“A eus le rag hwedhlow dyffrans?” So goes the first track on Le Kov, the second album by Welsh singer Gwenno Saunders. But it isn’t Welsh: it’s Cornish, a minority language spoken by fewer than a thousand people. The line translates as “is there room for different stories?” – and this is the question at the heart of her record, which celebrates variance in language, culture and identity.

The song goes on to hymn the importance of hearing from “the ones who didn’t win”. And on the surface of things, the Cornish language clearly lost the fight: the last monoglot speaker died in 1777. Yet Saunders’ album, a dreamy, lush piece of psych-pop, is one of many signs of new life.

Britain is rich in minority languages, and there’s a growing awareness of them, possibly reflecting our desire – as culture grows ever-more globalised – to re-connect with what is local, or simply to celebrate the multicultural melting pot of British identity.

Welsh is the best known and most-spoken minority language, but there are also three distinct versions of Gaelic, spoken in Scotland, Ireland and the Isle of Man. All have seen long-term declining numbers of speakers – but all have also enjoyed revivals in recent decades, thanks to a slow-burn interest in preserving and promoting indigenous tongues.