One of the unsung heroes of underground music on the island of Ibiza and far beyond, DJ, producer and label owner Alex Kentucky tragically left us on August 18th 2025, after a short illness. Born in the Canary islands south of Spain, Alex, or Juan Galvan Reyes to his family, found his spiritual home on the Balearic island of Ibiza, where he became a beloved fixture on the radio and at countless bars, clubs, terraces and beaches.
At this point, it might be worth saying a word or two about the “Balearic” sound. As the story has been told many times before a small group of British DJs discovered Ibiza in the late 1980s, and adopted an eclectic and energetic local style and sensibility, which went on to impact electronic music across the globe, sparking the “second summer of love” in the UK and far beyond. But as with most historical British “discoveries,” the full origin story tends to be skimmed over at best (and there may be some theft involved)… let’s just say originators like “father of the Balearic beat,” Alfredo Fiorito, didn’t become the household names that perhaps they should have been.
Across the English speaking world, the Balearic sound is now firmly gripped by the the sun-damaged hands of a few older British men (hilariously dubbed “Balearic Silverbacks” by The Secret DJ), still hanging onto the glory days and forever fighting on Facebook about what classic record is and isn’t Balearic. Here in the UK, “Balearic Beat” was pinned to a board and hung on the wall long ago — the arguments now are all just about taxonomy.
It stands to reason that in the Spanish speaking world, there might be another story, and sure enough, there, is. Over years of knowing Alex and some of his contemporaries, I started to understand just a little bit of the history of Ibiza itself, and how such a tiny island found an eclectic musical style all of its own. As with most great music, the seeds sprouted in tyranny and suffering.
Under Franco, the brutal dictator who took control of Spain in 1939, the Catelan language was outlawed, heavy censorship rules were enacted, and under his rule countless people were disappeared. With geographic distance and more relaxed policing on their side, the islands seemed like the perfect escape for leftists, gays, artists, and anyone else at risk of persecution.
While rock music was initially tolerated by the regime, jazz was viewed as a particular problem. In the 1940s the government began to suppress “so-called black music, swing dances, or any other kind of compositions whose lyrics are in a foreign language, can erode public moral or the most elementary good taste”. By the ’60s and ’70s, the British Invasion bands also drew the ire of Franco’s goons, and even Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” was banned due to “disrespectful phrases.”
Playing brand new unheard-of artists alongside classics and edits, Alex in particular proved to bedroom producers all over the world that their music was in fact Balearic, by playing it all over the island
Are you getting the picture yet? The origins of the Balearic sound can probably be found in Franco’s lists of outlawed songs. Simply listening became an act of defiance, right up until 1975 when Franco died, the censors ceased, and Ibiza became a tourist destination.
An open musical eclecticism is in the DNA of the people of the Spanish islands (more so than the mainland perhaps), blending disparate genres, new and old music, known and unknown, all filtered through sunshine, natural beauty, and a relaxed, easy-going lifestyle. These people still don’t take for granted the privilege of being free to listen to whatever music they want to. Far from the Balearic sound described by the British music press, younger DJs like Jose Maria Ramon, Rayco Santos, Bruno From Ibiza, Miguel Garji, and my friend Alex Kentucky, have quietly carried the torch forward. Playing brand new unheard-of artists alongside classics and edits, Alex in particular proved to bedroom producers all over the world that their music was in fact Balearic, by playing it all over the island, from his years of shows on the local radio stations playing in the taxis picking tourists up from the airport, to his DJ sets and playlists on the beach terraces they recovered on, drinking one last glass before their flight home. And the best part? In the grand tradition of subtle defiance, those ageing British gatekeepers had nothing to do with it.
Alex leaves us the most wonderful collection of mixes and radio shows on his Soundcloud page, which will help you understand his unique approach to digging and his ambassadorship for a living, breathing, evolving, new Balearic sound better than I ever can hope to in words. In more recent years his support of the global underground extended to his Be Adult record label, where he showcased deep sounds from across the planet, finding that warm island vibe he loved in the most unlikely places, and quickly curating an extensive and diverse catalogue of sun-drenched, melodic music.
With grand plans to eventually build his “Balearica” brand from a radio station into a larger creative hub on the island, Alex was all about connecting with good people and together circumnavigating the corporatisation that constantly threatens our little scene. With releases on each others’ labels and years of great conversations, I always thought I’d get to meet him face to face one day, but we never did get around to it.
Alex always signed off his emails to me with “kissies from Ibiza,” which never failed to make me laugh, so I’ll follow suit. Kissies Alex, and thanks for the music, the positivity, the lessons. Hopefully this little ramble might inspire some readers to dig deeper into the real grassroots underground scene that you so unselfishly helped amplify from Ibiza and out across the world. I’m just sorry I didn’t get around to writing it sooner.
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