My friend Richard Jones from the Stereophonics had been trying
to sell his London flat for months. You’d think a stylish loft-style
property in a desirable location would be snapped up, but viewings had been
sparse. So when the agent rang to say he had an ideal prospect: a single, chain-free
entertainment person who wanted to view immediately, Richard didn’t want
to miss the opportunity, even though he was away on tour.
As fate would have it, his mam was up from Wales visiting his wife, Gail, while
he was away. She set-to with a duster and got the place looking spick and span
just before the doorbell rang. In walked Rhys Ifans.
“
Bloody hell!” cursed Rich’s mam. “I’ve spent all morning
cleaning this flat but if I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have
bothered.”
She didn’t know that Rich and Rhys and Gail were friends, having once
lived in the same block of flats in Swiss Cottage. Cue situation comedy-type
embarrassment.
“
Yeah, it’s true,” Ifans confirms, reddening a little at the recollection.
I’ve recounted the story partly to distract him while we tiptoe around
the elephant in the room - his tour manager has warned me not to mention the
break-up of his love affair with a blonde English actress - and partly because
we’re sheltering from the rain in the doorway of a tour bus parked-up
in Cwmaman, the village in which Rich grew up with Kelly Jones and Stuart Cable.
Rhys is here on singing duty with Y Peth (‘The Thing’), an esoteric
rock band with a cult following, touring the country obliquely from Portmeirion
to the Valleys, playing gigs in obscure village halls and selling out everywhere,
thanks in part to his celebrity.
Despite pronouncements of maudlin heartbreak preoccupying the tabloids, he
seems in fine spirits; inebriated, naturally - the Shepherd's Arms has just
closed for the afternoon - but on good form nevertheless.
He deftly changes the subject by offering me cheese, a present from Llanddewi
Brefi where the band played last night. It’s probably the only food on
the bus.
Rhys Ifans is clearly the exception to Mark Twain’s maxim that clothes
make the man. I have the impression he walked off the street and onto the bus
without so much as a toothbrush. He gratefully accepts the gift of a T-shirt.
“
I don’t suppose you’ve got any fresh socks?”
He might look a sight but he exudes warmth and charisma. He’s great company
too; eloquent, loquacious, exceptionally bright and quick witted, even when
he’s in his cups.
“
It must be a mixed blessing having Rhys in the band?” I ask fellow-vocalist
Mick Hilton.
“
Nah, we knew what to expect,” he says. “It’s a blast having
him along.”
The thing is, though, The Peth is not specifically about Rhys or any of the
others individually. It’s about the friends of Dafydd Ieuan, the drummer
with Super Furry Animals (SFA), of whom Rhys is a mate of 25 years standing.
The Peth is what you’d get if Carlsberg did bands.
“
I wanted to start a band,” says Ieuan. “I realised I’d have
to write a few songs first. Then I thought I’d record them with my mates,
even though they’re not all musicians.”
“
Who the fuck are The Peth?” it says on the merchandise. The core of the
band is Daf, Rhys and Mick, Kris Jenkins, the owner of iconic Cardiff recording
studio Wings for Jesus, and Dic Ben.
Daf confirms as myth the notion that Ifans was ever the vocalist of an embryonic
SFA. “Rhys and I shared a house in Cardiff with Bunf (Huw Bunford) and
Guto (Pryce) so he was around when we started. But he was never our vocalist
in any formal sense.”
The 10 songs on the forthcoming album, The Golden Mile, constitute The Peth’s
entire repertoire. That’s not a criticism, mind you, because Daf’s
writing is a testament to the depth of talent in the Super Furry well. This
unpretentious, regular bloke has turned out 10 cracking tunes first time around.
The set veers between retro psychedelic pop and muscular stoner rock and the
band delivers it all without titles or banter, leaving the crowd without an
encore despite wild approval.
“
It’s sounded quite polished at times,” Ieuan reflects. “At
other times it’s sounded a bit chaotic, and then it’s sounded both
polished and chaotic at the same time.”
That’s not entirely surprising given the players have only a handful
of gigs under their collective belt. But their joyful, rambunctious delivery
far outweighs any technical shortcomings. This is the sound of fun.
“
There was never a plan to play live,” says Ieuan, who plays guitar in
the live incarnation. “Kris and I are really the only musicians. Mick,
Rhys and Dic don’t actually play anything so we had to expand to a 10-piece
for the live shows.”
Ieuan has cast his characters wisely. Singer Dionne Bennett from the band Shubeen
adds a soul vibe. Top session drummer Arrun Ahmun drives the thing, while brothers
Osh and Mei Gwynedd from rock band Sibrydion lend some depth on keyboards and
guitar respectively. Holding things together unobtrusively at the back is SFA
bassist Guto Pryce. The ensemble actually becomes an 11-piece when Les Morrison
does a turn on banjo at the end of one number.
It’s early morning in Cwmaman and the aftershow party is fizzling out.
I’m saying my goodbyes when Gail Jones appears by my side. Being a bit
pissed, I can’t stop myself asking Rhys what was wrong with Rich and
Gail’s flat.
“
Oh Martin!” Gail kicks me.
Rhys considers the question and Gail’s reaction for a moment and with
a hurt expression quips back, “There was nothing wrong with it. I got
dumped before I could do anything about it. Thanks a lot for bringing that
up.”
“
Oh f**k!” I splutter. “I’m sorry, mate. I didn’t mean
to…”
But he’s got me in a bear hug and he slaps me on the back.
I think this confirms he’s winding me up and there’s not too much
need to worry about him.
The Golden Mile is out now on Strangetown Records Inc. Go to www.thepeth.com
for
more information.
Photography by Mei Lewis (missionphotographic.com)
Let’s go f***ing mental
Martin Wilding hangs out with Rhys Ifans, Dafydd Ieuan and their new band, The Peth