"When Mariza sings, time stands still. Every word is sung with intense concentration, every note hit flawlessly. When she pauses for dramatic effect, we are all with her, caught in her trap.” - Charlie Gillett, BBC
It’s been a long time coming, but now, almost three years on from that luminescent Dublin debut, fado diva Mariza is back.
Sunday 13th November 8pm Vicar Street D8
Special offer from IMC – Table (seats 4) offer €110
Fado’s literal definition is fate, but to the people of Portugal, it carries layers of meaning not found in any dictionary, and within its enigmatic history and hybrid roots resides an understanding of the Portuguese character. In Mariza, fado has found its new diva, an artist worthy of comparison with the Callas-like icon that was the late Amalia Rodriguez.
Born in Mozambique, but brought up in Lisbon since early childhood, fado was never far away, especially so in her parent's restaurant in the old suburb of Mouraria. Immersed in the tradition of the fadista, she was surely destined to become one herself, and over three critically acclaimed albums, she has reinvigorated this most passionate of music.
Her latest CD, Transparente, recorded in Rio with feted Brazilian producer Jacques Morelenbaum, captures the soul of fado, yet also renews it, subtly infusing elements of Brazil, Mozambique and Cape Verde. But fado's haunting melancholia, its intense poetry, minor tonalities and undulating rhythms are always to the fore, the perfect foil for that voice, a study in seductive intensity.
Here is a performer who has it all - glamour, defiance, charisma, arresting looks, a voice to die for and music that unapologetically deals in passion and drama. Augmenting her artful trio of double bass, classical and Portuguese guitars with violin, viola, cello and percussion, she animates her songs with dramatic gesture, controlling time and space around their haunting, yearnful phrases.
Hers is a 21st century fado that communicates directly to the fractured soul, asserting again that music is our common language, a shaft of light into that unspoken place that only begins where the words trail away