From
'Direct Activists'
by Ruth Shade, Planet 145:

Notions about "Cool Cymru" led to considerable revisionism of the history of Welsh rock music, the dominant view being that, Badfinger excepted, Wales was a void before the 1990s. As a result, if older generations of musicians are acknowledged at all, it is as an "embarrassment".

It is surprising that those who criticise reductive descriptions of Welshness condone similar generalisations about Welsh music. However, there are reasons why "prehistoric" Welsh rock is under-valued. The film Spinal Tap has, for instance, had an effect on perceptions of rock music, placing the hard rock that is distinctive of a number of Welsh bands under suspicion. Secondly, there is the problem of examining rock in its historical context: loon-pants, symbolic of Neil in The Young Ones, are seen as risible, when at the time they were a signifier of cool; and this transfers itself to the music, which can also be perceived as absurd, if associated with musicians wearing what now seems to be period dress. Ageism forms a part of this thinking, too, as, indeed, it does with ideas about "Cool Cymru". Definitions of "cool", in relation to rock music especially, involve a snobbery which often manifests itself as a condescending attitude to the working-classes, masquerading as a disparagement of "pub" rock, for example. This has consequences for Welsh rock music, since it is frequently played live in pubs - for pragmatic reasons rather than because it is part of a genre.

Yet, since the early 1960s, rock music has formed a crucial part of the social history of modern Wales and it is important that we understand its provenance so that it can take its place within the totality of our cultural practices. Older rock musicians deserve to be appreciated in context and to be properly acknowledged as prototypes.

The rock musicians emerging during the 1960s and '70s were mainly working-class grammar-school boys; their parents were miners, painters and decorators, long distance lorry drivers, and care or shop assistants. They were (and are) clever, literate and articulate. Most are politicised and left-wing: Phil Ryan, of the Eyes of Blue, left the UK because Thatcher was elected; and a recent book, Maybe I Should Have Stayed in Bed?, by Man's Deke Leonard, contains numerous references to his committed socialism. What they also have in common is a serious interest in music from a young age, invariably accompanied by an intention to be a professional - and this at a time when professional rock musicians barely existed in the UK. Despite coming from modest backgrounds, they obtained instruments at an early stage - Graham Hedley Williams (Racing Cars) shared an £8 guitar, while others bought cheap guitars from catalogues or Cardiff music stores. What they then did was put themselves on the equivalent of apprenticeships: Budgie rehearsed intensively in a church hall; Williams accompanied record tracks until he could replicate the sound; and Paul Rosser (Dozy, the Watermelons, Racing Cars) studied songwriting. Whilst generally disaffected by formal education, they applied the principles of higher scholarship to, for instance, playing guitar.

During the 1960s, there were no music venues in Wales, as such - there was no commercial market then - and bands had to develop a circuit for live performance. Nonetheless, rock music quickly became an important cultural practice. Gwilym states that it was possible to gig seven nights a week in Wales and Morty agrees: "You could go anywhere in the Valleys... and see a live band every night of the week." Danny Chang (guitarist in Dozy, composer and record producer, owner of Direct Action records) even suggests that, "you could play in the Rhondda every night."

That there were so many bands in Wales from the 1960s is attributable to the fact that people were often well-informed about popular music; hence, there was a knowledgeable constituency to create both musicians and audience.

To a large extent, older Welsh rock musicians have remained radical and out of the mainstream. They don't, as Williams explains, have pensions; but, then, in Ace's view, musicians who have them are "sad", a point echoed by Shelley when he says that, to be a good rock musician, "you have to be in the muck". Yet they still exude an extraordinary devotion to live music, exemplified by Graham Williams's observation that: "Rock becomes who you are, eventually."

The attitude towards rock music produced by earlier generations is encapsulated by the story of Newbridge "Memo", as recounted by Mike Monk. Between the 1960s and the 1990s, the walls and ceiling of its dressing room were autographed by the hundreds of musicians who played there. Recently, the venue was redecorated and a history of Welsh rock music was obliterated when the decorators painted over the signatures. We ought to value our popular culture more than this, chiefly by recognising that Welsh rock music - the age of its creators is immaterial - isn't embryonic; it has a rich history. Equally, it isn't yet an aspect of the heritage industry. But the problem is that venues which might provide the right environment for development, like the Naval in Tonypandy, are shut. While it is reconfiguring itself, it might be an idea for the Arts Council to consider refurbishing the Naval (recently on sale for £20k) with Lottery funding and run it as a centre for music performance, recording, rehearsals and teaching. That way, the "coolest" bits of Cymru could be both maintained and re-imagined.