Likened to everyone from Les Negresses Vertes to Madness, La Cucina was a fun and fundamental plank in the development of UK roots music of the early 90s. The band was formed in Southampton, England, in 1988, from the ashes of indie outfit Who’s In The Kitchen? Originally a trio comprising Owain Clarke (vocals, guitar, keyboards), Dylan Clarke (bass/vocals) and Eliseo D’Agostino (accordion), they concentrated on recreating Neopolitan-styled songs. However, after performing as a seven piece at a Southampton pub, with Scott Tobin (drums, once a part-time member of the Levellers), Jock Tyldesley (fiddle) and a Sikh priest on tablas, they decided that the band needed to have a more eclectic musical foothold. Enthusiastic audience receptions confirmed that the more dance-orientated their sound was, the better. Tobin joined on a permanent basis, with Rob Greenstock (conga; ex-Steam Kings) completing the line-up in October 1991 (Tyldesley and Dylan Clarke also played with local friends the Flatville Aces, but Clarke opted for La Cucina because of the greater opportunities for songwriting). La Cucina side-stepped musical categorisation by employing Cajun fiddle alongside the percussive force of rave music, Latin American piano and skewed, highly original songs roughly in the spirit of Neopolitan standards. There were some who accused them of not being authentic Italians. (D’Agostino, a second-generation Neopolitan capable of perfectly fluent English, sometimes used to adopt an Italian accent to help get bookings.) However, this was hardly of concern to the band themselves, nor to their audiences: ‘The way that we see it is that we play good dance music, people come along and have a good time, a dance. We see it as a bit of a show really, a spectacle.’ La Cucina’s liberal adoption of Latin traditions to their own ends proved more of an asset than a disclaimer, as can be demonstrated by playing their early cassettes, La Luna Spinosa and Morte Accidentale De Musiciste, alongside their 1994 CD release, Chucheria. Self-produced and promoted, Chucheria offered new listeners a thrilling introduction to the band’s vibrant stage show, but also demonstrated their increasing instrumental sophistication and ability to write songs that borrowed from a number of traditions without compromising the band’s identity. The 1996 follow-up Nabúmla was even better, a seamless collection of songs drawing on a bewildering range of musical styles.