TAPAS AND JOHN PEEL
D'ye ken John Peel? Or, more appropriately, d'ye mind o' John Peel? Not the legendary Cumberland huntsman, but the far more influential Liverpudlian DJ and broadcaster who sadly died in 2004. Influential? Well he certainly was in my life, and that impact he made reverberated again yesterday, providing an unexpected experience.
In my late teens and early twenties I was a frequent listener to Peel's late night music programme. Often I'd end the day in bed, my tiny orange transistor radio, and the single earpiece plugged in. Lying there in the dark I'd hear an eclectic mix of genres and instruments and styles, some immediately rejected, some diving into my consciousness. If the latter remained an LP purchase would invariably result. And my entry into the weird world of 'unusual' acts like Ivor Cutler and Wild Man Fischer. And one of those LPs was Paco, by flamenco guitarist Paco de Lucia.
Yesterday we had a walk along Portobello Prom, and decided that before going home we'd have a late lunch/early dinner. The first promising place we came to was a Spanish tapas restaurant, so in we went. First impressions weren't great. The waiter waved us vaguely in as he was on the phone. Lighting was a bit on the dim side considering it was only late afternoon. And there was a noisy group of young women and their kids at a table.
But the waiter came over and couldn't have been lovelier. The sun came out from behind a cloud and brightened the place up. And the loud presences left the building, leaving us as the only two customers. Which also meant I could hear the music coming over the speakers, and my ears sharpened up immediately. The unmistakeable sound of flamenco guitar, all cascading ripples of notes percussive rhythms and bright, jumping energy. In this case with a melody and style I recognised instantly. Paco. I hadn't played that LP for years. I wondered if I still had it, for in downsizing I did get rid of a lot of my old vinyl. But it was always a favourite, surely it's one I would have hung on to?
The track came to an end, to be succeeded by voices, which I couldn't make out. Was this a radio station they had on and the immediately identifiable track was a coincidence? No, this was their Spotify playlist, and what I'd heard was one of the ads. Yes, it was Paco de Lucia (except he pronounced it correctly!). Yes he was an icon of Spanish music. It was clear that the waiter was delighted to find someone who knew of the man, and he talked knowledgeably about the musician's background and relatively recent death. And asked if I'd like some suggestions for similar artists.
Would I? Of course I would. As we ate our (delicious) tapas he found time to scribble down a list, which was duly delivered. Then we mentioned a Galician folkrock band we're fans of. Which prompted another addition to the list. And, in exchange, he took a photo of the name of our favourite band, which was on my tee shirt, and said he'd be investigating them.
I hope he does. For I'm enjoying his little list, courtesy of YouTube and Spotify, and sooo pleased to find that Paco still sitting on my vinyl shelf and being able to listen to him today. The years slipped away...
Without John Peel we'd have come away feeling we'd discovered an interesting place to eat. With John Peel, or at least with listening to him more than four decades ago, we've added the even better discovery of new music to explore. Or was that down to a butterfly in South America?