Sunday in El Paniajo

The little dude’s not part of the band….

We thought we’d get out and about this weekend, and a took a trip over the Sierra de los Filabres mountains and down into the valley of a little village called El Marchal, enticed by the promise of Blues, and Chicken Satay!  “El Paniajo” is a lovely little bar by the riverbed in El Marchal, run by Jess and Anne-Marie, and a venue I played solo some years back. I’d visited again recently when showing my Dad around the area, and asked Jess to put me on her mailing list, thus discovering Sunday afternoon’s music and food combo.

The view from the mountain road back down to the coast..

It’s a lovely drive over the mountain, past the village of Bedar, the roadster loving the serpentine road that negotiates both the Southern and northern slopes, dropping down into the village on the other side. It was a sunny afternoon, and the band ( Colores Libres) set up on the huge patio in front of the bar, proceeding to play a number of blues and 60’s classics to a creditable standard. The female vocalist had a voice almost reminiscent of Cleo Lane, quite a low register for a girl. To be honest, if you have a competent band playing, sunshine, a few drinks and a nice meal, is there really any better way to spend an afternoon?

“I believe I can flyyyyyyy….”

La Cosa Nostra

These kind of gigs locally always bring out great characters, it’s one thing I love about the area!

As a musician, its always interesting to note the moments when a band moves from autopilot to flashes of inspiration. The unlikely addition of a passing friend guesting on blues harp for a couple of numbers pushed the guitarist into a series of back and forth exchanges that lifted the band, fleetingly, to another level. Great to see.

Cheers!

The food, was gorgeous! Chicken in a satay sauce served with wild rice, spinach and beautifully roasted red peppers, ensured we’ll be back again soon. If you’re down this way, check out El Paniajo, it’s worth the trip.

Kev Moore

Off Topic: Donkey Breakout!

Zebra….er….Donkey Crossing

There’s always something interesting going off outside our house. in addition to having a wonderful view of the Sierra Cabrera Mountains from the balcony, there’s also the opportunity to see lots of things happening in the dry river bed for instance. Sometimes, it actually becomes a raging torrent, with the river waters almost overflowing into the fields, sometimes it has a shepherd and his herd of goats wandering down it, their tinkling bells bringing a kind of pastoral musicality to the day. Every now and then, you’ll hear the roar of moto-cross, and catch the colourful blur of riders as bikes speed down the winding riverbed. And then there’s the donkey.  I was moved to look out of the window yesterday when Miki, sat at her computer yelled “Donkey!”. Sure enough, a lone donkey was ambling down the street to the main road. Within minutes, a horde of adults, children and dogs were high-tailing it after him, as he trotted up the main road to Mojacar village. Cars were slowing and swerving in an attempt to ‘corral’ him. He responded by crossing a ditch and cantered across somebody else’s field. Somehow though, eventually this rag-tag legion of kids, adults, dogs and cars managed to get him back here, and we watched with amusement as he was finally roped and the young boy who’d lost him was sat back on him, and they trotted off.

Who needs television when you’ve got animal antics like this outside your front door?

Kev Moore

Rocktober looms, so…..

Tomorrow night I fly to Gatwick on the first leg of my journey to join the Witch Cross lads for our Rocktober tour. So today, it was great to get out on the bikes with Miki and do a 25 km circuit taking in the local playa…it all helps to keep the fitness levels up for what is set to be a busy week!We set off from our home in Turre and went via the nearby fishing village of Garrucha, and then along the Playa to our favourite cafe, Masko, where we then headed uphill towards Mojacar village, before turning right onto the bypass which eventually took us back down to rejoin our original route.

We’re so lucky with the weather here, and it was perfect cycling weather, a cool breeze, sunny, not too warm. Miki particularly enjoyed giving her new bike a run, having just bought it on our last trip up to France! It was amazing to see the river, usually dry, still full of water after the recent disastrous floods.

