here we go, it's tricky to rock a rhyme that's right on time

Cerys Jones always wanted to be someone. No, it was more she wanted to do something good in the world. For her there was so much wrong, that a little right took on a lot of meaning. It was no surprise to anyone in her small Welsh village when she left for Cardiff to study law. As a law student, she found herself invested in human rights and, even more so, in the fight for liberation and independence of other nations. Partially, it had to do with being Welsh; she, herself, wanted to see her own country declare their sovereign right, but it also had to do with what was right. As the 70s progressed, and she qualified, she found herself increasingly interested and fascinated by the Apartheid movement in South Africa. How was it, she wanted to know, that South Africa continued to follow such a horrific model while all the other states around it abolished their awful regimes. South Africa, and fighting racial injustice, became her reason and she threw herself so deeply into the pursuit of her passion it was even less of a surprise when she announced she was moving to Durban, South Africa.

While there, Cerys joined in the legal pursuit of abolishing Apartheid and in doing so, she met Louis Odendaal - an Afrikaans journalist documenting the struggle to rid his nation of such a vile institutionalised regime. She worked with Howard Schwarz and along the way, she fell in love with Louis. It was a difficult time to be in love, however, and compounded by their commitments to championing a new way of life. Cerys was never one for the spotlight and her joy was in the legal studies, biases and protections she could offer those fighting the system. It was difficult, however, because of the opposition - South Africa suffered a tumultuous, fractured period with the unlawful and wrongful detainment of key, vocal activists and increased surveillance and political mud-slinging toward those who were seen as sympathetic to the change she championed. As a foreigner, she wasn't considered to have as much "weight", but she battled on and South Africa became her home.

Nearly six years after she arrived, Louis and Cerys married in Johannesburg and shortly thereafter, she fell pregnant. On an unseasonably warm April morning she gave birth to twin boys, one of who she named Dafydd. Wales, though faraway and long gone, was still part of her and she felt it in her bones. She gave her children Welsh names because she wanted them to feel that same connection, even if she was unsure they would ever know Wales. Dafydd was a happy baby, in contrast to his more vocal twin. He was quiet and introspective, more interested in the world around him as a whole. Friends joked that the twins were the angel and the devil, one baby good and the other, well, ... a baby. It changed as they grew up, however, with Dafydd becoming more confident and his twin more introverted. Even to this day Cerys wonders if she mixed them up one day. Daf's childhood was idyllic. The family lived in a secure compound, but the wide, open spaces of Durban with its dusty landscapes and infinite green were his playground. The twins were learning to talk when a sister was born and it was that moment when the life he was supposed to have changed.

Louis's parents -- Daf's grandparents -- died in a car accident and left the family stranded in terms of help. Rhian was nearly two and the twins were closing in on four. Cerys felt overloaded and was still suffering, however undiagnosed, post-partum. She felt isolated in South Africa, especially not working and as Apartheid was hitting critical mass, she no longer felt it was safe for the children. In the years that would come, Cerys would look back on this as one of the hardest decisions she ever made and one that she regrets -- she asked to leave South Africa. Louis, aware that his wife hadn't been home in nearly a decade, agreed even though he felt their fight had so much more left and needed them. They agreed they would try and take the news to the rest of the world and Louis applied relentlessly for positions back in the UK where he could cover African news. Eventually, he was taken on by the Times as the African correspondent and the family was packed up. Daf was five and he skinned his knees when he tried to run away because he wanted to stay.

His adjustment to Wales came quickly, however, and while he missed the warm days he found an ally in his brother. The twins had always been insperable, but they were each other's shadows after the move and as the boys grew up that didn't change. Eager for the boys to develop their own personalities outside of masquerading as one another, Cerys enrolled them in a variety of activities separate of one another. She didn't want either of them to lose their identity. Daf was given the piano and he was good -- prodigially good. He excelled not just out of natural talent, but because he was disciplined. Daf was happy his parents were so pleased with him and he liked the sound the piano made. His free time was consumed by piano and all of his other sports and activities fell away as he advanced in his ability.

His young teens were marked by performances and he often spent time with his father in London, as Louis had to maintain a residence there for reporting. While close to his father, Daf missed his mum and brother (less so his little sister) when he was away for recitals and auditions. He missed his friends, too, and as his youth gave way to being a proper teenager he started to resent his talent. He was tired of the word prodigy and not interested in performing in the same way he had been when he was younger. He wanted to experiment and find something new to define himself by. Where it once had been in being a twin he defined himself, he replaced it with being a pianist. Too much of anything was never good. As Daf was such a well-behaved boy his parents had no trouble letting him go abroad for a summer as a student exchange in France. Daf loved France and came back with new interests in music, art and food, as well as passable French. He still played the piano, but it became more for fun. Christmas mornings were always full of the family drinking shandy and belting out the hits with him on piano and it is a tradition the family maintains to this day.

After finishing school, he applied for the University of Manchester to study music. His talent with piano was enough that he wanted to pursue a career in it. While he enjoyed modern composition, Daf was interested mostly in classical music and he was particularly taken by orchestra. He thought he wanted to pursue becoming a conductor when he enrolled. After a year in the programme, he was unsure so he decided to go on the ERASMUS programme to study abroad once more in France. This time, he made his way to Provence rather than Brittany and that year became his defining moment: he was an actualised person. Drugs, smoking, drinking and hedonism coloured the year, but he managed to keep up pretense with his friends and family back home. He'd never been one to go off the rails, so no one thought it possible he'd ever put a toe out of line. When he returned to the UK, however, he was changed and everyone knew.

After finishing university with high marks, he moved to London with his twin where he hoped to pursue music. He played as a backing pianist for a fair share of shows, joined the Barbican as a session player and lent his skills to a few sessions for recordings. He also taught piano and guitar to children, while beginning to take more lessons in percussions and strings himself. He spent time writing his own compositions and was considering moving to Berlin to study operatic composition when his twin handed him a flyer for a fellow offering his talents as a musician. It'd be a long running joke he should start a band, but Daf always felt too measured, too even, too uncool to be a rockstar. His own compositions were mostly of the singer-songwriter variety when he performed, but he had gotten into electronica and musical production in the last few years - mostly due to the influence of living in Shoreditch and the people he fell in with.

It was the chance flyer that gave him his first band mate and from there, two more joined before the band was formed in 2008. The next few years they sustained themselves through odd jobs and mucking about before mainstream success thrust them into the spotlight in 2013 with the singles Pompeii, Bad Bood, and Things we Lost in the Fire charting up on the UK charts. It was madness for him. One night, he was just a regular guy struggling to make it in London, but now he was a Musician. It's a world away from what he sought out to do, but he is enjoying the whirlwind of performance and is not taking his chance for granted. The band works hard and put in long hours, mostly in thanks to the same discipline that saw him achieve success as a child. He is increasingly more interested in musical production and looking to add it to his resume in the coming years.