Pitchfork

Europe is full of old languages, tucked away in corners and mountains, spoken by people who often don't quite have independent nations of their own, but who nonetheless take a national pride in their heritage of words and syntax. Euskara (Basque) in Spain, Romansch in Switzerland, Flemish in Belgium, Friulian in Italy, Breton in France, Yiddish in pockets of Central Europe, and Cornish and Welsh in the UK are among the most popular regional tongues. In a world where just a few languages dominate the global media (and let's face it, English dominates more than any other), speaking one of these languages practically requires bilingualism, and there is legitimate fear that some of them could die in the coming century.

As much as I like the idea of easy intercommunication, that thought saddens me, because though we can translate from one language to another, the meaning of certain phrases, puns, and proverbs is unique and untransferable-- check the way we slip into French every time we talk about that unsettling feeling that something has happened before. That's why I like to see Euros Childs including a couple of Welsh songs on an otherwise English album-- it's a reminder that communication is a diverse thing, and honestly, it sounds like he's more at home or at least having more fun singing in Welsh.

Welsh is pretty well-represented as far as minority languages are concerned in popular music, as Super Furry Animals have sold Welsh-language albums to international audiences, and the Welsh-language rock scene has produced a couple of genuine icons, particularly Meic Stevens, who only conceded to English on a single record. Childs has plenty of experience switching between Welsh and English as well-- his band Gorky's Zygotic Mynci did it all the time, even in its band name. ("mynci" being Welsh for "monkey"). One of my favorites from that band was The Blue Trees EP's "Sbia Ar Y Saren".

The two substantial Welsh songs on this album ("Cynhaeaf" is just a snippet) are among the best. "Downsio Dros Y Mor" is the finest of them all, moving from its solo acoustic intro into an exuberant harmonized verse supported by basic drumming. The chorus has a catchy, tumbling melody that makes wonderful use of Childs' reedy pipes, adding a dash of Farfisa for extra sunshine. "Hi Mewn Socsau" is old-school rock'n'roll, with pounding piano and a little fuzz bass supporting the ooh-aah backing vocal and Childs' lead vocal coming across a little like ELO's Jeff Lynne.

Of the English-language tracks, "Circus Time" is beautiful British folk with a marvelous, keening fiddle part playing counterpoint to Childs, while "Costa Rita" slathers a pastoral backing track with gooey, rich harmonies for a perfect end-of-the-season vibe. While a couple other songs have their moments, none really live up to that level, especially "Donkey Island", which pushes its melody into awkward corners to accommodate the completely forgettable lyric. The album's overall flow and structure is decidedly disjointed, with a scattering of tiny, demo-quality tracks adding virtually nothing to the record. The eight-minute "First Time I Saw You" could be a nice, slowly simmering folk jam, but it's hampered for minutes at a time by a nagging synth loop that buzzes like a prolonged fart at the very top of the mix.

For a first solo record, Chops sounds frustratingly unfocused, coming across more like a vault-clearing exercise than a true statement. Multiple demo snippets and half-songs offer little more than padding to get things fleshed up to 33 minutes (I'd love to hear the faux-country song "My Country Girl" fully arranged, for instance), and it all sails by in a flash, leaving just a handful of lasting impressions.