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| “You
guys really do have some fun, don’t you?” I said to Gaspar,
lead guitarist for the Cartama punk/garage/rock band Kmorra, as we
said goodbye after listening to the group in rehearsal. We had certainly
had some fun ourselves. They were very entertaining. “Gaspar! Gaspar!” I had called out earlier to an innocent, but likely looking bystander, who ignored me, reasonably enough, as he scurried off in the opposite direction, punching in the number of somebody he presumably did know into his mobile phone. We had arranged to meet outside the local chemist shop, but there was no one there. I turned around and suddenly saw him, smiling and waving to us from a nearby doorway. “There’s not much room in here, I’m afraid,” he said, stating the obvious as we walked through a hollow building shell into a tiny, windowless bunker beyond. Room enough though for a complete drum kit, amplifiers, guitars and a handy sofa placed right in the middle. So how would you feel as the door was shut behind you and you were faced with a bunch of wild punks you didn’t know from Adam who had a severely intense gleam in their eyes? Very welcome, actually, in our case. They were all very friendly, introduced themselves straight away and were very pleased to see us. I asked Gaspar if they wrote their own songs and their own music and he nodded, pointing at their singer and front man Isaac, or as he is better known to fans, Toxi. “What are your songs about?” I asked Toxi. “They are about the world as it is today, about the youth, how they feel about things, about the future,” he said. “And how do the youth feel?” I asked him. “I think a lot of people are crazy,” he smiled, with a crazy glint in his eye. “What, everywhere,” I asked, with a crazy glint in my eye, “or especially here in Spain?” “Yes, everywhere,” he laughed, “but especially in Spain.” “Why is that?” “I think it is the weather, the climate.” “What, too hot for the brain?” “Yes,” said Toxi, “that’s right.” “And the state of the world,” I asked, “what do you think of that?” “It’s a difficult world, with lots of problems,” he answered. From the other side of the room, all of six feet away, I noticed Moises, the bass player, smiling at Isaac. “What do you think of the world today,” I asked him, “is it a healthy place?” The smile disappeared. Moises was not about to be flippant about a think such as that. “It’s OK, not too bad, average,” he said, or at least I think that is what his Spanish meant. Bearing in mind my own very strong feelings about mass murder, hunger, corruption and general global decay, I found his response very mild and rather optimistic by comparison. Especially coming from a super-charged Andalucian punk. “My philosophy,” Moises went on, “is to live and let live.” Back to Toxi, the shy one, so the story goes. “And do you think there is a solution for the world’s difficulties and for its problems?” I listened carefully. If I had been asked that question… But I hadn’t, it was Toxi’s turn. “Yes, I do,” he said, “I think that it is all a question of balance.” Hardly hedonistic, I thought, thinking about the days of the Sex Pistols, although somehow I feel sure that buried beneath all that spit, alcohol and bad mouth attitude there was a moral conscience then too. “I think that the youth should be more properly informed,” said Toxi, “about what is really happening today, about issues that affect them, like proper information about drugs, for example, so that they can be more open minded, more knowledgeable about life, because the future is in their hands.” “And do you think that music can help the world?” Toxi laughed. “That would be very nice!” I turned to Gaspar, who added: “Our songs have social/political lyrics,” he said, “that’s the best way I can describe them.” “But always with a touch of humour,” interjected Toxi, “we don’t intend to be too serious or too sad.” Guitarist David hadn’t said much so far, so I then turned to him. “Where did you learn to play?” I asked, “from an older brother, or was your mother or father perhaps a musician?” He shook his head. “No, I am the only bad boy in my family,” he laughed, “and actually I never did learn to play, I am still learning now.” “And which bands have inspired you?” I asked. Red Hot Chilli Peppers was the immediate reply. “And Iggy Pop?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “A bit before your time?” I asked, with a laugh and he nodded, although he then admitted to liking my own music heroes, Jimi Hendrix and Jimmy Page. “I like Iggy Pop,” said Gaspar, “and the Stooges.” “And your musical inspiration,” I asked Gaspar, “were there musicians in your family?” “My grandfather was a flamenco performer,” he said. I knew it. There had to be a link with flamenco somehow, there usually was, it was like the backbone of all Spanish music. “And do you like flamenco?” I asked. “I do, yes,” he admitted, “but flamenco is a very complicated thing. There are many branches, many parts. To be honest I don’t think I am talented enough to be a flamenco artist.” We were still waiting for the drummer to arrive. As the other members of the band began to get themselves ready I sat with Gaspar and chatted. It was Gaspar who had invited us to the rehearsal, his email following on an invitation to a rock and arts and crafts festival the following weekend, where he would be playing drums for a rock/blues/garage band called Los Alobaos. It was a relief to me that Gaspar had a pretty good grasp of English and having twice visited the great city of Crowborough in Kent, when he became acquainted with the music scene in Brighton and on the Medway, he knew a fair bit about the English music business. “When I was much younger,” I said, casting my mind way back, “the hippies thought that they could change the world. But they didn’t. Do young people today think that they can change the world?” I asked. “Yes,” he said, “they do, but I think in a different way. Now people think that they can change the world in a more individual and personal way, they can change it through their relationships with other people, through the work they do in society.” How level headed! And I was talking to an outrageous punk! Gaspar’s email to beautifulyoo.com had come through a cultural association called Gestionindi. “What is Gestionindi all about?” I asked. “We promote art and music by young people in the Guadalhorce Valley,” he said. “We want to give young people the space and opportunity to be heard and to show what they can do and what they can achieve.” “And do you get government funding?” I asked. “No, we don’t,” he said, “we do it for free.” And on the subject of achievement, “Has Kmorra made any recordings so far?” I asked. “We have made a few demo recordings,” he said, “but the recording industry is not so strong these days.” “Do you mean because of the internet?” I asked. “Yes, that’s right, but actually we don’t mind. In the past groups had to rely on getting a lucky break with a recording company, now the internet gives groups the chance to be heard all over the world and we can do it for ourselves.” “Do you make any money through your music?” I asked. “A little!” he said with a wistful smile. “But we can’t make a living through our music, we all have full time jobs.” “And do you play together often?” “Well, we’ve been together since 2001,” he said, “although we had a 2 year break. Now we play together when we can, but that is not so often, because we have families of our own and other commitments. Good family men. Wild, crazy garage punks. The times they are a changing. “Which do you prefer, playing in a studio or playing live?” I asked him. “Live, for sure,” he enthused, “it’s much wilder, we play with the audience, we bounce off each other.” And then the drummer, Jose, arrived, late, or early in a sense, since by his own admission he had clearly started partying already. With a heavy duty tuning session suddenly in full swing, I didn’t have a chance to talk to him. The music was good. Solid. Tuneful. And, as we expected, wild. It got wilder too and hotter. Shirts came off. Sweat poured down. They played a song in English for us and then they dedicated a song to beautifulyoo.com “One more?” they asked and we had no hesitation at all. Down on his knees, cutting a clear, loud and throbbing riff, Gaspar was joined on the floor by a wailing Toxi as Loui Loui turned into Juani Juani and we roared our appreciation. “Yes, we do have fun,” said Gaspar as he thanked us for coming, promised to ring us next time the band were playing in Alora and said a most polite and very friendly farewell. So, just a bit of fun? Was that it? Perhaps, but then came the balance again. Earlier Toxi had put it quite clearly. “Our music is theatre, it has a comical touch, but at the same time there’s more to it than that. We have something to say and we mean it too.” |
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April
2008