Hafana brews an uncanny mix of the ancient and modern, as she drives their singular furrow still deeper.

Release Date : 26th September 2025

Label : tak: til

Format : CD / Vinyl / Digital

IN A QUIRKY HAVEN

Another one? Already? Barely 5 minutes since we covered Difrisg on the QT, and here they are again, if this time in the more familiar territory of voice and triple-harp. Or largely so. In the meantime, there has been the leap from self-releasing to finding a well-fitting place on the tak:til imprint, the quirky outlier from Glitterbeat records, a haven for such kindred souls as Brìghde Chaimbeul and Širom, whose latest drops next month.

“Sad Welsh harp pop” may well be what the promo says, but, I’m not going to lie, not all of that synopsis can be trusted, at least not with any conventional understanding. Indeed, such glibness may even put you off, as the one thing this enticing release isn’t, is anything that could ever have troubled the Smash Hits turntable. Yes, it is (in) Welsh, for when language is used, and harp is a dominant feature. I’m not even that sure it is that sad, my initial listening filling me more with glee, like the excitement of looking out onto an early frosty morning, before the world awakes. (Inability to comprehend the Welsh tongue may be a factor in that, so study of the accompanying sleeve notes may well inform that view otherwise.)

FACILITATIVE JIGGERY POKERY

Rather than solo, Cerys Hafana is here joined by a cohort of like-minded individuals, adding additional lustre to the playing. These comprise Amie Huckstep on alto sax, Ursula Harrison on double bass, with occasional drums from Lisa Martin. Hafana (they, them), besides their harp, adds piano and sings. My understanding is that there is also a fair amount of facilitative jiggery pokery ongoing in the studio, so as to give altered textures to the instrumentation. But, rather than sonic gadgetry and FX, this is rather more prosaic: blu-tac is applied to the strings of the harp, so as to dampen the sound, for one.

ROLLING REPETitION

No further ado, let’s dive in. Helynt Ryfeddol is first. With a rolling repetition of harp, it is accompanied by asymmetric taps of percussion. If the harp feels frosty, as Hafana sings, so the tinkling flow of a mountain stream seems to be conjured up. It all feels very elemental, as slow and low foghorn blasts of sax enter. It is all very hypnotic. The purity of the vocal is a constant contrast against the gradual build, as Huckstep adds some counterpoint melody, designed to mimic the Breton ‘kan ha diskan’ style of call and response.

This, and the translation, I learn as I read, grateful for the guidance, as, rather than the jolly winter vista imagined, the song translates to Incredible Ordeal. The sounds of a stream are more those of birdsong, and it is about an old man who paused to listen. By the time he returns home, 350 years have passed and nobody recognises him. It all ends on a glorious unison bass and saxophone motif. The percussion, by the way, is Hafana, using the mainframe of their harp.

O’r Coed (From The Trees) shifts to piano, a repeated chord struck, with occasional billows of sax breaking through. Lower left hand piano notes add some grounding, as a gentle lowing melody teases out from the brass. The left hand then switches to the high end of the keyboard, scattering high notes for Huckstep to mirror. All the while the not quite always the same chord is being struck; every 12th, or is it 13th, strike is marginally higher. This repetitive minimalism can do this, have you counting, and is one of the factors that makes it all so immersive and it could never be background music.

STRIKING GRASP OF CAPABILITIES

The flavour being seamlessly set, Drexelius sees a return to the harp. More repeating complex picking is balanced with notes that are slower and more considered. Drexelius is just a Latin name I understand with relief, able to just enjoy the moment, four minutes well spent, for introspection. Carol Mynydogg, up next, actually is a carol, apparently, an appeal to the seasons to come once more around.

Unaccompanied voice alone to start, it has the most orthodox folk feel yet, saxophone then imbuing some lullaby tones, before the harps beckons a sense of change in the skies. Some bowed bass brings in further structure, and it becomes quite orchestral, with rumbling piano and more lyrical saxophone. It is a striking example of Hafana’s grasp of capabilities, all the more surprising with the context that they and the trio have never before performed together, laying down the album, largely live in the studio, in just four days.

An Dro is the longest track, a frantic melange of all the players and all the available instruments. The insistent rhythm is now from Martin. This has the feel of folk dance, and, once more, it is Breton in construction. The turn it means, and the sweeps and turns of a processional dance are easily imaginable. If the saxophone and bass add a frisson of Blowzabella to the sound, the plucked strings and piano are a world apart, more akin to the work of fellow Welsh harpist, Catrin Finch, with Seckou Keita. It is a triumphant centrepiece.

MAJESTIC DIVERGENCE

Ffarwel I F’Leuenctid is more sombre, showing off the range of the triple harp, possibly part of the classical tradition in Wales. Farewell to my youth, it means, and is a majestic divergence, that would not be out of place in a grand concert hall, St. David’s Hall, maybe, in Cardiff, as opposed to the dance tent of the tune before it, or the more experimental avant-folk jazz club ambience elsewhere. Yet they sit happily together, the trad.arr. with the more demanding modern. This is exemplified by the stringed jangle of 350 Mlynedd, which actually does convey time passing, low piano and bass notes like the fluttering pages of a calendar, vintage Hollywood style, with cymbals crashing like waves. With the title comes the sudden and belated realisation; 350 as in years, that all these pieces are related and part of that same legend introduced in the opening track.

Angel needs no translation, and, as the title track, offers also an “explanation”. Harp and voice make it sound a madrigal, disconcertingly so, before Martin steps on the gas with some brisk percussion, driving away any initial languor. The bass bows gracefully in the basement, before Huckstep’s saxophone blows in an entirely unexpected circular pattern. For a track already up there, with An Dro, as the best here, this is utterly transformative, forgiving the track dropping then back to it’s simpler, spare beginning. Oh, the reveal, did I forget to mention? The singing bird was actually, all along, an angel………

AN ECHO WITHOUT A TRACE

Atsain, which closes this project, for project it is, is a final bout of minimalism, with Huckstep blowing smoky fumes over the repeating harp/piano, as ghostly voices begin to stir in the distance. Offering more a mood to gather your thoughts, the additional sounds get increasingly eerie. As it slows to fade, rather than ending on a final note, it is the distant unaccompanied voice of Hafana that is heard, if briefly. And that’s it. Atsain means echo, and those final words are around leaving no trace, as does an echo. I rather like that.

So sad Welsh harp pop probably it isn’t, but, if you have some time to spare, before the day starts, or after it ends, time alone in yourself, I can think of few better ways to soundtrack that time, as you ponder the imponderable. Mr. Autumn is truly spoiling us this year.

Here’s the opening and introductory piece:

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