Welsh-language music has been back in the news of late, with the row over Sage Todz's exclusion from/boycott of the Eisteddfod (depending on which perspective you take). His bilingual material failed to meet the festival's strict Welsh-language-only policy, and he refused to compromise: "My songs are finished products not subject to change."
Reluctant though I am to wade into the debate (especially as an outsider whose Welsh-language learning has fallen by the wayside since the pandemic - albeit one whose son is in Welsh-language education), I do think the Eisteddfod organisers are shooting themselves in the foot here. Yes, the policy applies across the board, so it's not explicitly biased against BAME artists. But it seems short sighted not to relax that policy for the sake of encouraging those like Sage Todz who provide a route into Welsh-language music and culture for people who instinctively think that Welsh is not for them.
Welsh Government minister Vaughan Gething agreed, arguing that Sage Todz brings Welsh to "a wider, more diverse audience" and urging the organisers to "take this opportunity to reconsider their approach" on the grounds that the festival is "the major showcase event for the future of the language".
That last point is perhaps contentious. What is the Eisteddfod actually for? If it's to celebrate and preserve Welsh language and culture as they currently exist (as many seem to think), then the policy can be seen as justified. But if it's about promoting the language and culture more widely - as living, growing entities rather than as static, calcified traditions - and ensuring that both have a bright future, then a rethink is needed.
Credit to Welsh-language band Adwaith, who - in the midst of all the back and forth between those of opposing opinions - actually stepped forwards with what seemed to me to be a couple of eminently sensible proposals: an ethnically diverse panel that includes Welsh learners to look into how the Eisteddfod could be made more accessible, and a relaxed language policy for Maes B alone. The suggestions inevitably provoked more debate, and it remains to be seen what (if anything) will happen.
All of this is a long-winded way of pointing you in the direction of Yoni Kroll's recent article on Bandcamp. Like Huw Stephens' documentary Anorac, Rhys Thomas' 2020 piece for Vice and Sophie Williams' NME article published to coincide with Dydd Miwsig Cymraeg 2022, it's a helpful crash course for the uninitiated on the history of Welsh-language music and its political and social context. Adwaith put in an appearance, as do their label boss Gruff of Carmarthen-based Libertino and BBC Radio Cymru/former Anhrefn member Rhys Mwyn. Among Kroll's recommendations for further listening are Anhrefn's 'Dim Heddwch' b/w 'Priodas Hapus' and Adwaith's second LP Bato Mato, plus a couple of compilations and albums by the likes of Datblygu and Melin Melyn.
The piece isn't without its niggles (the claim that everyone in Wales "is fluent in English", for instance - that's not really the case in parts of the west and particularly the north). And Kroll's accent on the positive means that he omits to mention that the intimate connection between language, culture and nation can have a less savoury dimension, as recently evidenced by the fact that 'Yma O Hyd', Dafydd Iwan's song of national defiance, has been appropriated by right-wing groups protesting against asylum seekers - much to his dismay.
But overall it's encouraging to see a piece that gives visibility to Welsh-language music of all hues published on a major online platform. If more people discover Adwaith and their antecedents as a result, then that can only be welcomed.
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