Juan Martin/Huntingdon Hall, Worcester

It was an instrument he called “his wife.” True, the other ‘woman’ received plenty of attention. But time and again Juan Martin returned to the tried and tested.

Mind you, that’s the drawback with being a mistress. The erring philanderer so often goes running back to the safe and familiar.

This music is the product of the uneasy frontier lands of south-western Spain, where 800 years of Moorish rule may have long gone, but where a distinctly Moroccan musical legacy still thrives.

The evidence is written all over the fretboard in the slurs, pull-offs and exotic chromatic runs that burst like fireworks over complex dissonant chords that literally ooze heat and beat.

Yes, you can almost taste the dust of an Andalucian high summer as the guitarists and whirling dancers slowly transform a town or village square into an impromptu concert, a moveable feast of a fiesta that captivates all who fall under its spell.

That rough red wine keeps flowing and you wish the night will never end… The titles say much about what the listener can expect. The Passion of the Lament, Joy, The Spark, The Alchemist… these are not so much tunes, more blueprints for existence.

Yet there is much that is familiar here. For the hammers-on and repeated use of deep major chords are reminiscent of the blues, while improvisations on pieces such as Evocation have much in common with mainstream jazz modulations.

Juan Martin is a rare performer, a man who stays in touch with his roots while still embracing musical change… but presumably just as long as he can keep both wife and mistress happy at the same time.

John Phillpott