words: Paulo Carmona (edited by Raquel Pinheiro) photos: Daniela Tedim
Ladies & Gentlemen — welcome to the celebration of sound.
I cannot remember attending a concert at the Porto Coliseum, and there have surely been well over fifty by now,with such outstanding sound. And this is precisely where I want to begin. Credit must be given to the entire team of musicians and technicians who allow us to experience music in its purest and most beautiful state.
Father John Misty appeared on stage in all his musical splendour, surrounded by musicians capable of performing at the very highest level of what I consider quality music.
What happened there was magic. It was moving, overwhelming, and capable of making the hairs stand up on the head of even a centenarian with no hair left to stand. Everything in that music was perceptible, everything was tangible, everything was everything.
A consummate performer, possessing the natural poise of his essence as a cult artist, he wandered across the stage like a siren whose song captivates the audience with a visceral diplomat’s passport.
With a set built around 21 songs from his already long career, which from the very first second sent the audience, who almost completely filled the Coliseum, into raptures, there was no shortage of favourites such as Mr Tillman, Chateau, Buddy’s Rendezvous, Mental Health, the joyfulness of Novel contrasting with the nostalgic introspection of Magic Mountain and the agonised, warlike energy of Payoff in flashes of rhythmic poetry. She Cleans Up, of course, and finally the magnificent Mahashmashana.
That scarlet red backdrop, the deep blue tones and the lighting did the rest, and everything was simply… just perfect!
Presenting songs from his latest album, Sahel (2023), Bombino returned with the hypnotic blend of desert blues and rock that has made him one of the most distinctive guitarists of his generation.
Often described as a pioneer of Tuareggae, a fusion of traditional Berber rhythms and rock and roll, Bombino sings and writes primarily in Tamasheq. Watching him perform, however, labels quickly become secondary to the experience itself.
The concert began acoustically. Bombino, accompanied by drummer Corey Wilhelm and a bassist whose name sadly escaped me, eased the audience into the evening with gentle rhythms and fluid melodies. Dressed in traditional Tuareg garments, the trio immediately established an atmosphere that felt both intimate and expansive.
The first songs unfolded with graceful ease. The bass remained smooth and steady beneath Bombino’s singing, while the guitar moved between delicate flourishes and syncopated desert-blues patterns. There were occasional vocal exclamations, almost calls carried on the wind, and moments where the music shifted unexpectedly between melancholy and propulsion.
One particular acoustic number began like a lament, only to transform into something far more rhythmic. What fascinated me was the contrast between the apparent mournfulness of the voice and the increasing momentum generated by the guitar and percussion. It created a tension that felt both ancient and modern.
As the instrumental passages expanded, Bombino and the bassist repeatedly moved face to face, exchanging phrases with a distinctly rock-and-roll energy. The chemistry between them was one of the evening’s recurring pleasures, while Corey Wilhelm’s drumming provided a powerful foundation throughout.
Then came the transition that many in the audience had been waiting for.
The acoustic guitar was set aside and Bombino plugged in.
Instantly we entered the territory for which he is best known: electric desert blues infused with the spirit of Hendrix.
Bombino has often spoken about learning guitar by watching videos of Jimi Hendrix and Dire Straits, and while the influence is present, what emerges is unmistakably his own voice. The economy of movement is remarkable. There are no unnecessary gestures, no theatrical flourishes. The hands move sparingly, yet the sound that emerges is immense.
Addressing the audience in French, Bombino thanked everyone for their support and spoke about the years since his previous visit. The response from the crowd was warm and immediate.
From there the concert steadily gathered momentum. Traditional melodies intertwined with psychedelic textures. Guitar and bass once again found themselves in conversation, sometimes duelling, sometimes dancing around one another. The bassist was extraordinary. More than once I found myself writing the same note in my notebook: “that bass, that bass, that bass.”
