ZZ Top

Somewhere between the Mediterranean breeze drifting across Valencia Marina and the opening riff of "Got Me Under Pressure," FAR Festival stopped feeling like a boutique summer event and started resembling a full-blown rock 'n' roll revival. The backdrop was postcard perfect, the beer was flowing, the sun had finally dipped below the skyline, and thousands of fans—ranging from lifelong devotees in faded Eliminator T-shirts to curious younger festival-goers—were ready for one thing: riffs.

ZZ Top didn't disappoint. Billy Gibbons, still looking impossibly cool beneath his trademark hat and beard, walked on stage with the effortless swagger of someone who has spent more than five decades proving that less really is more. Alongside bassist Elwood Francis and drummer Frank Beard, the Texans delivered ninety minutes of blues-drenched rock that felt simultaneously timeless and completely alive.

Before the headliners took over, La Perra Blanco had already lit the fuse. The Spanish rockabilly powerhouse ripped through an electrifying opening set that mixed frantic guitar work with vintage attitude and enough raw energy to shake the marina loose from its foundations. She won over plenty of new fans and was the perfect choice to warm up a crowd that was clearly ready to trade the beach for the blues.

By the time ZZ Top emerged, the atmosphere around the FAR stage had shifted into something special. The crowd packed tightly towards the front while families, couples and groups of friends spread across the open-air venue, framed by yachts, palm trees and the glowing lights of Valencia's waterfront. It's hard to imagine a better setting for music that was born under the blazing skies of Texas.

The setlist wasted little time getting down to business. "Gimme All Your Lovin'," "Sharp Dressed Man" and "Waitin' for the Bus" landed early, each greeted like an old friend. There was no unnecessary chatter, no overblown theatrics—just three musicians completely locked into the groove.

That's always been ZZ Top's greatest trick. They make difficult things look ridiculously easy. Billy Gibbons remains one of rock's most underrated guitar players, squeezing filthy blues licks and scorching solos out of his battered Gibson with an economy that most players spend a lifetime chasing. Every note served the song. Every solo said exactly what it needed to before stepping politely aside.

The rhythm section never let up. Elwood Francis has settled seamlessly into the band following the loss of Dusty Hill, bringing his own personality while respecting the group's unmistakable chemistry. Frank Beard, ironically the only member without a famous beard, remained the band's engine room, keeping every groove tight and relentless.

Visually, the show stayed refreshingly uncomplicated. The famous spinning guitars appeared, vintage hot-rod imagery flashed across the giant screens, and the lighting bathed the stage in deep reds, blues and golds without ever distracting from the music. In an era where concerts increasingly resemble Broadway productions, ZZ Top continue to prove that charisma can't be programmed.

Then came the songs everyone had been waiting for. "Legs" transformed the marina into one giant outdoor dancefloor. Even those who had arrived out of curiosity suddenly found themselves singing every chorus. Beer cups were raised, strangers danced together and phones lit up the warm Valencian night.

Closing with "La Grange," ZZ Top unleashed the filthy Texas groove that has inspired generations of rock bands. The riff remains irresistible. Forty years on, it still carries the same swagger, the same grit and the same ability to make thousands of people move without thinking twice.

One of the most impressive things about the evening was how naturally ZZ Top fitted into FAR Festival. Their music might have been born thousands of miles away, but under the warm Mediterranean sky it felt completely at home. Festivals often chase the newest trend, but nights like this are a reminder that great rock music doesn't have an expiry date.

As the final notes echoed across Valencia Marina and the crowd slowly drifted towards the bars, food stalls and waterfront promenade, there was a shared sense that everyone had witnessed something increasingly rare: a legendary band that still sounds hungry. No gimmicks. No nostalgia trip. Just three musicians, a catalogue packed with classics and ninety minutes of blues-rock delivered exactly as it should be—loud, loose and effortlessly cool.

Words and photos: Rhyan Paul