Italian maestros Daniele Baldelli and Marco Diogini do perhaps the unthinkable and radically decon / recon / struct Elkin & Nelson’s bona fide Balearic Beat classic, Jibaro. Some, myself included, view this piece of music as sacred. A touchstone, and undeniable anthem, from a very, very special time. When I talked to DJs Alfredo Fiorito and Leo Mas, both listed Jibaro as a, if not THE, tune that defined their world-changing `80s residency at Ibiza’s now legendary nightclub, Amnesia (1).

The original is a frenetic, organic, passionate, Spanish funk call-to-arms – “Come on let’s go!” – where everything is played like a percussion instrument. Allegedly – according to myth – aimed at cocaine crop farmers, it was recorded by two Columbian brothers, Javier and Leon Marin Velez, in 1974. When pressed on a 12, in 1979 and again in `86, it became a huge hit in Europe (2), but was unknown in the UK, until British disciples of Alfie and Leo, The Amnesiacs, brought it back with them from their hedonistic holidays. In the process, kick starting The Second Summer Of Love (3).

Jibaro is a tune that reminds me of all-day parties held at Catford’s Downham Tavern. Slightly dodgy South London dos, run by Fascinations, a crew with strong “soccer fan” associations. I was fresh from 3 years studying at university up north, and didn’t really know what was going on. My younger sister, was the raver, and she’d let me tag along. Off my face, “right on one, matey”, I watched, from the back of the aircraft hanger-sized hall, the whole place erupt from the song’s opening piano chords and brass blasts, and go crazy as it launched into its barmy, breakneck finale. Like some modern hippie happening. It was one of several serious epiphanies I experienced during the summers of `88 and `89 (4). 

Posers in ponchos. Tracey top-knots in floral Laura Ashley jumpsuits. Bods serving up sporting lairy baseball caps, so that they could be spotted by potential customers in the crowd. A congregation of crews, both local and from all over the south east. The posse from Pompey, Portsmouth, in full effect. Everyone on E. In a lawless, self-policed land. All of us singing words we didn’t understand. Rushing as the record dropped to acapella. My mind was blown, and I was totally hooked on the energy, the unity. I really did think that we could change the world, and maybe in some small ways we did. I also instantly felt like I belonged. Something that had never happened to me before, as a shy, bookish, introverted kid. The feeling of optimism that the song fills me with, I hope, will never fade.

Baldelli and Diogini reimagine Jibaro as a 21st Century “drug chug”. An extension of Daniele’s ground-breaking Cosmic Club sound. A mid-tempo mover, it stomps to a big arpeggiated electronic bottom end. Teasing, tiny snippets of guitar spin in, building, and quickly revealing that familiar spritely strum. The duo follow this with filtered flashes of Elkin and Nelson’s shouts, and tantalising tastes of the original b-line. Timbales tumble and axe licks are isolated, before a wild wah-wah climax. They even squeeze in a reggae soundsystem “special” boast. Their Dub uses the OG’s elements even more sparingly. Trapping and twisting them totally out of shape via mad EQ and delay. A fun “Marmite” 45, it’ll no doubt divide audiences and horrify purists.

NOTES
(1) When Alfredo visited Tokyo, I asked him to sign my copy.
(2) The single’s success led to Javier and Leon working with West Indian band, another set of siblings, The Gibson Brothers, on the global hits Cuba, Que Sera Mi Vida, and Ooh What A Life!
(3) Jibaro was covered by Electra – a collective that included Paul Oakenfold and Rob Davis – and their version was included on the genre-defining FFRR compilation Balearic Beats Volume 1. I bet the Marin Velez brothers didn’t see a penny.
(4) Others included Nicky Holloway’s Trip and Tony Colston-Hayter’s Sunrise.