Having the bikes stops us getting complacent. Even living in such a great place, it’s easy to fall into a pattern where you rarely get out and enjoy what’s on your own doorstep, so I love that aspect of it. And yeah, we weren’t the only ones with the same idea!

Kev Moore

Off topic: Rain stops play

Sunday, a sunny but temperate day, and we thought we’d head out to the local tennis courts on the bikes for an hour or two knocking a ball about. We’ve been threatening to do this for a while, but the summer was just TOO hot, and what with one thing and another, we’d never got around to it. Which is a shame, because I don’t think we’ll be getting around to it anytime soon.

The courts have been totally trashed by the recent apocalyptic floods that battered our area a couple of weeks back. I hadn’t even realized that the large river channel some minutes away from us had burst its banks. (We arrived home from the North the morning after the floods) -and the river channel that passes our house hadn’t been breached. But on arrival at the tennis park, we dismounted and stood, dumbfounded at the devastation. Every lamp-post , fence, or child’s play apparatus was swathed in bracken, detritus and debris, given up by the river on its relentless march to the sea.  The whole of the ground had been layered in mud, up to 6 inches thick in places, which had now eerily dried and cracked into some kind of devil’s jigsaw. It looked like a tennis centre from Mars. The force of the water had ripped metal stantions and fences asunder, and left weeds and driftwood occupying the bleachers where spectators might normally be expected to sit. It was a sad and depressing sight, especially, in the light of the current economic climate, we can’t possibly know when it might be cleared and repaired.

The day was salvaged by turning it into a full fledged bike ride out to Los Gallardos and back to Turre, exploring the route of the (eventual) new railway and a new urbanization that I didn’t even know existed! (I need to get out more!)

But I couldn’t help thinking, as I cycled along, knowing how saddened I was to see the state of the courts and the despair of ever seeing them restored to their former glory, just how much worse it was for those who’d returned to find their homes like this, or, tragically, those who never returned at all.

Kev Moore

P.A.W.S. Benefit Concert

Many of you may be labouring under the misapprehension that P.A.W.S. is the name of an animal charity, but I can assure you all that this is not the case…well, it might, be, but not to this particular singer/bassist. It stands for “Plays Again With Stef”. Because 2 weeks ago, I climbed onstage with my old buddy Stef Cybichowski and we played live together for the first time in 33 years, no rehearsals, nothing. (Unless you count the 2 hours on the plane where Stef was listening to the songs on his ipod!)

I don’t gig locally very often , but the opportunity afforded by this Charity bash coinciding with Stef’s weekend visit was too good to pass up. So my mate Mario Moriche, Stef and i took to the stage in Mojacar’s artisan centre, and the years fell away. It’s frightening to think what sort of rhythm section we’d be if we’d played together for 33 years! I only re-established contact with Stef a couple of years back, and through the miracle of technology he supplied drums on three tracks from my Blue Odyssey album, but we were never in the same room at the same time.

Back in the murky 70’s, we shared a flat in Derby as green 18 year-olds, and before the decade was out, went our separate ways, Stef playing in Germany, and me in Scandinavia.  When we re-connected, it was like sitting around in our old lounge back in Vicarage Avenue, as if no time had passed. There is something special about musicians. Your relationships just endure. Even if you’ve been out of touch, and you can pick up where you left off with consummate ease.  The way we just walked on stage and ‘did the gig’ was amazing, and an experience I’m so grateful for, and hope to repeat. Let’s not wait another 33 years, eh matey? 🙂

Photos by Deano

Kev Moore

A Question of balance

Watching Clive Sarstedt at Titos - will gigs like this be a thing of the past?

I find, as I dig deeper into the furore that has sprung up in Mojacar and surrounding areas regarding Noise control, that the problem is not as clear-cut as it first appeared. Sure, we have a percentage of the same bunch of middle/old-aged miserable buggers that used to moan about music in the UK, who’ve moved to Spain to moan about it here.  But it’s really not that simple.

