From the outset, the amalgamation of Mali Hâf‘s poignant, cutting lyricism, electronic beats (even when I didn’t quite understand the Welsh lyrics), and Hâf’s ability to tell stories totally enraptures the audience and transcends the fabric of language. I felt as though I could still gauge everything Hâf intended to convey in her Welsh lyrics due to the limitless supply of energy and presence she brought. The front row was recalling her lyrics, and the whole room seemed to be hooked, only looking away to grab their ‘phones and record her innovative set. Hâf has made her powerhouse vocals known imminently; her timbre I can only describe as high-definition and impeccable, even if the drums’ attack did overpower the volume on occasion.
As someone mad on killer guitar riffs and solos, I was initially apprehensive about the lack of guitars on stage, being just a drummer, bassist, and Mali Hâf. However, as someone who also appreciates the overly criticised and, in my opinion, deeply poetic art of electronic music, this eclectic ensemble of her folky Celtic foundations and the electronic beats was like something I’d never heard live before. Hâf did well to redefine what Welsh music is and can be if people gave it a chance; ‘Araf’, played a few songs in, was a particular favourite. Alternative R&B flavours were running through with a catchy electronic beat infrastructure for the song’s duration. The song had a synth texture, and it had a yearning tone to it, which only contributed to Hâf’s ethereal mysticism. The ambience was enhanced dramatically by the mist and colourful lighting, tailored strategically to align with her lyrics and the emotion of the set. Layered with gut-wrenching lyrics seen in the likes of ‘someone change the mirrors’ which confronts difficult themes, the performance was a credit to the iconic rockhouse Clwb Ifor Bach, infamous for nurturing homegrown acts.
Anyone wanting to support smaller Welsh artists en route to redefine and redirect the Celtic music scene, she is one to watch.
