Psychobilly Gavin and Stacey
To the Editor,
I write to you from a curious place of festive delight and personal bewilderment, having spent the holidays caught between the record-breaking triumph of the Gavin and Stacey Christmas Special, and my own unexpected infatuation with the raucous, foot-stomping genre known as psychobilly music.
First, let us celebrate Gavin and Stacey. Twelve million viewers! Twelve million! That’s practically the population of Wales and Essex combined, all gathered around their televisions to discover whether Uncle Bryn’s turkey brining technique is indeed as revolutionary as he claims. A staggering achievement, though I confess I only caught the second half after an impromptu psychobilly playlist distracted me from the opening scenes. I understand there was a reference to "what happened on the fishing trip," but I remain none the wiser, as my thoughts were elsewhere — specifically, on how to decipher the lyrics to The Meteors’ "Wreckin’ Crew."
Now, here lies my confusion: what on earth possessed me to fall headlong into psychobilly during the season of mince pies and mistletoe? This is a genre that combines rockabilly, punk, and a healthy dose of horror-movie absurdity — essentially the musical equivalent of Pam and Mick Shipman hosting a séance in their kitchen. And yet, as Gavin and Stacey warmed the hearts of the nation, I was headbanging to a song about zombie motorcycles.
I can’t help but wonder if these two events are somehow cosmically linked. Could it be that Gavin and Stacey’s extraordinary blend of comedy and nostalgia opened a portal in my brain, allowing the psychobilly spirit to take hold? Or perhaps it’s simpler: Dave Coaches’ sideburns subconsciously reminded me of the rockabilly aesthetic, sending me spiralling into the arms of The Cramps and Demented Are Go.
Of course, this newfound love comes with challenges. My attempts to play psychobilly tracks at family gatherings were met with polite concern and one rather pointed suggestion to "stick on a bit of Michael Bublé instead." Meanwhile, my nephew, a diehard Gavin and Stacey fan, expressed confusion when I asked if Nessa might secretly be a fan of Reverend Horton Heat.
And so, I find myself in a curious place this Christmas: caught between the cozy world of Gavin and Stacey, where even a plate of omelettes can spark joy, and the wild, chaotic energy of psychobilly, where screaming guitars and upright bass lines rattle your soul. Perhaps, like Gavin and Stacey themselves, I am straddling two worlds, trying to reconcile the familiar and the unexpected.
For now, I shall embrace both. May 2025 bring us another Christmas special and a psychobilly revival, ideally at the same time. I’d pay good money to hear Bryn and Nessa duet on "Human Fly."
Yours, somewhere between Barry Island and a mosh pit,
Regina Rockabilly-Smythe
(Part-time sitcom fan, full-time psychobilly convert)