From a Catalan underground comic icon to a steady manager, from a researcher and journalist to a writer, critic, and music producer, he wore many hats with a kind of effortless charisma. A concert organizer and cultural activist who earned the nickname black leg, he stood as an encyclopedia of flamenco, rock, hybridization, and ethnicity, always wearing worn jeans and a leather jacket. There is a vivid image many carry of him, a flash of color among the neons of our cultural history. He taught lessons and offered anecdotes that linger long after the moment has passed.
He left us quickly and calmly, without making a fuss. A life full of hustle and movement, a life that seemed to race forward even as it rested in quiet moments. Three days before his departure, a chance call reminded us that connection remains essential. He answered with the warmth and optimism that defined him, sharing that a transplant was progressing well, despite some urgent issues still to resolve. His mind stayed sharp, his spirit stubbornly hopeful, and his body faced an exhausting medical journey with the dignity of someone who respects the past while embracing the present. He carried memories of a long, storied career, and the dance he loved remained a stubborn echo within him.
His body kept a memory of all that had been done to it, a stubborn archive of every step and gesture, a reminder that the wall between experience and life is never as solid as we imagine.
In three different chapters, his life intersected with others through friendships and commitments that defined the journey. The first meeting happened in a grand newsroom on Calle Orense in the late nineties, where initial suspicions blossomed into a lasting friendship. When the new century began with uncertainty, they rode forward together once more, driven by shared purpose and mutual respect.
The second decade of the twenty-first century ended with him steadier than before, recognizing the wreckage left by late nights and relentless work. Yet it also brought a remarkable calm, a depth of knowledge, and a sense of responsibility, especially evident in the care he gave his mother, never leaving her side, and in the love he lavished on his son, a constant source of pride and joy.
That moment became the push toward a grand restoration, a renewed project that marked the culmination of a lifetime of effort. Thanks to the support of the university, the state legislature, and regional institutions, a monumental work began to take shape, shedding light on a long and immeasurable contribution to the city. It was a time to remember and celebrate the stories of the Alicante movement, to honor a life that always sought to connect people through culture and memory.
There are chapters of a city that cannot be understood without the book that lives within Esteban’s essence. His being, his soul, and his heart were inseparable from the city itself, a companion to the unique fabric of Alicante’s history.
He kept a finger on the pulse of recording studios until the very end, supported by a vast community of colleagues who shared updates through social networks and phone calls. Even in retirement from the daily grind, he remained aware of every detail, every person who crossed his path.
Whether the topics were football, politics, literature, or the enduring value of friendship, his clearest thoughts drifted into the digital world. Free from prejudice, he stood as a masterful communicator, generous in dialogue and teaching, without airs or pretense. He left behind a sparkle in Alicante that continues to lift the spirits of those who remember him.
Say hello to old friends for him. He will always be cherished here, a presence that remains bright in the fabric of the city and in the hearts of those who knew him well.