Firstly, I would advise anybody with half a brain to consider the possibility of NOT buying or renting a villa or apartment on Mojacar playa if you don’t want to hear music. It’s not rocket science. But then, moaning is the life-blood of some people. They need it to justify their existence.

The real mistake here though, is that the authorities are using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. Of course, we don’t want to turn Mojacar into a San Antonio, a Benidorm, or God forbid, an Ayia Napa. But a blanket restriction will not only put paid to the admittedly noisy hen and stag nights and hard dance club scene, but also decimate the ‘real’ entertainment,  the music that gives Mojacar it’s heart and soul – the live bands that appear along the Playa, mainly in the beach bars, the jam sessions, the FUN.

A real concern is the ruling that all bars (at huge expense) will have to be internet ready, so a modem can relay the sound levels to the local Police station. My God. Can you imagine the endless possibilities for abuse here? And don’t tell me it won’t happen. Who is to stop the Police wandering down to a bar and saying, oh, you reached 98 db on the 10th, 97db on the 16th, you owe us a couple of hundred Euros. I really don’t like this development. It is Big Brother in its worst form. How can you let rip on guitar, and try to entertain people, with all this garbage going on in the back of your mind, knowing some Policeman is monitoring you remotely? It’s unacceptable. perhaps I could suggest catching criminals might be a better, more productive use of their time.

We must be careful to preserve our musical heritage here. Make no mistake, it is a musical heritage.  It is precious. It’s been here for decades, and I don’t want it to disappear into oblivion because ‘Fred and Olive’ want a nice , quiet, retirement retreat.  The rest of us have a voice too.

Download SAVE MOJACAR MUSIC from this site:

Kev Moore

A line in the sand

The recent news that all the bars on Mojacar playa have to be fitted with sound proofing and decibel meters was the final straw for me. The politicians, whose credibility is non-existent, never mind damaged have squeezed and squeezed in order to push the foreigners out of Mojacar and kill the tourist trade here. The bars are suffering, businesses are suffering, and families are having their dreams dashed on a daily basis. Now, to cap it all, the bars are to be denied the opportunity to showcase live music, or face the threat of closure. This is a step too far, and angers me beyond belief. I’ve tried to channel my anger into something productive, and here it is – a protest song that I hope will help draw the line in the sand – thus far and no further.

It’s called Save Mojacar Music, and I urge you all to download it – it’s free – just click on the link at the bottom

Play it loud and play it proud. We will not be dictated too.

TURN IT UP!

SAVE MOJACAR MUSIC

Save Mojacar music, don’t wanna lose it
We only wanna have some fun – we’re not the only ones
Save Mojacar music, don’t wanna lose it
We the people put you there, we’ll kick you out without a care

We can’t survive at ’55’ – Mojacar’s more dead than alive
You’ve got your Mercs, you’ve bled us dry
Now watch the beach bars fade and die
Unemployment, 30 dot, the music scene helps stop the rot
Look past the Euros in your stash
Or come Elections, you’ll be trashed
mark my words, better listen to us
Or your kids’ll be sellin’ asparagus, dig?

Empty bars, empty beaches
Big black cars, Council leeches

No music, can’t use it, what ya gonna do when the whole town lose it?
No music, can’t use it, what ya gonna do when you finally squeeze it?

Don’t quit it, gotta hit it, gotta stick it to the man
Gotta give it to the motherlovers one mo’ time
Don’t quit it, gotta hit it, gotta stick it to the man
Gotta give it to the mothers……..

Sun…..sea…..sand…..Systematic shutdown

Save Mojacar music, don’t wanna lose it
We only wanna have some fun – we’re not the only ones
Save Mojacar music, don’t wanna lose it
We the people put you there, we’ll kick you out without a care

Turn it up!

