It was fun to take a trip down memory lane for the latest Radyr Chain! I wrote a short piece about my musical memories growing up in Radyr and Morganstown: from playing with the (then) Melingriffith band in the Old Church Rooms to maypole dancing at the festival and how that’s all shaped my music!
Radyr, Morganstown, and Music: Cornets, Choirs, and Childhood
If you grew up in Radyr and Morganstown in the 1990s or early 2000s, you’ll have your own memories of village life. Maybe it was racing up the golf club hill, exploring the woods around our imposing water tower, taking part in the Radyr Fun Run, or picking strawberries at Gelynis Farm. Whatever your experience, Radyr and Morganstown has probably left you with a strong sense of nostalgia – with a hint of lasting affection for the place!
Many of my own childhood memories are tied to music. I can still hear the Melingriffith Brass Band rehearsing in the Old Church Rooms, and can vividly remember the atmosphere of the Radyr and Morganstown May Festival. Music was a big part of my childhood: singing in the school choir, performing with the Radyr Big Band, and even touring Paris with them. Not to make it all sound too grandiose, but those experiences really have stayed with me.
Looking back, I can see just how much those early musical experiences shaped the path I went on to take. Today, I am a classical composer, with my music published and performed internationally. From performances by the BBC National Orchestra of Wales in Cardiff to concerts in San Diego to Germany and South Korea. My music is often rooted in storytelling and space and place, and in recent years, I’ve found myself reflecting more on the sounds, places, and experiences that defined my childhood.
I remember rehearsals with the Melingriffith Brass Band in the Old Church Rooms, where I played cornet. I can still picture myself sitting in the back row of the cornet section, coats and instrument cases piled high on the stage behind the band, with music swirling around the hall’s ceilings. I returned to the Old Church Rooms recently for a wreath-making class, the first time I’d been back in many years. The building has been beautifully renovated, but as soon as I stepped inside, I was struck by a powerful sense of familiarity. Despite the changes, the character of the space remained, and with it came a flood of memories. I could almost hear the Olympic Spirit by John Williams (a Melingriffith Band favourite of mine). It was a reminder of how deeply places can hold our stories, and how the sounds and experiences of childhood continue to resonate long after we leave them behind.
I had piano lessons just around the corner from my house and trumpet lessons down by the station. At the time, successfully learning scales and pieces almost felt like mini-milestones in a weekly routine (although I’m sure my parents would perhaps challenge this – I would imagine they felt I did everything other than practice. They may be right… but that’s not this article). Looking back, these lessons shaped my early musical understanding and it is so lovely to think about how the skills first learned in a neighbour’s front room in Radyr have travelled with me into concert halls, cathedrals, and festivals around the world.
The Radyr and Morganstown Festival is another vivid childhood memory. I can still remember the nervous anticipation of waiting in Radyr Methodist Church before we were due to cross the road and perform a maypole dance. I can almost feel the excitement mixed with chaotic energy backstage before I, inevitably, got all my ribbons tangled. Those who know me well will be amused to hear that dancing the maypole was part of my childhood; they will readily confirm that dancing has never been one of my talents. Nevertheless, it was an experience that brought people together and gave me a sense of belonging to something.
As I grew older, music continued to be a constant presence and a comfort blanket for me. Like many teenagers though I’m not sure I appreciated what I had at the time. School choirs, orchestra, and big band rehearsals did not necessarily read as traditionally ‘cool’, but they were where I made some my longest lasting friendships and I am so very grateful for the safe and fun spaces they gave me. I can now also see that they gave me a real confidence as well as a place where I could create something alongside other people. They taught me that music is not simply about performance; it is about community, collaboration, and shared experience.
When I was thirteen, I had the incredible opportunity to join the children’s chorus for a touring production of Otello with the Welsh National Opera. At the time, I was mostly excited by the novelty of it all and the opportunity to miss quite a bit of school and travel around the UK on tour with my friends – it was really fun. What this really was, was my first real glimpse into the world of professional music-making. To stand alongside professional singers, musicians, and production teams and witness the extraordinary effort that goes into bringing a performance to life was a formative experience. It remains one of those core childhood memories that helped shape some of the decisions I would go on to make.
Today, my work as a composer is rooted in storytelling. Every piece begins with a simple idea of a place, a story, a memory, a person, or a question that I want to explore through music. I have written music inspired by history, landscapes, literature, personal experiences, politics, and whatever stories I tell, they are inevitably filtered through my own perspective and experiences. So, in that sense, Radyr and Morganstown are never very far away. The places where we grow up leave their mark on us in countless subtle ways: the sounds of brass bands rehearsing our community hall, festival celebrations, school concerts, living room music lessons, and village traditions all become part of who we are.
I’d like to hope that my music is my music because it carries within it traces of those early experiences. Somewhere in its DNA are the sounds, spaces, and memories of Radyr and Morganstown which is a village that has nurtured a love of music, creativity, and community long before I could have imagined where that journey might lead.