Pesda Bohemia

Not Us

Back in the mid-eighties we had quite a thriving bohemian community around Bethesda. Aside from the old Baptist chapel we converted into an art gallery and workshops under the aegis of the Association of Artists & Designers in Wales [AADW], there were independent artists, musicians, poets, writers, photgraphers and film-makers all working from the precincts of this small town and its satellite villages; a scene repeated in other communities throughout the region: activity and activism paired in a concentrated locus.

There was the annual rock festival, Pesda Roc; attracting thousands each year to a maes somewhere in the town, featuring bands supported and promoted by the late John Peel on the BBC, some of whom are still playing to audiences today.

We held annual exhibitions of art at the chapel, as well as hosting performance pieces and interactive events - our local film society held regular screenings there, including an extraordinary 3D movie and immersive sculpture experience: short of ideas and creativity we were not: money, maybe.

One particular, beautiful little success was Radio Pesda. A group of us decided to try our hand at a local pirate radio station. We decided that transmitting on FM would be easy enough to Bethesda, Gerlan and Rachub via a low-power transmitter situated across the valley.

A number of people signed up to present programmes and a running-list was drawn up for a weekly transmission: dates, times and reception frequency passed around by word of mouth. Al Moores was essentially our local John Peel, presenting a superbly eclectic mix of blues, soul, folk and the rather more outré stuff we listened to at the time.

The modus operandi was simple, indeed crude. All the shows were recorded on cassette tape and passed to the broadcast crew, headed by Silicon Mick - I can't remember who else was involved - and taken at the appointed hour to a field in Mynydd Llandegai. The transmitter was a small affair, dwarfed by the car battery they used to lug up there to power it for the several hours the programme aired. It worked. Gloriously.

We knew it was illegal, and that to be caught would have involved heavy fines, simply for transmitting without a licence, never mind the copyright and royalty violations; but it was an encapsulation of community spirit and the shared love of music that motivated it. The hint of outlaw chic helped, too.