Caught by the River

Pleasures of……April

3rd May 2010

Fionn Regan, Heavenly recording artist and big fan of Dylan Thomas, played a dream gig at the Laugharne festival last month:

The Laugharne weekend was an absolute pleasure. The festival itself is wonderful, Bill Drummond was a highlight. I can strongly recommend a restaurant called The Green Room and a B&B called The Boathouse… and of course a visit to The Boathouse itself.

The soundtrack for the trip was Meridian 1970 Vol. II, the book in my case was The White Goddess by Robert Graves (as well as on old copy of Dylan Thomas poems) anyway, what you find here has been transcribed from my moleskin notebook, as I wrote it.

Since then I’ve been recording demos morning noon & night, mainly night.

If you’d like to go to Laugharne for the festival next year I recommend you start booking now, and bring a road map…

Pleasures of… Laugharne / a stream of words

9/4/10 We take a wrong turn at Aberystwyth now rallying through a stretch of howling mountains Cefn Crowes Bryn Llychese the river Wye sun beaming on full bars I wink to the white wooden crosses in corners of hunchbacked fields I sing to the sheep spirits & fox bones on doorsteps all the while in my head composing a song titled “The road to Porthmadog” I laugh out loud imagining it in a high pitch nasal voice.

The curtain of night is falling fast & every winged map of Wales has flown the collective retailers nest so in Llangurig at a petrol station inquiries are made to a man with facial expression lines that mirror the surrounding terrain blessed with a tight grip on the road reigns he steers us back on course

Hours later we are still turning the whispering elbow twists of roads arriving in Laugharne where the voices of the crowd assembled crash against the castles’ shoulders our spirits are lifted the castle stands towering over the estuary as the night sings to the river Taf with such fluency & eloquence that even the drowned ghosts of the cockle industry begin to waltz

We source a public house & perch in the whistling fireside window I hear the hinge bend before the house hound attacks us I leap onto a sniggering bar stool and without introduction sing a few bars of “The road to Porthmadog” ending with a plain “Heel” & with that the situation steadies & blossoms to the extent that we exchange numbers re-cork the wine & exit vowing continued correspondence

10/4/10 Tonight I play at a The Congregational Church afterwards in The Three Mariners the fruit machine cackles with a plastic laughter I use my suitcase as a shield as I pass I take a seat a woman continually sits on my knee between pool shots I flick open my marbled suitcase to release the trapped light spilling to the street double dragon double vision in thought I go to the water to watch the sunrise in reality it only rises in my dreams

11/4/10 Today I play at The Boathouse where Dylan Thomas once resided it’s an honour and a privilege to be sat performing in the room where Dylan slept and dreamt I’m sure the overtones of his dreams have woven their way into the wound steel of the guitar strings later upon reflection of the event I light up to the point that the Kish lighthouse tips its hat & bows
12/4/10 Now leaving the swans mouth of Laugharne I hope I have brought something to the proceedings if only a flint to light The Captains pipe

(photos taken by Laura)