One particularly exhilarating piece felt almost like a desert cavalcade. The bass groove was irresistibly danceable, the drums drove relentlessly forward, and Bombino’s guitar soared above it all with long, electrifying solos that somehow felt both effortless and deeply rooted.
As the evening progressed, the audience became increasingly animated. The bassist joked in English that he knew everyone wanted to dance and apologised for the chairs. It was a fair observation. Before long people were standing, moving and swaying wherever space allowed.
I eventually joined those dancing along the upper steps at the side of the auditorium. Down by the stage, one audience member repeatedly appeared, danced enthusiastically and then disappeared again, becoming a small performance within the performance.
The later part of the set moved through a variety of moods. There were moments of traditional singing, extended instrumental passages, slower and almost jazzy sections, and long stretches where the audience clapped along with the rhythm section while Bombino explored melodic pathways on guitar.
One of the final highlights featured a wonderfully grooving drum solo followed by an equally captivating bass feature. Bombino stepped back, danced, and allowed his bandmates to take centre stage before all three musicians returned to a hypnotic, almost primeval groove that felt as though it had emerged directly from the desert itself.
For the encore, Bombino returned alone. Guitar in hand, he began with a solitary groove and a series of twanging phrases before the bassist and drummer gradually rejoined him. It was a fitting ending: a reminder that, whether acoustic or electric, intimate or expansive, Bombino’s music ultimately rests on the power of rhythm, groove and connection.
Desert blues may be the term most often attached to his music, but on this evening it often felt just as much like a rock concert. Not because it abandoned its roots, but because it embraced them with such confidence that they could converse effortlessly with Hendrix, psychedelia, groove and pure rock-and-roll energy.
And judging by the number of people dancing by the end, the audience understood that perfectly.
At the appointed hour, Pomadinha, a quartet from Vila Nova de Gaia, took to the stage at Mouco, all dressed only in boxers. For half an hour, they warmed up the audience with their energetic, predominantly instrumental rock, with some humor mixed in. But nothing prepared us for what was to come.
At 9:30 pm, a new quartet took to the stage, all with slight clownish makeup on their eyes.
Harry Wilkinson, the muscular, shirtless vocalist, immediately established a connection with the crowd, greeting some people in the front row and asking for space in the sold-out venue, creating a brief tension.
Although the rhythm section wasn’t very audible in the initial songs, that didn’t stop the crowd from responding, and the mosh pit exploded to the sound of Bloodsport. With a vocal style between rap and punk, Harry criticizes the social pressures on individuals over a sound that is very much the band’s modus operandi: alternating between intense and serene moments, in a dynamic tension/release, and an original blend of musical genres.
Joe Carroll’s alto saxophone is almost ubiquitous, accompanying the register, sometimes aggressive, sometimes contemplative, where jazz and rock meet. Trenches infuses hip hop into the structure, with the hypnotic saxophone mantra accompanying the incitement to war against bad traditions.
Break The Tension expresses the frustration of modern times over the relentless rhythmic pace of Matt Buonaccorsi and Jacob Hayes, which doesn’t allow the tension to break. Harry briefly descends into the audience and, upon returning, abandons his score of rapper gestures for a hypnotic undulation of his arms above his head.
The debut album, Pain To Power, released last year, is the main attraction, whose live versions are more extensive and turbocharged, but there was also room for older songs, such as Zeitgeist, where a post-punk pulse intertwines with words against large corporations, punctuated by some guitar distortion and saxophone oscillations. The guitar comes in with more force in Thunder, where the discourse intensifies in a crescendo, softens in the middle section and resumes the crescendo.
The beautiful and lengthy Born To Die, in which Harry’s initial spoken word gives way to a virtuoso and powerful vocal performance has various movements, where free jazz swirls noise rock, where vocals and saxophone get lost in arabesques, where a guitar solo is soaked, and where, in a moment of near silence, Joe shouts in the middle of the corridor created in the crowd, purging his and others’ demons through shouts, before climbing back to the stage and resuming the final stretch of the song, returning to the crowd in crowd surf mode.
