Language can be both liberating and constricting - especially if you're from a country that is intent on keeping its language well and truly alive, regardless of cynics and nationalists. Take Wales, for instance. People growing up in the 1950s and 1960s learned Welsh at school, but the language was looked upon as a curiosity, and rarely (if at all) used in civic life. Up until the 1960s, when Welsh had no official status, the language was used in its purist, most separatist sense. Welsh speakers would frown on the use of a word of English in a sentence, and official publications would not use English words or phrases.
Up until the beginning of the 1970s, the majority of Welsh speakers were elderly, with relatively conservative tastes. When the language was given official recognition through the Welsh Language Act at the beginning of the 1970s, however, broadcasters, government offices, and education establishments began to use it. Suddenly the use of Welsh was seen to be an advantage.
What the country now has is not only a population speaking Welsh but also a new demographic. In an interesting linguistic twist, younger people are far more confident in using English and Welsh together in normal conversation. Bilingualism is the new rock'n'roll, apparently.
"You'll hear it on the streets, people switching back and forth between the languages," says Janek Alexander, director of Chapter Arts Centre, Cardiff. "It's a very fluid and dynamic use of language that the younger generation is very comfortable with. What we've seen in the past five years is that Welsh groups are more readily using Welsh idioms. For some, that means using purely English language with Welsh construction. With others it's writing songs in Welsh. Welsh bands tend to be rather literate. There is a great deal of the autodidact in the Welsh character, a belief in knowledge and a realisation of the importance of knowledge. Wales has a very informed culture."
Which brings us - in a roundabout way - to Super Furry Animals, a band with a clause in their record contract that stipulates that they may take St David's Day off. In 1990, a proto-Super Furry Animals trio, comprising Dafydd Ieuan, Gruff Rhys and Guto Pryce, toured France as a techno act accompanying the Welsh underground band, Anhrefn. All the members of SFA spent the best part of the 1980s in a series of bands, each of them drummers in search of a different beat, before meeting up with each other in 1993. (Former early band member, Rhys Ifans, went on to become an actor. You might have seen him in Notting Hill.) Two years of writing and playing together followed. Then, in 1995, the Super Furry Animals gathered at techno legend Gorwel Owen's intimate home studio in the Anglesey village of Llanfaelog to record songs for the influential Cardiff-based label, Ankst Records.
Now with the full line-up of Gruff Rhys (vocals/guitars), Dafydd Ieuan (drums), Cian Ciaran (keyboards), Guto Pryce (bass) and Huw Bunford (guitars) the 1995 release of their first two EPs, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogery chwyndrobwllantysiliogogogochyn ygofod (in space) and Moog Droog saw SFA starting to create public interest. The band's fourth gig - their first outside Wales - saw them playing at London's Splash Club in May 1995. Creation label boss, Alan McGee, watched their second London show shortly afterwards; and said that they'd be stars if they sung a few songs in English. He hadn't realised that Gruff Rhys had actually been singing in English throughout the gig.
"It's a common mistake that people from outside Wales make," says SFA guitarist and former art teacher, Huw Bunford, curiously shielding a fact that he knows only too well: Alan McGee's Scottish accent can be just as impenetrable. "When Gruff was 13, he heard John Cale, a Welsh valley boy, singing on a Velvet Underground record. He thought they were a Welsh rock band rather than a bunch of disbanded New York bohemians."
Super Furry Animals enter the rock music arena at a time when the constituent parts of Britpop have all but dispersed, and when the threads of varying musical styles are being pulled together to form an eclectic pick'n'mix music selection. The Welsh band's latest album, Guerrilla, extends their repertoire to include a myriad of influences that range from Bowie to Beach Boys, from hip-hop to Joy Division, from techno to calypso. It holds no truck whatsoever with the Cool Cymru scenario they perceive to be an invention of the UK music media. Is Wales just home, then, and nothing more?
"Too right," says Huw. "That said, five years ago, it would have been hard to sing in English in North Wales without being beaten up. It would have been difficult for my family, but that was more about cultural identity rather than hatred of the English. Mind you, did you know there's still a byelaw in Chester that allows you to shoot a Welshman with a crossbow after midnight?"
Five years have seen a change in SFA's life. In 1994, they just wanted to make a record. Now they make a living through music. A dream has come true. "It was a very naive beginning, but it was what we wanted to do. Occasionally you get complacent, but we always think we could go back on the dole. We met through coming down to Cardiff in the winter of love in 1990. We just hung around in clubs, and more often than not we were the only ones left standing. Anything and everything inspired us. There were no pretensions about what we wanted. We were all friends and we just fell into a like-minded group. We were all in Welsh bands previously, so we knew each other on the small Welsh-language circuit."
Communications between SFA and their other Welsh commercial counterparts such as Manic Street Preachers, Stereophonics, Catatonia and (let there be no snobbery) Steps are virtually non-existent. I ask Huw is there anything that connects his band with Manic Street Preachers and he says one word: "Wales". What, then, differentiates his band from the likes of Manic Street Preachers, Stereophonics and Catatonia? Two words this time: "Record sales".
Ask him about the use of the Welsh language in SFA's music and he responds somewhat more enthusiastically. "It's quite natural for us, because we're bilingual," he says. "We can't avoid the fact that, as it's a minority language, if you sing in Welsh it's a political statement. Gruff writes lyrics in Welsh and English, and we've never translated or changed lyrics. We're actually recording two albums at the moment. One is an instrumental/electronic record. The other is a Welsh-language record. It might do quite well in Europe - they don't seem to have the same problem with foreign languages that the UK and US have. In Europe, it doesn't matter what language you use.
"Bilingualism is cool. The language situation in Wales bears strong similarities to what's taking place in Ireland, which is inevitable seeing that Wales looks to Ireland for a number of things, notably in politics and culture. We used to get flak from the Welsh media and nationalists for singing in English, but you know, it was only farmers who were complaining. You'd ask the kids and they were totally up for it. They see you on Top Of The Pops and they know you're Welsh, and it's inspiring for them. They see us and feel if we can do it, then they can do it as well. Looking at us, who could blame them?"
Super Furry Animals play Dublin's Olympia Theatre on Tuesday, September 7th as part of the Transmissions New Digital Sounds series.