SAVE MOJACAR MUSIC – The Song

Kev Moore

The Mayor of Simpleton

I live in the Province of Almeria, in Andalucia, Spain.  An area of the world rich in musical heritage. Indeed, the village next door – Mojacar was revived in the 1960’s when the then Mayor invited artists and musicians to buy the derelict homes of this deserted and forgotten town for just ten pounds each. It was a revolutionary idea – and it worked. Mojacar slowly came back to life, and was fed and financed by a slow but steady tourist industry, clearly distinct from the ‘lager lout’ culture of Benidorm, much further up the coast.

Many foreigners moved here, Brits, Germans, Scandinavians, all bringing their dreams and creating a new economy. But dark clouds loomed on the horizon. As the prominent local families had finally amassed their fortunes from the tourism trade, and swapped their horses and carts for Mercedes, they decided to systematically set about killing the goose that laid the golden egg.  Mojacar, once on the verge of a successful 10 month tourist season thanks to our wonderful climate, saw its trade wither like an old Rioja grape on the vine. August is now about the only time the bar owners get to redress the horrendous losses they make during the rest of the year, and yet the bars have had to cancel the entertainment that would bring in the business, for fear of falling foul of the regulations. That’s a lot of ‘effin there. Damn right.

Dreams began to die on an almost daily basis, as people returned home, broke, and disillusioned.  Now – the fate of this once renaissance village seems to be finally sealed once and for all. The ‘powers that be’ (I shan’t use the word Mayor, as they don’t even come close to the vision shown by their 60’s counterpart) – Have decreed that all bars be fitted with a noise control machine (decimeter) – to be paid for by the owners of course – at 1,500 euros a shot – and to be set at 55 decibels. I fart louder than that.

So, a fait accompli then, because if the bars are reckless enough to book live entertainment, they cannot fail to break the new law. Apparently, if the police are called twice to any venue, the place will be shut down. This, make no bones about it, is Fascism by any other name. What kind of mindset implements laws to kill the very culture that helped rebuild this magical place? It disgusts me, and I state here and now that I find these people beneath my contempt, and their actions reprehensible, not to mention inexplicable.

Oh, and by the way, we have the highest unemployment rate amongst the young of anywhere in Spain.  Yeah, the bosses are doing a great job.

LONG LIVE MUSIC – SAY IT LOUD, SAY IT PROUD, AND PLAY IT LIVE!!!

The Sentinella – Cover Boy!

Our popular local magazine, The Sentinella, where my Kid Monsta cartoon strip appears monthly, was kind enough to give me the Front page for their July issue – and of course, The Kid was featured, sunbathing on Mojacar Playa!  Pete and Jo, who run the magazine single-handedly (well, double-handedly) do a great job collating news and views from around the region, and putting it all out in the ‘little mag that fits in your bag’.   Check out the online edition RIGHT HERE.

This month, I went a bit ‘topical’ with the comic strip, as you can see below:

Kev Moore

Closer to home……

Although I’ve been flying hither and thither around Europe with BC Sweet this summer, 2011 has also seen me perform a few more shows with my good mate Mario, both in Mezcaleros, and also in a 60’s music project called Mo’Bitz up in Cabrera, a village up in the mountains that bear it’s name ( or is it the other way around?)

Anyway, we played a set comprising all the classics from Small Faces, Spencer Davis, Kinks, Beatles, etc, and a good time was had by all, despite the bitter cold. Yes, you heard right. the bitter cold. It seems hard to believe, as I sit beneath my fan in the office sweating profusely, that a mere few weeks ago, the night time mountain air took away all feeling in my fingers! I even sat at the side of the stage in the car to keep my fingers warm before going on! So, for all you envious of us Spain-dwellers – it’s sometimes cold here too!

Since doing this show, Mario and I, together with drummer Francis have performed a rock set as Mezcaleros at a biker festival up near Granada, and it looks like we’ll be doing another one in August.  Mario’s also hoping to arrange a beach bar bash at the end of July down on Mojacar playa – which would be very cool. So, busy times at home and abroad!

Kev Moore