Gwenno's debut album, Y Dydd Olaf, was a magical listening experience that took elements of
Broadcast's precise electropop,
Stereolab's trance-inducing easy listening, the heady drive of '70s German artists like
Can, and loads of haunted ambience from the Ghost Box stable of artists, then filtered them through
Gwenno's sweet melodies and mystical lyrics. She sang mostly in Welsh, but the last song on the record was sung in Cornish, a nearly vanished language she had learned as a child. The experience resonated deeply with her and she decided that her second album,
Le Kov, would be sung entirely in Cornish, with the songs serving as a tribute to the culture and history of Cornwall and its people. She went back to the studio with producer Rhys Edwards and the duo set about crafting a sound that was similar to that of her debut, but with a little more punch in some areas, a little more mystery in others. There wasn't a song on Y Dydd Olaf as catchy and simple as the bouncy duet with
Gruff Rhys, "Daromres Y'n Howl," or one as epic and deep as "Den Heb Taves." They layer guitars, synthesizers, piano, and drums in a very psychedelic manner throughout, keeping things murky and warm like a humid summer night.
Gwenno adds her vocals on top of the mix in a number of ways, intoning breathily ("Hy a Skoellyas Lyf a Dhagrow"), cooing sweetly ("Jynn-Amontya"), billowing in wispy clouds of harmony and reverb ("Aremorika"), and sometimes adding some bite ("Eus Keus?") or melancholy yearning ("Koweth Ker") to the proceedings. While the diverse musical settings she and Edwards cook up for each song are impressive,
Gwenno's vocals are a dream throughout. It's clear that she feels strongly about the words she is singing, and she inhabits every song fully. The music, words, and voice come together on
Le Kov like fragments of the past put back together and made into a satisfying new whole that works as a lovely tribute to Cornish culture, while also solidifying
Gwenno's place as an important artist. ~ Tim Sendra