Ladies Sing the Blues
The story of Fado ('Portuguese Blues')

It is late Saturday night – or perhaps already Sunday morning. The bar is in a darkness too deep to see the clock on the wall and, in any case, time has ceased to be important. A Gypsy woman stands alone in the open doorway and her powerful, pain–filled voice drifts out into the tangled alleyways of Lisbon's Alfama quarter. Her hands clench with the force of emotion, and as she throws back her head the light from the streetlamp shimmers on her hair. She sings old songs of lost-love, of fateful voyages, of lonely exiles in far-off shores.
It is difficult to remind yourself that she is not truly suffering these painful recollections. There is not a movement from the diners. Cigarettes burn out on the ashtrays. Wine glasses are left untouched. There are several among the listeners who would not understand a word of the Gypsy's lament but the depth of emotion transcends the language barrier. A woman is pouring out a world of heartbreak and this demands the utter respect and silence of the audience. It is always this way when Cidália Moreira sings the 'Portuguese Blues.'
            As the final notes drift up to the washing lines that are strung like bunting over Rua dos Remedios - 'Street of the Remedies' - the listeners clap, sigh and return thoughtfully to their drinks. This deliciously sentimental feeling of hopelessness and, at the same time, faith is known in Portugal as saudade. It is at the heart of the national love for Fado. Saudade has been translated as 'Portuguese melancholy' but it actually goes much deeper; it is a nostalgic yearning for something unattainable – separated lovers or the homesickness of a lonely exile.
You don't need to speak Portuguese to realise that there are few songs that end without some mention of the beloved 'Lisboa.' This ancient music is imbedded in the very soul of the Portuguese capital and it is hard to imagine that it could ever have been born anywhere else.
            Perhaps it is necessary to have suffered to be a fadista and, between sets, Cidália tells me of her childhood in a village to the south and, later, the loss of her fourteen year-old daughter after a long battle with illness. She has been singing in the Fado bars of Lisbon for more than thirty years and feels herself to be Gypsy and a 'Lisboeta' - in that order.
            "This city is special. For a fadista there's nowhere else in the world," she tells me. "Once I was contracted to do a three–month tour of Brazil and ended up staying for four years. I sang in Fado bars all over the country...maybe it even helped my singing to know what it's like to be apart from Lisbon for so long."
In fact Portuguese Blues came of age through people who knew better than anyone the bitterness of being separated from their home. It can be traced to the sentimental ballads of Portuguese sailors, and many of the romantic themes of Lisbon - the beautiful woman with a river for a flowing skirt - may have been conceived on the caravels bound for the New World. But even before the sailors poured the melancholy of their souls into it Fado was already the dance of African slaves in Brazil. What people could have been more qualified to found a music that owes so much to suffering and heartache? Just as North American blues was born out of the plantations of the southern states so this most Portuguese of sounds has roots that can be traced through Brazil and all the way back to Africa.
The name Fado comes from the Latin for fate or destiny. Few people would understand the true meaning of saudade or the cruelty of destiny better than a slave.
When the slave dances arrived in Lisbon in the early 19th century they were outlawed as being too lascivious and over time Fado was stripped of its 'excesses' until, in its purest form, it became simply a single voice and a Portuguese guitar. There was nothing left to disguise a voice that could not carry the full weight of the notes and nothing to dilute the full meanings of the great poets who were the traditional writers of Fado. As it became simpler so it became so much more difficult to perform.
I was not until the 1940s that Fado really came of age and Amália Rodrigues travelled the world as an international ambassador of Fado.
"I don't sing Fado," Amália once said, "Fado sings me."
When she died in 1999 a national election campaign was postponed for three days of official mourning. Today her house is a museum to Fado and a shrine to one of Portugal's goddesses.
At the Café a Brasileira – traditional haunt of Lisbon's poets, artists, actors and fadistas – I met the new 'Ambassador of Fado.'
Mariza is currently Portugal's greatest singer and the undisputed first–lady of Portuguese Blues. Her first three albums have sold more than 500,000 copies worldwide and she consistently fills international venues as far apart as the Hollywood Bowl, the Sydney Opera House and the Royal Albert Hall. Her smooth, sexy voice and chic modern style is also luring young Portuguese back to Fado. At a recent concert on the riverbank no less than 22,000 people gathered in the rain to listen to the girl from Mouraria quarter singing with the Lisbon Symphony Orchestra.
"When I was little my parents ran a small taverna in one of the most traditional neighbourhoods of Lisbon," Mariza says. "I grew up hearing everybody singing. They'd sing on the corners, in the streets. Cleaning windows and singing. Cooking and singing. It was like breathing – everybody used to sing. So it was quite unavoidable that I ended up singing too!"
Mariza is the driving force in pushing Fado beyond the Lisbon backstreets onto the world stage.
"The belief that Fado is minor music that can only be sung in tavernas and only with tragic music – I think that's over," she says. "There are a few of us now who are trying to make Fado a more powerful thing. If that wasn't so I wouldn't have the young generation trying to understand my work. That makes me very proud because when I did my first album nobody was interested in Fado."
In fact Mariza's first album was recorded by a Dutch label and - although Fado is clearly alive and well in Portugal now - her latest album Transparente was recorded in Rio de Janeiro (with Grammy-winning producer Jaques Morelenbaum). In Transparente she pays tribute to some of the great fadistas of past generations as well as picking up where they left off with more modern numbers.
She sees no reason why today's fadistas should be tied to old traditions. Fado was originally very much about current affairs she points out: "At the end of the 19th century Fado was a sort of CNN for the working classes. They didn't know how to read, so Fado was their way to pass on local happenings. They'd sing about the sailors and the ships, about the sea or the weather. They'd sing about things that interested them: maybe a love affair or sitting in a café drinking wine...
"But the poems that were used in Fado a century ago don't necessarily relate to life today so I also try to sing the things of today. I sing for example about the new Lisbon that wants to appear a leader in Europe but at the same time is very tied to its traditional links.
"I could never really live apart from Lisbon," she says with typical fadista loyalty. "I need Lisbon. I need the sun, I need the light. This city has a completely different light. I need to feel it. It's a small city – it's like a heart pumping. We feel everything here."
For all her new-millennium vision Mariza is fascinated by the history and traditions behind Fado. She is writing a book on the subject and is working to try to get UNESCO to recognise the art as a world heritage.
Fado has been described as the oldest urban folk music in the world and Mariza, with an increasing list of big concerts ahead and another (live) album in the pipeline, is on a fast-track to injecting it with a new and irrepressible vitality. Her stage presence is almost as arresting as the wonderfully balanced tones of her voice. She often wears the black shawl that was the traditional uniform of the fadista but her cropped blond hair and her stylish wardrobe is a long way from the typical image. She was born in Mozambique and believes that her African roots are an influence on the way she picks up the rhythms in her songs and the way she moves on stage.
            "Towards the end of recording the album in Rio I bought Jacques a book on Fado because he knew nothing about the history of it," she recalls. "Afterwards he pointed out to me: 'you know you did the 'triangle of Fado,' he said. You're from Africa and you're reaching Portugal through Brazil.' I'd never thought of it like that but it's true. There's a part of me that can relate to the history of Fado all the way back to the beginning."

