Café Del Mar (Volume 1) – Released 6th June, 1994, React Records
Café Del Mar Volume 1 is the first release from the popular Café Del Mar compilation series, originally released on React Records and compiled by Jose Padilla.
Spanish-born Jose Padilla, who passed in 2020, was previously the resident DJ at the now world-famous Café Del Mar bar in Ibiza. His carefully curated compilation was created to reflect his chilled DJ sets while attempting to export the so-called “Balearic” vibe to clubbers and music fans worldwide.
In addition to an opening track by Padilla himself, the album features an eclectic selection of ambient and downtempo music from Sun Electric, Sabres Of Paradise, Leftfield, Underworld and William Orbit.
The album was a huge success spawning an immediate follow-up, ultimately a resulting in decades-long franchise.
Café Del Mar also served as the blueprint “chill out” compilation for countless others to follow, in much the same way that the original Café Del Mar location served as the template for chillout beach clubs worldwide.
React Records, of course, were the compilation kings of the 1990s, in addition to being home of Technohead/GTO they also released a range of genre-defining compilations such as Artcore (drum n bass), Dope On Plastic (trip hop) Reactivate (trance) and another one of my all-time favourites, the 1995 techno masterpiece, Carl Cox F.A.C.T.
And so, 30 years on, and no doubt with many of you already en-route to the white isle for a sunny gurning and gouging session, let’s look at what’s arguably React’s most successful compilation release of all.
So pour yourself some hierbas and grab a spot on the beach before ze Germans get here, it’s time to watch the sunset at Café Del Mar.
Guiris Del Mar
I first went to Ibiza in 1997 and specifically went to the Café Del Mar to do the whole sunset thing, perched on a rock in precarious fashion, San Miguel in hand, like a big guiri tourist.
Gotta say, I did enjoy the music – even if the vibe was shit.
I left shortly after the sunset and continued my adventures. I then bought Volume 1 on CD the following morning and lay on the beach playing it on my Discman.
Many years later I returned to San Antonio and passed by Café Del Mar again. The area was far more built up than I remember it, but then after 20-odd years why wouldn’t it?
Also, it just so happened the sun was setting as we approached and I distinctly remember looking down thinking, nah, keep walking.
In that interim period between my last visit, Café Del Mar had gone from a bar to a brand to an all-pervasive global franchise, the Kentucky Fried Chicken of chill out bars.
That said, I still have a soft spot for this album.
It begins with a track by the man himself, señor Jose Padilla, with a suitably aquatic piece called Agua.
You can look at this track as the distillation of everything Padilla was trying to accomplish musically. On the surface it’s a blend of uplifting ambient with tribal percussion and other world music influences.
But his fellow Spaniards are guaranteed to notice the unmistakable strains of flamenco legend Camarón de la Isla, intoning at the track’s climax. Café Del Mar may well be a tourist trap for sunburnt club casualties, but by including this sample in the opening track of the series, Padilla reminds us of his heritage.
Next up there’s a track by William Orbit. I never really rated him though. An interesting character I guess and a highly competent producer, no doubt, but I always thought he was a bit too poppy and, having subsequently gone on to produce an album with Madonna, he proved that point unequivocally.
So, let’s instead focus on one of the all-time ambient classics, Smokebelch II (Beatless Mix) by the Sabres of Paradise. If you’re a regular reader you’ll already be aware of my love for the Sabres and, indeed, all things Weatherall related.
This is one of those tracks which, once you’ve heard it, you’ll never forget it. It’s a pity that many of you probably first heard it on an O2 mobile ad, but well, even that can’t detract from the deep melodic pleasure this track conveys.
After Smokebelch we get a distinct change of direction with the Penguin Café Orchestra’s Music For A Found Harmonium.
It’s the first use of what might best be referred to as “world music” on the compilation series but would hardly be the last.
This track veers considerably from the previous glossy ambience for an acoustic, Celtic-influenced track played on the titular harmonium, an obscure, old-timey organ-like instrument.
