Utopia

Songs that feel tantalisingly and really quite brilliantly caught between the factual lived reality and some sort of a distorted imaginary twist of it: is the latter song about the literal devil, or a more mundane personification of a devil fond of lies, empty promises and manipulation? Who knows, and it’s in these tantalising grey areas that Utopia really shines.

It's an eclectic yet assured record that sounds like someone taking stock but using that solid foundation as a springboard to leap forward musically. [Aug 2025, p.31]

It makes for an excellent reintroduction to an artist who proves that her music knows no boundaries, be that linguistic or otherwise.

Opener ‘London’ carries the ethereal quality of a psychedelic haze, beckoning listeners into Gwenno’s world of underground campfires and whispered wizardry. ‘Dancing on Volcanoes’, the delightfully playful lead single.

Cate Le Bon and H. Hawkline join Gwenno for the spiky, feline Y Gath, sliced between the celestial ballad Utopia and the windswept desolation of War. Finally, on airy closer Hireth, the album seems to take off out of the city streets and into an otherworldly reverie, delicately strung together with harp and flute.

Her naturalistic voice is a relaxed conduit to elegantly detailed songs about the psychogeography of er native Cardiff (Ghosts Of You), expectant motherhood (St Ives New School) and Jarvis Cocker dancing stylishly alone (kitchen sink pop jangling Dancing ON Volcanoes). [Aug 2025, p.79]

‘Utopia’ has its limitations. The retro/out-of-time musical architecture feels a bit familiar, although magical closer ‘Hireth’ is a singular highlight. Nonetheless, there’s heady magic to be found herein, if a touch less so than on its creator’s truly otherworldly previous works.