Where to see Fado in Lisbon:

The old Moorish quarter of Alfama is the most popular place to hear Fado but Bairro Alto and Mouraria are also indefatigable Fado neighbourhoods. Most Fado bars double as restaurants and you usually need to book a table in advance.

Mesa de Frades, Rua dos Remedios, 139-A, Alfama (tel: +351 218 871 452) - far enough removed from the centre of Alfama to be less touristy and known to feature a respected list of singers (including the wonderful Cidália Moreira on Saturday nights).

Taverna del Rey, Largo Chafariz de Dentro, 14-15, Alfama (tel: +351 218 876 754) - Owner-singer Maria Jô-Jô has been the life-and-soul at Taverna del Rey for 36 years and the famous Angolan fadista Ana Maria (who recently made a private appearance for Bill Gates) is a regular fixture here.

Bacalhau de Molho, Beco dos Armazêns do Linho, 2, Alfama (tel: +351 218 865 088) - one of the trendiest and most respected of Fado restaurants.

Tasco do Chico, Rua de Diário de Notícias, 3, Bairro Alto (tel: +351 965 059 670) - a great place on fado vadio nights, when amateurs can get up to sing.

Club de Fado, Rua de S João da Praça, 92-94, Alfama (tel: +351 218 852 704) - a big hit with tour groups but still hosting some talented artists.

Parreirinha de Alfama, Beco do Espírito Santo, 1, Alfama (tel: +351 218 868 209) - also touristy but famed for owner/chef/singer Argentina Santos.

Museums:

Amália Rodrigues Foundation Museum, Rua São Bento, 193, Lisbon (tel: +351 213 971 896) - the house where Amália lived until her death at the age of 79 offers a revealing insight into the glamorous life of 'a real fadista goddess.'

The End