This is followed by the equally beautiful Saoirse, a hymn to individuality in 3/4, in which the band closes in around the drums and expands physically and musically. Mental health and the need for connection were highlighted before The Invisible Man, and we were invited to hug the person closest to us.
In this song, melancholic beauty alternates with fury and incitement, the saxophone sounds urgent, ritualistic gestures hand in hand with chants, the syncopated rhythms and breaks of the drums create organized chaos, and the deep bass stirs the guts and agitates the bodies. The intense Look Down on Us is followed by Harry’s request to “raise your fists in solidarity and love,” something we gladly did for long seconds.
They ended the concert with the instrumental Resisting Resistance, a post-rock song with the landform of a hill to rest the ears but not the consciences. The people of Palestine (with a flag displayed on stage), Lebanon, Yemen, Ukraine, Sudan, and other conflict zones were not forgotten.
Harry highlighted at the end that this concert is a unique human experience of connection, and this communion was very palpable. Spontaneous hugs at the end between the band members reinforce this truth.
No matter how many words I put here, nothing would compare to the intensity of emotions in harmony during those couple of hours, nor to everything I witnessed. If you can, don’t miss the next opportunity to see Maruja.
words: António Carvalho (edited by Raquel Pinheiro) photos: Ricardo Silva
Upon arriving at RCA – Radioclube Agramonte concert hall, I spotted a low table in the center of the room, with a paraphernalia of interconnected devices under a dim light. A real challenge for Ricardo Silva, our photographer.
The spectators were seated or lying on mats, rugs, and cushions. It seemed an invitation to immersion and contemplation. Concepción was kneeling in front of this table. Although she is a multidisciplinary artist, this concert focused on the sound she created using the chosen devices, which included a cassette player and two walkmen.
She delicately manipulated buttons and potentiometers, inserting and removing cassettes, completely focused on producing sounds, loops, and drones resulting from the manipulation of the recordings on these tapes. Sometimes the sources were identifiable, but that didn’t seem to be the goal.
The transitions were smooth but clearly defined. This exploration of the sound spectrum, more concentrated in the mid-frequencies, but with occasional strong bass and atmospheric treble, rarely presented obvious rhythmic patterns, as drones and sonic brush strokes dominated.
This entire sequence of ambient themes took the audience on a wordless sonic journey, which induced alternating sensations in me, such as harmony and connection, agitation and strangeness. I am convinced that this was the purpose.
Concepcion clarified at the end that this presentation was based on her latest album, El Sol de los Muertos.
words: António Carvalho (edited by Raquel Pinheiro) photos: António Carvalho
Attending a concert by Canadian singer-songwriter Sean Nicholas Savage is like discovering a hidden gem. The modest stage of Lovers & Lollypops seemed too small for everything he delivered in just over an hour.
His exuberant presence, his larger-than-life poetry, his attention towards the audience, his virtuoso and expressive voice are just parts of a larger whole that is difficult to describe. His electronic pop, heavily indebted to the eighties, reveals itself as confessional, honest and with a dose of apparent naivety, where joy and melancholy, loss and gain, mystery and revelation, pleasure and pain coexist, sometimes within the same song.
Whether in ballads or upbeat music, the classic themes of love – the euphoria of passion, the discovery of the other, the broken hearts – are dominant and served in catchy and well-crafted melodies, like many of the pop classics. Sean’s excellent technical mastery of his voice, including a delightful falsetto, doesn’t take away any of the moment’s authenticity, as if he were pouring his heart out and offering it to the audience.It was almost impossible to take your eyes off this magnetic, barefoot figure.
Besides the privileged ones in the audience, Clara Phends on synthesizers and Max-Elie Laroche on electronic drums joined him in this brief, intimate journey. Sean covered a representative sample of his prolific discography, with some emphasis on his latest album The Knowing, a record he is very proud of, so he told me after the concert.
