“Little Fluffy Clouds Over Bethesda: The Orb Land at Neuadd Ogwen”
- Desh Kapur
- 11 hours ago
- 2 min read
Neuadd Ogwen, Bethesda May 9th, 2025
WORDS AND IMAGES DESH KAPUR
“Little Fluffy Clouds Over Bethesda: The Orb Land at Neuadd Ogwen”
When The Orb touched down in the mountain-wrapped village of Bethesda on May 9th, the locals may have heard more than just sheep bleating — they were treated to deep dub echoes, ambient bliss, and enough bass to rattle the slate off nearby rooftops. The iconic electronic duo turned the intimate Neuadd Ogwen into a cosmic launchpad, proving that even in 2025, there’s still no party like an Orb party.
The venue, a community arts centre nestled in the old chapel of Bethesda, is more used to folk gigs and poetry nights. But on this particular evening, it throbbed with psychedelic visuals, blinking lights, and a crowd of grinning revellers who looked like they’d wandered in from a 1992 Glastonbury field and simply never left. And honestly? We were all the better for it.
Alex Paterson / Michael Rendall, Orb captains and sonic mischief-makers, led the way through a set that was equal parts nostalgia and invention. “Little Fluffy Clouds,” of course, drew euphoric whoops — some from people who remembered hearing it the first time round, others from younger fans just thrilled by the surreal sample of Rickie Lee Jones talking about Arizona skies over a bubbling ambient house beat.
Tracks from their recent work flowed effortlessly alongside the classics. Deep dub cuts reminded us just how ahead of their time The Orb really were — long before “lo-fi chill beats to relax/study to” became an algorithmic genre, they were crafting longform audio dreams that felt like being hugged by sound.
The crowd was a beautiful mix: ravers, dads in Orb t-shirts older than some attendees, a smattering of North Walian hipsters, and the obligatory guy with glowsticks who was clearly having a time. At one point, the fog machine kicked in so heavily that someone near the front shouted, “I think I just saw God.” Could’ve been the lasers though. Or just really good mid-tempo acid house.
In between tunes, Paterson and Rendall bobbed behind his desk of dials like a wizards tweaking a spell, smiling wryly as loops collided and melted into each other. There wasn’t much in the way of banter — The Orb let the music speak, warp, and mutate — but who needs stage patter when you’ve got sub-bass that could medically re-align your spine?
By the end of the night, Neuadd Ogwen felt less like a village venue and more like a temporary outpost of Planet Orb. Fans drifted out dazed but happy, ears ringing and minds expanded. It was a night where time bent, beats bloomed.
If you ever get the chance to see The Orb live — whether in a massive festival field or a snug village hall surrounded by mountains — don’t miss it. This isn’t just a concert. It’s a portal. Bring earplugs, an open mind, and a fondness for the wonderfully weird.
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