finding the place called Home

Two bright orange Sainsbury’s carrier bags! That’s all he was wearing!  He was the first musician she’d been introduced to since moving to Hastings a week before, and meeting him did rather set the tone of things to come. Midst the chaos of Carnival Week’s Pram Race, she could just about make out his name as Ben and that he played in a band called Kinky Peaches!

Being one of many “down froms” who have headed south and stayed,  she’d already found that two things define Hastings – the ever present, ever changing sea setting the pulse for the day … and the people – so welcoming, community-spirited, brave, innovative, unafraid to break the rules and frankly, pretty bonkers with an apparent penchant for dressing up at any given opportunity! 

And amongst them, an ever-growing hub of creative souls whose extraordinary talent colours the lives of everyone there.  Nowhere more so than in the music … stroll the old town on any given evening and it drifts out of the bars, enticing you to stop and listen more.  Take a typical Thursday … a Belgium keyboard player called Ilja de Neve singing full pelt in a tiny intimate bar on the famous George Street. Never heard of him? Neither had she! Did he knock her socks off? Hell yes! Sitting near enough to mop his brow, she’d  marvelled as his fingers effortlessly sped across the keys, his face contorted with passion for his craft, treating them to foot tapping boogie woogie and sublime blues. Up the High Street, German tourists pressing their noses against Jenny Lind’s windows, wondering at the curious scene inside of fishermen – so defined by their breton stripes and beards – raucously singing sea shanties while the punters chorused in, clearly demonstrating the old adage that Hastings is a drinking town with a fishing problem.  Along the street, Sam Calver’s melodic acoustic guitar drifted through the open doors of Porters … and that was all in just one night. Another evening, one drummer kept reappearing at different gigs, the audience even helping him to move his kit so he wouldn’t be late – only in Hastings! 

Of course, this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg.  During those early days in the place that she now called home, young Harry Randall-Marsh, leading his achingly talented soul funk band, had her swooning with one swing of his hips. The Funking Bar Stewards (a challenging name for even the most professional compere!) had them on our feet at the Seafood & Wine Festival. Dr Savage & The Incurables rocking the house at The Nelson, as only he knows how – dear god, the energy of the man!!  Los Twangeros, found most Sunday evenings at Whistle Trago, transporting their audience to sunnier climes. And the weekend treat of Sedlescombe’s Big Green Cardigan Festival – a testament to the quality of the local music scene that its organizers are able to entice such talented musicians to play.  Sister Suzie, by the way – that little lady with the big bluesy voice – absolutely nailed it!!

As so to Ben.  The next time she saw him, he was stealing the show with a guitar solo on the evening of Hastings Pride.  It was then she realised his band is actually called Kid Kapichi! Sorry Ben!

Hastings!  You rock!!

 

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