In Valencia there is a small club called Bar Centro Excursionista. Many cities and towns throughout Spain have clubs with a similar name but these are typically organizations that promote hiking and camping. This is not one of those. The sign above the door of Bar Centro Excursionista shows a man being beamed up into a flying saucer. The narrow space inside holds about 50 chairs. There’s a small stage bordered by burgundy velvet curtains. Along one wall is a standup piano. On the other side is a juke box. This is an outstanding venue because of its loyal clientele who come to experience live music, especially of the Americana and Spanish pop varieties. As a musician, I appreciate how easily the room fills up and the careful attention to sound quality.
I arrived in Valencia in September with a backpack full of songs I’d been working on for nearly two years. Hoping for a swift return in early 2020, I had stashed three guitars there with friends. But that was before Covid-19 threw a wrench in most of the world’s well laid plans. I wrote more than half of this new repertoire during the often painful isolation of 2020 and 2021 in my studio in northern California. For me, this included recovering from shoulder surgery and sending a few painkiller-inspired verses to my friend Ido Goldberg in Israel who immediately set them to music. I learned to play mandolin because guitar was off limits during the first three months of rehab. Once I got my chops back and most of Sonoma County was fully vaccinated I began practicing with a young bassist named Dylan Juhan. Over the summer, Isha Erskine, a Grammy winning producer, helped these songs evolve with a number of pre-production sessions. By the time I reached Spain I felt more prepared than usual — musically and spiritually— to launch a recording project.
I found my way to Rio Bravo, a gem of a studio in Xirivella (pronounced chee-ree-vā-ya) just west of Valencia. Its owners, Xema Fuertes and Cayo Bellvesser, are both extremely accomplished musicians and also the proprietors of Bar Centro Excursionista. Along with my good friend keyboardist Amadeo Moscardó and a small rhythm section (including Cayo on bass) the fun began. Within a week we laid down tracks for 8 songs. On and off over the next month — with Xema as producer and multi-instrumentalist — we added melodic hooks, vocal harmonies and other ear worms to the grooves I brought from California.
Our recording sessions were usually punctuated by 3 o’clock comidas at the local bar. We sat at tables along a busy street. Depending on the autumn weather we chose either the sunny or shady side. My typical lunch consisted of Spanish tortilla, iceberg lettuce salad and a bottle of Estrella Galicia beer topped off with a cafe solo. I did my best to keep up with the band’s rapid-fire conversations in Castellano and Valenciano.
One afternoon they were talking about an upcoming weekend of shows at Excursionista. They were backing a friend who was releasing his first album. It was dedicated to his sister who had tragically passed away. The shows were completely sold out and he was extremely nervous. Their rehearsals were cutting into our recording time.
I asked if there was a Spanish equivalent of saying “break a leg” before a performance. “Mucha mierda,” someone replied, which literally means “lots of shit.” On the surface this doesn’t seem too encouraging. But surely breaking a leg is much worse. Mucha mierda apparently derives from a time when people arrived at theaters and performances in horse drawn carriages. The popularity of an event could be measured in the amount of waste generated by the horses that helped fill the seats.
“Break a leg” may go back to the ancient Greeks who stomped their feet on amphitheater stones in appreciation. It’s also said that audiences in Elizabethan England applauded by banging their chairs on the floor. In either case, an overly enthusiastic response might break a leg.
I never exactly understood why we wished someone physical harm so that they would do well. But this didn’t stop me from saying it. I’m continually amazed by how much learning a second or third language teaches me about the one I’m supposed to already know.
I hope to release the new album project in 2022 and roll it out in small venues across Spain starting with Bar Centro Excursionista. The vibe is so cool and the Valencianos are so gracious, especially when the house band is playing and the audience gets to sing along. If you think about it, wish me mucha mierda. I will definitely take it in the spirit intended.
