In-depth interview, and dispatch from Ibiza, care of gentleman abroad, Christopher English. 

Next year will mark two decades living on this strange island. I don’t really know how I got here, let alone stayed for so long. It’s been five years since my first contribution to Ban Ban Ton Ton. The past five years have been some of the most inspiring for me. I have met some lovely like-minded individuals who managed to reinvigorate my love for this place. In the next batch of Dispatches From A Small Island, I hope to share some stories of lesser-known pockets of musical goodness happening here in Ibiza, starting with one of the best gatherings I have had the pleasure to play at during my tenure here.

Every Monday evening, while thousands head towards the island’s superclubs, a very different ritual unfolds in the garden of Casa Lhasa in the tiny pueblo of San Lorenzo. There’s no promotion, no guest list and no elaborate production. Instead, friends gather beneath the trees with plates of tacos, glasses of mezcal and stacks of vinyl, letting the evening evolve naturally.

Word has spread almost entirely through recommendation. DJs come to play records they likely wouldn’t play elsewhere. Diners become dancers without really noticing. Conversations drift between food, music and wine, while somewhere in the background another record slips onto the turntable. The man at the helm is, Galo Tonella – mezcal slinger, vinyl collector and all-round top gentleman. I caught up with him on his birthday to discover more about the man behind Mezcal Mondays.

You have one of the finest vinyl collections I’ve come across. Where did your love of records begin?

I started DJing in the late ’90s, when everything was on vinyl. Like most people, I eventually moved into CDs and digital, especially when work took over and music became less central to my life. But when I came back to DJing, I found myself drawn back to records. For me, every record carries a story. I remember where I bought it, who recommended it or why I wanted it. There’s something about the artwork, the sleeve and the physical object that creates a much deeper relationship with the music. Instead of scrolling through thousands of digital files, every record feels significant. That connection changes the way I play. I remember the music better because I have memories attached to it. Every track feels earned, and every record has its own personality.

Before Ibiza, where were you playing?

Mostly in Baja California and Southern California. We were doing small parties with friends before the whole hi-fi listening scene really took off. Later we started playing in a venue owned by a chef in Baja where food and carefully selected music went hand in hand, which felt very natural to me.

We also ran an online radio station called Disco Mondo, where we shared records, talked about music and introduced people to the artists we were discovering. It wasn’t about building a career, it was simply about sharing music we loved.

Who were some of your early influences when you started collecting?

I’ve always been drawn to people who dig deeply for music. Danny from Psychemagik had a huge influence on me, introducing me to a completely different way of discovering records. Charles Bals was another big inspiration. I was fortunate enough to buy records directly from both of them, and that really expanded my collection. The sound has evolved over the years, but in many ways it’s still the same. It has always been about curiosity rather than genre. Whether it’s Balearic, soft rock, obscure disco, Brazilian music, jazz or something impossible to categorise, if it feels right, it belongs.

What eventually brought you to Ibiza?

I’d spent summers here while studying in Madrid back in 2007 and 2008, so the island had always stayed with me. When COVID arrived, I was living in California, and like many people I started reassessing my priorities. I came back to Ibiza intending to stay for a month, just to clear my head. Within days I knew I didn’t want to leave. The island felt different. The pace of life, the landscape and the energy all made sense to me. I went back to California, packed my things and moved here permanently in 2020.

How did you become part of Ibiza’s underground music community?

It happened very naturally. Back in California and Mexico, I often felt like I was searching for people who connected with music the same way I did. There were pockets of people, of course, but I never quite felt I belonged. When I arrived in Ibiza, it was completely different. Suddenly I was surrounded by people who cared about the same things, not just music, but food, wine, mezcal, good ingredients and taking time to enjoy life properly. It wasn’t just about collecting records. It was a shared way of living. I met you, Willie Graff, Harry Charles, Matías from Hambre, and so many others. Those relationships developed naturally because everyone was already on the same wavelength.

How did your first opportunities to play on the island come about?

Willie Graff already knew our radio station from California, so when he became involved with the cultural programming at The Standard, he invited me to play there. Harry was also incredibly supportive through WOM, where there was always an open-minded approach to giving people opportunities. Nothing really felt forced. It all happened through friendships and a shared love of music.

How did you meet Matias (Romano) and eventually form the Mezcalearics?

I’ve always enjoyed playing and creating with someone else. Even when I was younger and writing music, I loved bouncing ideas off another musician. DJing together has that same excitement. You never know where the other person is going to take the journey. I met Matías completely by accident. I was eating at his restaurant Hambrë and chatting to one of the waitresses about the music. She laughed and said, “You need to meet the owner.” We met, ended up going out together that evening, and immediately connected over records. We’ve now been playing together for four or five years, constantly inspiring each other and pushing each other’s collections in different directions.

You also launched your own mezcal, Ojo De Isla. How did that come about?

That happened because of one sunset. When I first came back to Ibiza in 2020, a friend took me to Kumharas. They had mezcal, which I wasn’t expecting to find on the island, and we watched the sunset together. I felt something I’d never experienced before. 

