So I've found myself catching up with Gwenno (Gwenno Saunders) for the first time since seeing her as a member of The Pipettes during an early Saturday afternoon slot on the Pyramid Stage at a particularly muddy Glastonbury 2007. As I attempted to recover from the previous three days of festival frolics with one of the site's refreshing smoothie options, the playful and pastiche girl group pop of the band was the perfect tonic. Naturally I was more than chuffed to be faced with the prospect of reviewing one of their solo efforts – even more so when it turned out to be something quite special.
Y Dydd Olaf (The Last Day) takes its name from Welsh author Owain Owain's 1976 sci-fi novel about a dystopian future in which robots have taken over and cloned the human race. This entirely captures both the themes and lyrics of the album perfectly as it is, with the exception of one track in Cornish (Amser), sung entirely in her native Welsh tongue, and functions subtly as a science fiction concept album that can effortlessly be applied to the landscape of modern society.
From the opening track 'Chwyldro' (Revolution), any reservations you might have about listening to an album sung almost entirely in Welsh are immediately washed away by Saunders' delicate and enchanting delivery, which showcases the language rightfully as the thing of beauty that it is, managing even to spellbind the sorts of fools who normally try to ridicule it. Swapping the haunting sounds and looming piano refrain of the opener for 'Patriarchaeth' (Patriarchy) provides Saunders with an equally effective platform for her gorgeous, playful melodies, this time with an offbeat trudging synth during the verses, which ascends majestically into a swirling euphoria during the choruses.
Songs like 'Calon Peiriant' (Heart Machine), title track 'Y Dydd Olaf, and 'Fratolish Hiang Perpeshki' further the albums purpose of creating a sonic counterpart to Owain's novel, with the perfect tandem of her music and lyrics giving you the uneasy feeling of having your conciousness distorted, as you find yourself jettisoned down into this eerie dystopian else-world they have both now had a part in creating. The latter track is “a song to dance to at the end of the world”, before the people in Owain's novel finally turn into machines, which Gwenno cleverly manages to liken to her observation of the emptiness she sees in contemporary pop music. She calls out in the chorus: “Come and dance in the sunset to songs which are trivial and alarming” over the distinctly Italo-disco-esque sound of 'Fratolish', with the heavy reverb on her already haunting vocals managing to evoke the uncomfortable sensation (or lack of) that might well be experienced if a soulless vacuum was slowly swallowing up all your thoughts and passions.
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This is simply an album that succeeds in everything it has tried to be, whether it be as a political album, a science fiction concept album, or just a great synth pop album. There is so much to be gained from repeated listens, and even more from just letting it steal away your imagination and taking it for a ride. One of the most refreshing, unique and fantastic musical experiences I've had in recent memory – quite literally out of this world!
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