Mr Huw

Mr Huw, Fleur de Lys @ Y Llangollen, Bethesda

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mr huw
Town was full of men in shops, in florists, in supermarkets, clutching flowers and chocolates, queuing with that look of anxiety across their collective faces; ‘Will she like it? Is this enough? Should I spend more, who the fuck invented Valentine Day?’
Unwittingly, both he and her have given in to our society, to the death of real life through commercial suicide… Every little helps because you’re worth it… Save money by spending more with us you mugs…More

ALBUM REVIEW – Mr Huw – Cariad Afiach

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Cariad AfiachThe formula is a simple one, write a simple pop tune, pen some(times) witty lyrics, sing them with a catchy melody and release them as an album. Couldn’t get more simpler than that and that is what Mr Huw is happy to do, with this, his fourth (I think) album.

He was the bassist in Kentucky AFC, the dark one, lurking in the shadows while Endaf hogged the limelight and plaudits. If you compared Endaf and Huw to the Gecko brothers in the film ‘From Dusk til Dawn’ then Mr Huw was most definitely the Tarantino character, Richie Gecko; the one who murdered, ate and shagged his victims (in that order).More

ARCHIVE GIG – Mr Huw, Bandana, Tim & The Sam Band, Through Colour @ Morgan Lloyd, Caernarfon

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Radio One’s Big Weekend Fringe Festival

(review n pix by neil crud)

You can stick ya Cheryl Coles, ya JLS karaokees and ya sminky pinkies right up your corporate whoring, citizen erasing, life numbing stinking arse. Chatting to Rhys Mwyn between songs in the bowels of this great little venue in Caernarfon, we were both exasperated that 500,000 (mainly North Walians – are there that many?) applied for tickets for Radio One’s Big Weekend, and yet only a tiny proportion of those people will ever experience real live music. That’s grass roots live music, the sense of being, of being part of a movement, of a culture, or even a gang! Their experience of the live show will be a sanitised affair, more than likely watching a bunch of pricks and slags miming some shite that Cowell’s team have wiped from their noses onto a manuscript and straight into their bank account. There again, a couple of years ago we were almost in danger of having our music taken from us as the mainstream almost become a stomping ground for angry young guitar bands. Thankfully their anger was shallow and empty and as soon as the cheque book wafted in front of them, any sense of misadventure was shut out of their new suburban dwelling.
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