Calan Mai
Melennium Centre, Cardiff ~ 1 May 2010

by Mick Tems

The roar that went up from the delighted audience, at the very end of the Calan Mai celebrations, brought huge, sparkling smiles from Team Wales – the massed musicians of Y Glerorfa, Robin Huw Bowen, Steven Rees, Calan, Delyth Jenkins, Gwenan Gibbard and Sian James as well. As we left the vast theatre in the Wales Millennium Centre in Cardiff Bay and trooped off into the night, I was grinning from ear to ear – Welsh music had pulled it off with a vengeance, and how!

The First Of May – in Welsh, Calan Mai – sees everybody waiting for dawn to break to celebrate the beginning of summer. That day, we musicians rose early and drove into the night to the Roman amphitheatre at Caerleon, where several Morris men and ladies were waiting to dance the sun up. The whole ritual is repeated again, from the druids of Stonehenge to the mysterious and magical “horses” of Minehead and Padstow. It doesn’t matter which nation is marking Calan Mai; it’s a pretty long day and a pretty important event in any language.

The big Calan Mai celebration collaborated with the magnificent phenomenon that is the Lorient Interceltique, now in its 40th year. In Brittany in this harbour town, August kicks off with 12 days of Celtic marching, parading, drinking, eating, sessioning, partying, singing, playing and concerting of the very best imaginable. An unbelievably vast number of 200,000 ticket-holders celebrate Celtic culture to the limit. In the old days, the Bretons invited Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Mann and Cornwall, but the Interceltique has expanded greatly, with other nations – including Canada, Asturies and Galicia – vying for a place. Lorient Interceltique is very big bucks indeed.

Scintillating harper Bethan Nia was first to take the Glanfa Stage in the crowded WMC foyer, and she set a high standard for all musicians to beat. Heather Jones, well-known and well-loved in the whole of Wales, was next, and her thrilling voice sang folk standards such as Meic Stevens’ lament Tryweryn (about the drowning of a village by an uncaring Liverpool Corporation) and Harri Webb’s Colli Iaith. Brigyn (brothers Ynyr and Eurig Roberts, with Calan fiddler Angharad Jenkins accompanying) made the set fly by with some well-crafted acoustic contemporary songs, both Welsh and English.

But the welcome surprise was David Llewellyn, born in the Cynon Valley town of Mountain Ash and emigrated to America 19 years ago. He lives in Nashville and his penetrating songwriting and agile guitar work make him a force to be reckoned with. His anthemic song Take Us Down (about a Welsh miner who prepares his son for his first day at the pits) won hands down in a US competition, and BBC-Wales Celtic Heartbeat’s Frank Hennessy is an adoring fan of his. David won over the audience with a shedful of inspiring songs, including Silent Aberfan – a matter-of-fact account which tells how he, as a small child, was made aware of the awful tragedy which wiped out a junior school, crushed by a million tons of black slurry right next door in his neighbouring valley. The slag took a whole generation of the village’s children, children who play no more – hence the silence of Aberfan.

The rock band Sbrydion played their hearts out, and then it was the turn of 9Bach – the idea of Martin Hoyland and his wife Lisa Jen, old Welsh songs brought sharply to life by harmonium, doomy drums, searing guitar and stunning harmonies. 9Bach’s harper, Esyllt, was due to have her baby the day of the band’s gig, so Bethan Nia depped for harp, leaving Esyllt to voice a couple of songs.

The closing concert in the Donald Gordon Theatre was just stupendous and worth every penny of £20. There were fears, up to a day before Calan Mai, that the paucity of ticket sales was going to be a huge flop, but the crowds paid their money, filled the stalls and loved every minute of it.

The Breton guests - Kevrenn Alré, the most amazing bagad of all - delighted one and all with their dazzling musicianship, their sheer power and originality and their gleeful showmanship. The crowd thrilled to a bevy of Scottish warpipes and drummers, and massed bombardes, oboes and clarinets. The rise of the bagadou goes back to the 1940s, when Breton nationalism rebelled against the German occupation, and bands playing Breton music were formed.

Wales’ Creative Awards winner, Lleuwen Steffan, who currently lives in Douarnenez in Brittany, and Breton singer Nollwen Korbell, who has recorded in Breton, Welsh, French and English, wove their magic touch, and accompanied the silver-haired Meic Stevens – one of the highlights of the night. The audience really loved Y Glerorfa, a 60-strong army of fiddlers, harpers, flautists and one solitary piper, full of youthful charm and sizzling fire, whose sexy dancers radiated a sheer love of proud Welsh culture and unbroken tradition. I bet that Robin Huw Bowen and Steven Rees – as musical directors – were just over the moon.

The five-strong Calan bounced back and roared into their set. It’s so good to see Patric, Chris, Angharad, Llinos and Bethan in full flight and thoroughly enjoying their razor-sharp, feel-good repertoire; as Andrew Cronshaw once said, traditional music “should shout a bit at you.” Calan just took my breath away.

Then it was the turn of the star – Siân James, harper and silver-voiced diva extraordinaire, whose music has touched and affected so many countries around the world. Siân was magnificent; accompanied by breathy and swirling synth, whistle and acoustic guitar, she sang of bittersweet love and angst, and the crowd was transfixed. My favourite is Cariad Cyntaf; timeless, everlasting and absolutely dripping with Welsh cadences and tradition.

As I said, the roar went up. Team Wales can be thoroughly proud of themselves – and it makes you think of the army of fine musicians who couldn’t be here or didn’t get to play. Da iawn, pawb!