I’m writing today’s column in the utterly brilliant Cwrw Bar in Carmarthen, where owner Matt is playing some exhilarating stuff in his “Tangled Parrot” record shop upstairs, while I sit and write this in the downstairs venue where I had a cracking gig last night (Thursday). 

I’m on my second tour of Wales in six months and the previous night was in Le Pub in Newport, a lovely, friendly community space which, like Cwrw, is the beating heart of its town’s underground cultural scene.  
 
An independent music venue makes such a difference to any town or city, but especially to smaller communities where it is often the only place of refuge for those who choose to live life outside the mainstream. 

Such a presence provides an incentive for bands to form, for aspirant singer songwriters, poets, spoken word artists and comics to try their material out in public; for visual artists to exhibit their work; and for micro-breweries to strut their stuff. It’s a vital ingredient anywhere, and is so often lacking – forcing people to cobble together events in unsuitable spaces, stifling creativity and strangling dreams.
 
And when such a space has existed, and is ripped away at the whim of a property developer or a clueless council whose idea of “culture” is restricted to the polarities of the Royal Ballet and Love Island, the effect is devastating. 

For years I lived in Harlow Newtown in Essex, where The Square provided not just a refuge for the local alternative scene but a regular place on the touring circuit for bands from elsewhere. It was absolutely brilliant, and now it’s a car park. Not even flats, which is what usually happens – a sodding car park. 

Its fate is absolutely disgusting and this is happening over and over again as venues made vulnerable by the pandemic and the sheer poverty of so many potential audience members are bought by property developers and destroyed. 
 
And so, as someone who has earned his living in such venues for over 40 years and has witnessed this cultural catastrophe at close hand, I want to salute the work of the Music Venue Trust, who are doing everything possible to redress the balance by providing advice and financial support to this vital part of our culture. Please support their efforts at musicvenuetrust.com.
 
To finish my column today, sitting in his local in Carmarthen, I want to salute my old friend Dave Datblygu, pioneering genius of the Welsh language underground music scene, whose 40th anniversary triple CD retrospective compilation is released by Ankst Records on March 1 – St David’ Day. Terfysgiaith 1982-2022 is available from ankstmusik.bandcamp.com
 
He sadly died during lockdown, and we were friends for nearly 40 years. Dave was indeed the patron saint of this venue and of a new vision of Wales and its language: his incredible, surreal, melodically atonal Frank-Sinatra-meets-The Fall observations on Welsh life, love and language have provided inspiration for so many following in his footsteps.
 
And the finest and newest of all those is a young, spirited, anthemic all-women punk band called Adwaith (React) who formed in this very venue not long ago, a testament to everything I have said about the hugely important role such places play in the development of our culture. Check them out at adwaithmusic.bandcamp.com.
 
I’m off to Aberystwyth Museum for my Friday gig after finishing this, and as you read this at the weekend I’ll be in Narberth Queen’s Hall on Saturday and the Prince Albert in Stroud – another wonderful, vital venue – on my way home on Sunday. 

And next week I’ll be putting the finishing touches to my new EP, Industrial Language, a collaboration with composer Sherlock and a tribute to the mighty Laibach, my inspiration for 40 years. 
 
Take care everybody.