Dilyn Afon is the work of Owen Shiers, recording under the pseudonym, Cynefin, and no other album has scooped me up in its world in quite the same way. It’s true, I have no idea what he’s saying (it’s a collection of Welsh traditional songs, after all), but that speaks volumes about the cohesion and beauty of the album as a whole. Whatever, whoever or wherever he’s singing about, he has me hypnotised. It’s all I could do to stop myself packing my bags and moving to Ceredigion.
The production and arrangements are sublime. There are faint echoes of Nick Drake throughout – strong, unwavering fingerstyle patterns; gentle, breathy vocals; paired-down string arrangements; a tendency to lean into a jazz feel – even though the songs are, for the most part, traditional. And there are moments of absolute magic and beauty throughout. No earworm has pursued me quite so doggedly as the moment in “Y Ddau Farch / Y Bardd A’r Gwcw” (it’s at 2:25, if you want to find it – but make sure you listen to it in the context of the whole piece) when he shifts into the second song, moving into a major key at the same moment, and begins a series of short verses that appear to be about a cuckoo. Again, I may be wrong about the lyrical content (I’m pretty sure it is an ode to a cuckoo), but it almost doesn’t matter. It’s like watching the sun burst through a cloud, and I feel the warmth of that moment physically. Moments like that didn’t come along too often in 2020. Savour and celebrate them while you can.
You’ll get the same warmth on your skin listening to “Taith Y Cardi”, a joyous, macaronic song about a pocket thief stealing hearts and money on the West Wales Line. As a non-Welsh speaker, it does wonderful things to your brain in myriad ways. Spoiler alert, but listen to it without knowing that it’s bilingual and observe how your mind trips over itself trying to work out what’s going on. Did he just say “train”? Are we going on a journey? Who’s making the sandwiches? Have you packed your Welsh/English dictionary? Sod this lockdown lark – I’m out the door and heading to Llandysul Station.
Lyrics aside, the song – like so many on this album – appears to have its own weather system. Paul Simon may have once sung about being “dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep”, but Owen Shiers and his band have outdone that description in strokes of vivid musicality. I can’t imagine how anyone can play Dilyn Afon without feeling the ruggedness of the landscape around them, the sun dancing on the train windowsill, the cool enticement of the Clettwr Valley. From the opening field recordings of “Cân O Glod I’r Clettwr” to the final, stripped-back arrangement of “Ffarwel I Aberystwyth”, this is an aural roadtrip – a postcard – through a place, a time and its people. In my opinion, it’s nothing short of a masterpiece.
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