It was 20, no 30, maybe 40 years ago no it can’t be? Can it? Almost that I suppose, that I first heard Mazariba play. It was in West Wales. The alternative community was thriving that summer, Meigan Fayre was in the planning phase at Cwm Meigan under the Preseli hills and the sun bounced along the blue stone ridge till it was time to party. The little stream was low enough to drive along to get back out to the tarmac road and the hedge rows were blooming in a haze of colour. Guys in loons and cheesecloth shirts and beautiful women piled out of Vee dub vans and Morris minors, battered old land rovers and assorted rusty wrecks. Flowing print dresses and the occasional Afghani silver bangle flashed in the low golden sun. The gig was happening probably at the village hall in Abercych. Other Afghani products and herbs from behind hedgerows were going up in smoke while the hall filled with local celebrities. Any remaining inhibitions fell away as we danced, we flirted, we kissed, and we fell in love. The songs played out the rhythm. The people played out the songs. The soft parade filtered past with the endless promise and joy and because of all that the band was doomed to breakup. If the Band left the ancient kingdom of Dyfed would the spell break? Could the innocent songs survive the onslaught of the impending world of urban touring and punk non-sensibilities waiting around the corner? Well not really but wait… I’m waiting….  Wait some more OK? OK…. I’m waiting…   so in 2011 Roger the tooth tracks down the film of Meigan Fayre 1975. Shall we put this on in Cardigan at Small World Theatre? OK send out the call, let’s email the six degrees of separation. The drum beat goes out and wow what a response all these people coming back together. The tribes start gathering from the 4 corners of the world and Crymych. I just got word MAZARIBA will re-form and play after the film, great thundering flashbacks. The band members jump on planes and boats and trains, cars and vans and step back on stage. The magic spell of Dyfed reveals their beautiful selves in the theatre lights, ready to fill the floor with dancing from the people whose bodies respond to the remembered rhymes and rhythms. The lyrics of the past finding a way to relocate back into the present. Let’s not leave it so long to meet up and boogie again. So lets make a CD folks and here it is with all the benefits of this digital age facilitating it’s crisscross Atlantic mixes. England, Wales, France, New York, and L.A. Bill - Small World Theatre - 2013