Saturday 15/11/08 Day Two, Swn @ Various Venues, Cardiff

As with many urban centres Cardiff’s heritage has long been under attack by the cloned-city effect that creeps around the Welsh capital like the red weed from HG Wells’ War of the Worlds. Café Nero’s and Tesco Metro’s devour everything in sight in the face of a few battle-hardened cultural gladiators fighting for what remains of the city’s unique identity.

Entering the battle last year, Sŵn feels like a maverick general pulling all the troops together to fight the enemy. If so Huw Stephens is a definite Patton-esque figure, directing the battle from the bunkers of the Barfly and the Point. He even orchestrates masterful pincer attacks with the Kaz Bar, Dempsey’s and Clwb Ifor Bach repeatedly pouring out their victims onto to the cobbled trench of Womanby Street after each blistering gig.

It’s early afternoon on Sŵn’s second day and shell-shocked veterans of last night’s never-ending blitzkrieg of gigs are seeking respite at the Tafod. Guto Pryce from Super Furry Animals has set up field hospital on the terrace over-looking the Millennium stadium and is soothing the wounds of the bleary-eyed with a glorious dub-fuelled DJ set. Sŵnsters soak up all the medicine they can take and prepare for the bombardment of the evening.

Zail heroically lead the first attack, laying waste to the Kaz Bar with an onslaught of sound so deadly you half expect Hans Blix to turn up and demand they turn over their WMDs. That this relentless, cacophony of post-rock crescendos and Kyuss-inspired groove is being constructed solely by two people - Sam Arnold and John White from the sorely-missed Mountain Men Anonymous - is frankly even more reason to suspect that the simple drum-guitar front is just a cover to enrich a special blend of Lightning Bolt-induced uranium.

Across the street at Clwb, Adam Walton, hugely-lovely chap and major champion of Welsh music at BBC Radio Wales, has opened a second front, promoting great sets from the Stilletoes and idiosyncratic Klaus Kinski. That Adam also gives us a special appearance by the spectral, adventurous, Ectogram, one of the most severely-underrated Welsh bands, should ensure he’s promoted to four star general before Sŵn’s next surge.

Back at the Kaz Bar and Truckers of Husk are being besieged by a baying crowd eager to catch a glimpse of one of the must-see bands of the weekend. Like all the best sieges, they stand their ground, trusting their Don Caballero and Battles-inspired instincts to fight off the hordes with an incredible, convulsing set. A perfect antidote to Foals’ maths-rock-lite posing, Truckers’ intricate, twisting numbers are bayonet-sharp, descending every now and then into distorted electronics and rhythmic variants, yet never failing to keep grasp of the original, shimmering melody.

At the Barfly the much-hyped Amazing Baby are heading-up a bill that also features Broken Records, Muscle Club and the Last Republic. Friends with Brooklyn neighbours MGMT, they share much of their soaring, narcotic, splendour, but are let down tonight by an unconvincing performance that falls short of the spectre and psychedelic anthemia their ‘Infinite Fucking Cross EP’ promises.

It’s left to Manchester’s Cats in Paris to liven things up, making an entire Clwb audience swoon and twirl in favour of some swirling, majestic pop that would be so lusciously twee if it didn’t enjoy continually shooting-off in epic, proggy directions. The Cats are marvellous and perfectly top off Bethyn Elfin’s BBC Introducing night, before Bethyn herself takes the stage as part of Cardiff’s wondrous Vinyl Vendettas DJ collective.

The Vee Vee’s are incredible as ever, partying as much behind the decks as the maddening crowd they hook onto the dancefloor, they carve up Clwb with a multi-coloured swap-shop of bubblegum pop, classic soul are indie retro. They understand if there’s ever a ‘sound of Cardiff’ it’s halfway between Spillers Records and a classic old 70s Top of the Pop compilation at a car boot sale, and precisely because of this the Vendetta’s are the perfect advert for the city: party mercenaries armed to the teeth with a crate of records and beautiful smiles.