There was something about the combination of mezcal and Ibiza that felt incredibly special. It wasn’t just the drink, it was the atmosphere, the landscape and the feeling the island gives you. I remember thinking, I want to make a mezcal for Ibiza. That’s why there’s a sunset on every bottle. That’s where the idea was born.

Mezcal Mondays have become something of a word-of-mouth institution. How did they begin?

It wasn’t planned at all, but the inspiration began with Ben and Cassady from Casa Lhasa, who have quietly created one of Ibiza’s most special restaurants. Around the big limonero at the heart of the garden, they’ve built something that feels effortless: incredible food, genuine hospitality and a brilliant team that makes everyone feel at home and is as much a part of Mezcal Monday as the records themselves.

Ben wanted to create something on Monday evenings during the quieter months. I brought the mezcal, Camilo (Miranda) was looking after the music, and the restaurant provided the space. When summer became busy, Camilo had less time, so I took over the musical side and started inviting friends to play. We’ve never really tried to make it into an event. There isn’t a big social media campaign or heavy promotion or anything. People come because someone they trust tells them about it. 

What do you think makes it different?

People probably answer that better than I can because I’m always inside it rather than experiencing it as a guest. But what I hear again and again is that it feels like an escape. It’s the opposite of what many people expect from Ibiza. Instead of loud clubs and tourist crowds, it’s somewhere people can slow down, eat well, have a conversation and discover music they might never hear anywhere else. 

The music reflects that too. It’s never about playing obvious records. DJs feel comfortable taking risks and bringing records they’ve been carrying around for years but never had the opportunity to play publicly, and that’s a wonderful thing.

Is there such a thing as a Mezcal Mondays sound?

That’s the hardest question. It could honestly be anything. A Mexican pop record. California soft rock. Cosmic disco. Folk. Jazz. Brazilian music. Balearic. Something completely obscure. Genre isn’t really the point. If it sounds right in that garden, through that sound system, in that moment, then it’s part of the Mezcal Mondays sound.

One thing that has become a little Mezcal Monday tradition is playing familiar songs through unexpected voices. We love hearing well-known classics reimagined in completely different ways, whether it’s a Japanese reggae version of a dance anthem or a Mexican interpretation of an ’80s pop hit. Somehow, hearing a song you already know through a different culture or arrangement changes the way you listen. 

What does it mean to you now?

People often tell me there’s something special happening there, and for a long time I didn’t really see it because I was busy hosting, serving mezcal or playing records. It actually took someone else pointing it out for me to realise we’d created something unique. 

What makes me happiest is seeing people relax. They eat incredible food, drink good mezcal, discover music they’ve never heard before and spend an evening with friends. All the senses come together. In the end, that’s really what it’s always been about.

TEN MAGICAL MUSICAL MEZCAL MONDAY MOMENTS

The Doors / Soul Kitchen

As the sun disappears, this one somehow belongs in the garden every single time.

Wayman Corporation / Kumbayero

I’d had this record in my collection for years but never paid much attention to it until Coco María played it at Acapulco, our Latin Balearic gathering at The Standard. Hearing it through her ears completely changed the way I listened to it. Tropical, psychedelic, playful and impossible to place on a map, it hasn’t left my record bag since.

Elkin / La Favorita

After Elkin & Nelson went their separate ways in the mid-1980s, Elkin released this beautiful B-side during his solo years. Sunny, effortless and unmistakably Balearic, it captures the bridge between Latin America and Ibiza better than almost any other record we know. 

Wolfgang Klingler, Hans-Christian Mittag & Thomas Heimes / Smiling C

A record that feels like Ibiza itself. Gentle, understated and quietly emotional, it never asks for attention, but somehow changes the atmosphere the moment it starts. 

Bill Conti / Reflections

Chris English introduced me to this one, and it’s become one of those records I keep coming back to. Beautiful, cinematic and full of space, it captures that moment between daylight and darkness, when everything seems to slow down.

Keiichi Sokabe & Inokasira Rangers / Born Slippy

A Japanese reggae reinterpretation of Underworld’s classic that perfectly reflects our philosophy: familiar music, heard from a completely different perspective.

Pedrito Fernández / Absurda Coincidencia

A Spanish version of Wham!‘s Careless Whisper, recorded during Pedrito Fernández’s brief pop era after becoming one of Mexico’s most beloved ranchera child stars. Watching people slowly realise what they’re listening to is one of our favourite Mezcal Monday moments.

Nanay / Bailando

An Italian disco gem that found its way to us through Andrés “DJ Trujillo”. Joyful, elegant and effortlessly uplifting, it reminds us that sometimes the perfect record doesn’t need an explanation. It just needs the right Monday.

Grace Jones / The Hunter Gets Captured by the Game

I’d never paid much attention to this Grace Jones record until Willie Graff played it one afternoon by the pool at Pikes. It stopped me in my tracks. Dark, seductive and effortlessly cool, it became an instant Mezcal Monday record. 

Luis Miguel / Luz Verde

Every Mezcal Monday needs an anthem, and for us this is one of them. Pure Mexican pop with an unmistakably Balearic soul, it’s nostalgic, romantic and impossible not to sing along to. Maybe it’s because I’m Mexican, maybe it’s because it somehow feels like Ibiza too, but every time it comes on, there’s always someone dancing.