It’s fair to say the only reason you’re likely to have heard this otherwise obscure piece of music is because this compilation popularised it. Subsequently it’s been used in movies and TV quite extensively and has also been the subject of countless covers in the ensuring 30 years.
Suffice to say, it was precisely the polar opposite of what an Irish 20-something in Ibiza in the 90s wanted to listen to after a night’s festivities, “ugh accordions!” /skip!
Sun Electric were (are? I think they’re still going, not sure) a German duo who released their first album, Kitchen, on R&S back in 1993. Which, if you haven’t figured out already, is my way of saying, “note to self”, as it’s a good one to feature in a future article.
Anyways their track Sundance is next, a light and suitably sunny slice of downtempo sonics with a breakbeat that makes you get off your deckchair, put on your flipflops and say, “I fancy a refill.”
My next pick is Fanfare Of Life from Leftfield which, no points for guessing, is a downtempo variant of their beloved classic Song Of Life.
Essentially all the elements from the original are there, except instead of graduating from a dub-tempo intro that morphs into a four to the floor acid stomper, like the version we know from Leftism, we remain at that subdued dub tempo for the entire duration.
I’m skipping Sisterlove’s The Hypnotist which hasn’t aged well and one can argue, with its new age meditation tape dialogue over the top, was already pretty cheesy to begin with.
So my next pick is Second Hand from Underworld. This is far from my favourite Underworld track, but it does have that right mix between ambient and techno which makes it compelling yet relaxing.
I think it’s a good choice to place it at this point of the album too, to help wake us up a little.
Next we get to a track called Crazy Ivan from Ver Vlads.
I know the “crazy Ivan” was a turning maneuverer from the movie Red October. Not sure if that’s what the title references, though this track is suitably cinematic and similarly claustrophobic.
It’s also noteworthy for its changes in tempo and unusual time signature. The track is in 3/4 time, making it something of a rarity in 90s electronic music. I mean you can still dance to it, provided you know how to waltz.
Yet another peculiar piece which helps to bolster the overall musical diversity of this album, though this one hasn’t aged quite as gracefully as some of the others.
Track ten, Estelle from A Man Called Adam I’m skipping because I always found it unbearably cheesy. Listening back I feel like I’m with the Blues Brothers in an elevator listening to the musak version of Girl From Ipanema.
So instead let’s get On The Rocks with Obiman. Not sure if this is a direct reference to Café Del Mar or not. I know you used to be able to sit by the sea on the rocks right next to the café and enjoy the music but far’s I can tell that’s changed now.
Anyways, this is another piece which leans heavily on 90s presets and samples but it’s still has a certain gravitas to it so I’m including it here.
The album ends with Tabula Rasa’s Sunset At The Café Del Mar, signifying the end of the album and the inevitable changing of the guards, musically speaking, as the sun disappears beneath the waves and the night arrives and, with it, higher BPMs.
This is just another well-executed ambient piece which I’m guessing was specifically created for this album to end on.
Balearic Bollocks
So what is Balearic exactly? Allow me to enlighten you.
Balearic is soggy patatas bravas slopped up with baked beans.
It’s sipping sangria under direct midday sun while complaining about foreigners or staggering around San Antonio sunburned with your top off.
It’s asking the barman for “uno cervesa” or shots of that drink with the sticks in it.
It’s not just a style of music, it’s a way of life.
I’ve never been one to idealise Ibiza. Even in the 90s it was overpriced, overcrowded and overrated. Nowadays it’s basically Las Vegas for clubbers. Some nice parts of the island, but for me the less crowded the better.
This album, and the brand with which it’s associated, are poles apart. Even on release, the Café Del Mar album represented an idealised version of Ibiza, one which was already being trampled under the oppressive flipflops of mass tourism.
In 2024, Café Del Mar may as well be the Starbucks of beach bars, but this 1994 album is a true labour of love. A carefully curated and musically diverse collection of music from a master selector who has since passed, but who’s legacy is still going strong.
And with the 2024 season now well underway, it’s the perfect album to enjoy poolside while you top up your tan.