in a way that is neither codified nor flippant. The song itself is a glorious, wide-ranging hybrid – part original and part traditional – full of sadness and hope.
Two of the album’s most ambitious tracks combine to form an instrumental suite that runs to more than ten minutes. The first, Gwenno, is dedicated to Gwenno Roberts, a friend of the band, while the second celebrates the birth of her baby, Eiri. Together, the two pieces cover a lot of ground, from the lush, textural fiddle of the first piece, through a brief, quiet and exquisitely evocative jig and a lullaby-like piece composed by Rimes to the final, bracing flourish of a Cornish-inspired ‘five-step’ tune.
The final track, Briallu Mair, combines a rousing summer carol with an uplifting fiddle tune. The lyrics speak of the end of winter, of the greenness of the Welsh countryside. It is perhaps the album’s most joyful moment, and that feeling of joy encapsulates much of what VRÏ are about. islais a genir is an album that honours variety and positively revels in its own complex, colourful identity, by turns thoughtful and celebratory. A formidable artistic and cultural statement.
VRï’s islais a genir releases worldwide on 28 October 2022. The CD comes with a beautiful 48-page full-colour booklet with photos with sleevenotes from writer and journalist Andy Morgan.
Please note that pre-orders for this release will be delivered to you by the date of release, 28th October 2022.
Pre-Order islais a genir – https://islaisagenir.lnk.to/mg0EfM
VRÏ Tour Dates
October 28 – The Welfare / Y Neuadd Les, Ystradgynlais
October 29 – Wyeside, Builth Wells / Llanfair Ym Muallt
November 3 – RWCMD Cardiff / Caerdydd
November 11 – The Met, Bury
November 12 – Mwldan, Cardigan / Aberteifi
November 15 – The Pound Arts Centre, Corsham
January 28 – Glasgow Royal Concert Hall, New Auditorium*
* Celtic Connections – Cara Dillion And VRï (Tickets)
Ticket Links – https://www.vri.cymru/dates