Interview in The Times 25th August 1998

What are four blokes (and a girl) from Tenby doing in Manhattan? Leading the Welsh invasion, of course. Or not, if they are Gorky's Zygotic Mynci. Charlie Porter reports

The night before we met in New York, Gorky's Zygotic Mynci played a sold-out gig at the Knitting Factory in Manhattan, The adverts billed Gorky's, who were playing alongside their friends the Super Furry Animals, as headlining "a Welsh invasion" of the city. However, Gorky's with their intricate folkish sound, have so far been the least successful band to emerge from the supposed "Welsh scene" either at home or abroad.

While Catatonia, Stereophonics and the Super Furries have scored chart positions time and time again, Gorky's Zygotic Mynci (the name is meaningless; Mynci pronounced "monkey") have yet to break through. They just failed to reach the Top 40 in 1996 with Patio Song and earlier this year lost out once more with Sweet Johnny. Next week they try again with the new single Let's Get Together (In Our Minds). Perversely, this lack of sales is in direct contrast to the obsessive critical acclaim the five-piece from Tenby have received since they first came to national attention three years ago.

The day after the gig, the band are sitting in a diner on Seventh Avenue opposite their grotty hotel. "I find it patronising to describe it as a Welsh Invasion," says Megan Childs, the 27 year old violinist and sister of singer and keyboard player Euros Childs, 23, "we're part of Britain. No one would say 'here's a new band from England'."

"'New Welsh Invasion' is a load of b****cks," agrees her brother. "It's still the same as it was ten years ago. There have always been great Welsh songwriters." Ten years ago, Euros Childs had already started his career as a songwriter, creating tunes at school in Camarthern with his friend John Lawrence, 23, who plays guitar and shares vocals. "We started doing acoustic stuff when we were 14, and used to come together at weekends and write dirty songs," he recalls.

Slowly, with schoolfriend Richard James, also 23, on bass, the band evolved into their present outfit, completed by Megan and drummer Euros Rowlands, 27.

"When we were rehearsing at school, people used to come and laugh at us," says Euros Childs, "a real bloody good laugh. We were rubbish as well, really bad, so we gave them some light relief. They weren't laughing towards the end because we got very good, like."

Gorky's have released four albums, making their name with 1995's renowned Bwyd Time, and Barafundle in 1996. Since appearing at John Peel's Meltdown festival, the band have been preparing for the release of the quietly stunning new album, Gorky 5, out next month. They are adjusting to their strange position in the public eye; revered, yet also misunderstood.

"I think it's quite rare, when a band gets to do what they want," says Euros Childs. "But we know exactly what we're doing. We're not daft. Every time we do something we work with our instincts." This was obvious on stage at the Knitting Factory. None of the five looked confident, but this didn't prevent them from playing with conviction.
You sense a frustration that they aren't better known. They don't want to be stars, but the critical recognition they have had has yet to translate into sales.

"Someone in the industry was saying to me, 'at least you have the underground mentality'," says Euros Childs, "but that's a load of s**te as well. That's how we started off, but you've got to move on, or else you're going to turn into the Welsh Grateful Dead. It's just a thing of getting a hype around a band, which we don't have. You can't put your finger on it, what makes a band flyer."

In the elitist, fanzine-buying sense, Gorky's are no longer an underground band. But in terms of their work ethic they are. The members see the band as a serious commitment rather than a route to pop stardom. Richard thinks that if they want to create demand, they should leave a longer gap between albums. "It's like when Spititualized came back," he says. "It was an incredible reaction. You just remember back to how they had been treated before, and suddenly they're this legendary band."

The problem is, Gorky's make too many tracks to pull the big-gap trick. "There are too many songs to do one album every three years, we would just waste so much," says Megan. Euros Childs interjects, "It's good to keep going, you enjoy it, but it's your work as well."

As we talk, Gruff from the Super Furries leads his band out of the hotel across the street. Apparently they are spending the day flying around New York in a helicopter. "That's a rock'n'roll band in action, that is" says Euros Childs, fondly. He seems to accept that his school hobby-turned-occupation will never be as glamorous. That's why success will always be difficult for Gorky's. They are aiming for something rare; recognition for their honest heartfelt music, not plaudits for disposable pop.