Sets from Opus Kink, The New Eves and Tapir! among the highlights of a great three days.

After a journey beset by storm Babet and accompanying travel disruption, we made it to Cardiff a little fried but glad to be swaddled in Welsh accents babbling around the street and one of Wales’ best music events, Sŵn Festival, already underway. The festival was started over a decade ago by Huw Stephens, showcasing a mix of Welsh music and breaking acts from across the country. It reliably brings a great selection of acts together across a series of charming venues, and this year comprised some of its finest selections to date.

The Friday night of a weekend festival can sometimes feel like something of a token offering, warming up the venues and crowds alike, but this year Sŵn flew out of the traps. A rejuvenated Pip Blom celebrated the release of new album ‘Bobbie’ with their set before Bill Ryder-Jones delighted faithful fans of his illustrious solo career and preceding work with The Coral. For those wanting more of a kick to their Friday night revelry, it was all about Lynks’ headline set, an evolution of the ridiculous brilliance they have brought to stages for some years now. Highlights of the latest set include the staged fake death and resuscitation of the newest member of Lynks Shower Gel (the accompanying dance troupe), and the inclusion of a whole sofa as part of the set dressing.

Saturday drew crowds early with some cracking early acts, so much so that we couldn’t get in to see Picture Parlour at Clwb. Queues were not so much of an issue at last year’s festival, though city festivals are always liable to a bit of this, especially when it is a fast-rising band like this whose profile has grown a great deal since being booked. Taking heed of the crowds, we got in nice and early for Rosie Alena, whose updated setlist was added a new confidence to the performance. Newer songs, particularly opener (‘Billboards and TV’), earned their place as highlights along with more familiar tunes like the immaculate orchestral pop tune ‘God’s Garden.’ The extensive technical invention of cellist Haydn Wynn stole the show among an outstanding backing band, speaking of Alena’s own schooled musical upbringing.

Sŵn revolves around Womanby Street, creating a blissful festival buzz away from Cardiff’s main strip (a morass of, er… lively… merriment on any Saturday night) and creating an atmosphere that encourages music discovery that suggests East 7^th and Rainey Street at South By South West. As we piled out of Clwb after Rosie Alena, it was a matter of moments to stumble across the road to Fuel Café for a rousing change of vibe from Babymorocco. You could take or leave music, but the infectious MCing of Mr. Morocco himself made this a must-see, at least as the first fifteen minutes of the set gave him the platform to gradually remove layers of clothing to maximise the visual effect of his muscular physique. Morocco guided us through each track with cunning turns of phrase to make it feel exciting but also fun. “This song is about worshipping bass! This one’s about my ex, don’t exes suck? Yeah but I did record this bit of her on the phone so being with wasn’t a total waste. This is the really electronic one (in a a set of electronic music).”

The afternoon created that desirable loss of time and place, making the daylight between venues a slight realignment every time. Hopping between Babymorocco, the charming softly spoken indie rock of Trout and the ever-brilliant Vanity Fairy the day stretched out like one long party all before 6pm. Vanity Fairy’s stage antics are always revelatory and fresh for each venue, pushing the backing track/singing form towards the bounds of dadaistic performance art. Among favourite moves in which she alternates between glitzy disco queen and inanimate monoliths, the highlight was surely her strolling behind the bar mid-song, delighting the crowd and bar staff alike, while rousing the careful attention of security.

Closing the night, it would have been wrong to skip on an opportunity to pop into Jacobs, the gallery/antique shop/cafe that also plays host to two of the festival’s stages. Upstairs dominated by slightly wanting rock acts, the unanimously sunglassesed Waterpistol, a new Cardiff band looking the part of 70s rock band but not quite breaking out of first gear, each song having the feeling of an opener. Following them, Nookee offered more promise, the lead vocalist twins making for compelling viewing as they traded lead parts, split notes and breathy accents. That said, their set also leant a little too heavily on old blues band tropes with a lingering redolence of inauthenticity, not least because the exchange of lead vocals left little room for the expressive improvisation that defines the blues. The slide towards pastiche was completed in a crowd singalong where one half of the room yelled “real love” while the other was implored to respond with “sweet thing.”

Downstairs, the sweltering basement offered a little more uniqueness, Baba Ali’s combination of live scratchy guitar with programmed beats forming a unique platform for his lyrics. Closing the night, Flamingods ignited their rich sonic soup, long groove-based songs trailing with rousing energy. The form felt a little relentless after some time, but the sound upon entering the room was genuinely exciting, even if some finer details of their unusual assortment of instruments were a little lost.

Early on Sunday, the top priority to see was Muriel, whose single ‘Seaside Painter’ was one of the year’s finest tunes. Where that tune evoked classic acts like Pavement and Sparklehorse as well as contemporaries like Baggio and Moon Balloon, the sound upon entering the room went deeper into the expansive beauty of that mode of guitar music, a point mid-song reducing the music to the minimalistic brilliance that shines through caroline records. The effect was completed by droning violin, yawning slide guitar and pump organ. A rousing performance on Clwb’s top floor was declared to be the band’s favourite to date as they revealed it to be only their sixth ever. Here’s hoping they get plenty of opportunity to export that set beyond the bounds of Cardiff.

A day of great songwriter-led performances unfolded, this set being followed up by a double-bill of Oscar Browne and Ethan P Flynn. Despite working with a reduced lineup, the latter was a particularly powerful presence, new song ‘Demolition Expert’ a particular highlight, appropriately introduced as one of two “devastating” songs that bookend the recently released debut album ‘Abandon All Hope.’

For the Sunday, a new venue was added to the festival’s fine range. Cornerstone is a modern church with a stark and beautiful interior. As Tapir! took the stage, they remarked that they have happened to play rather a few churches and this was certainly one of the nicest. Playing through their two EPs with a bonus untitled closing jig, the set was made by the early revelation that it was cornet player and vocalist Em Hubbard’s birthday. Cue random yells of ‘happy birthday’ throughout the set, including from her bandmates during her vocal spotlight.

Bringing the night to a thunderous close was a trio of Brighton bands imposing an unplanned dominance on the night. Opus Kink’s Angus Rodgers asserted this, shouting out things like ‘Brighton represent’ as Flip Top Head blasted through their set. An imposing sound given deeper weight by the trombone features, they wailed on in Baroque staging, a pile of long instruments raised on one side of the stage as the two vocalists sang into the storm from the other.

Next were The New Eves, one of many bands still rubbing weary eyes after a rapid turnover from Left of the Dial and telling the audience all about it. Cellist/guitarist Nina Winder-Lind lamented not having had a chance to catch any acts before Flip Top Head. They had every intention of doing so, but upon arriving in Cardiff felt the best course of action was in fact to go lie down in a nearby park. Refreshed from this rest, they incited the buzz familiar to anyone who has caught them live this year with their enthusing blend of folk harmony and punk expressiveness.

Closing the festival, Opus Kink took to the stage upstairs at Clwb for a harsh, rock ‘n’ roll Sunday service. Their tendency towards destruction through music made for a grand endnote, blasting into the skulls of an audience already somewhat dazed from a bleary weekend of music and beer and late nights. At one point, the primality was underscored by Rogers clambering down from the low stage into the crowd, drawing them down to the ground with him as he gave some shaman sway among them. A fitting band to conclude a celebration of the some of the most exciting bands on the live scene right now, this was a suitably raucous close to a great weekend of music.