He even granted a request from the audience, performing half of Chin Chin, and finished with one of his favourites, the single It’s Happening. Thank you, beautiful freak!
There’s a photo gallery of the concert on our Instagram
words: António Carvalho (edited by Raquel Pinheiro) photos: António Carvalho & Telma Mota
A Noite do Cometa (The Night of the Comet Night) was a collective and multidisciplinary event planned by Rui Garcia some time ago. It aims to be an immersive underground culture experience, with bodies and minds present and stimulated.
The chosen location, like the format, is unconventional, belonging to a coworking space that was adapted for the purpose, where a somewhat mysterious corridor preceded the main chamber. Several stylized artistic and visual installations accompanied the entire night.
The musical part was continuous, with DJ sets by A Boy Named Sue and Rodas alternating with concerts. The first performance on stage was by Gabci, author of an energetic one-woman show. Her well-trained voice, sometimes pop, sometimes in riot girl mode, is laid on a set of danceable rhythms and electronic melodies and atmospheres, filling the room along with her strong presence.
The concert ended with Inner Void, a duet with Cunhal Caveira.
Bulha, the band that includes organizer Rui Garcia, took to the stage shortly after the announced time. The pure energy of rock, guaranteed by the trinity of drums, bass, and guitar, is combined with a strong social and political message delivered by the two vocalists, who complement each other in register (between singing and declamation) and in posture, between the confrontation of Pedro Vasco Oliveira and the theatricality of Paulo Carmona. It was impossible to remain indifferent to this performance.
The last band was Baleia Baleia Baleia, already well known for their concerts, a dimension where they truly shine. The appeal is constant, whether through the verbal incitement of Manuel Molarinho, who moves among humor, love, and a lef-wing stance, or through the danceable punk imprinted by Ricardo Cabral’s drums and Molarinho’s distorted bass.
The result is a commotion in the audience, complete with mosh pit, mass chants, and an apotheotic ending with the band descending into the crowd and chanting “We can shout: let it pass!”, from Exorcismo.
The success of this event proves that, where there’s a will, there’s room and an audience for other ways of showcasing what’s happening in Porto’s underground culture. We look forward to the next edition.
There’s a photo gallery of A Noite do Cometa on our Instagram.
words: António Carvalho (edited by Raquel Pinheiro) photos: Vítor Neves
Rita Braga says that, despite living in Porto since 2011, she doesn’t play often in her adopted city. She has traveled physically and musically to many corners of the world, but her latest album, Fado Tropical which she presented live at Rádio Clube de Agramonte is her first album entirely sung in Portuguese.
In the small spaces between songs, Rita explained its concept to the audience. She went back to the history and origins of fado, drew inspiration from research and literature dedicated to this theme (mainly A triste Canção do Sul), and brought many songs from that era (late 19th and early 20th centuries) back to the present day and to her peculiar style. The exotic mix of old melodies with instruments foreign to traditional fado (Rita’s inseparable ukulele, and Rui Rodrigues on the marimba, percussion, electronics, and the banjo) is harmonious, continuing to prove that fado is a permeable language.
The projected images reflect this coexistence of eras, alternating between photos, posters, and period articles with black and white portraits of Rita, as well as her stage pose (that of old fado singers) and attire. Her high-pitched, fresh, and somewhat unpretentious voice, without the mannerisms and virtuosity often associated with fado, revives songs performed by Ercília Costa, Maria Alice, and Hermínia Silva in the 1920s and 1930s, where it is clear that several themes remain very relevant today.
A version of the classic Chão de Estrelas was also heard, accompanied by an old recording of Armandinho’s guitar, establishing a link between fado and its possible Brazilian origins.
At the end, Rita presented us with one of the original songs from the album, based on a poem by Catarina Santiago Costa. Special mention should also be made of the other musician on stage, Rui Rodrigues (or “Pacheco III,” as Rita nicknamed him, as a reference to Hermínia Silva’s guitarist).
there’s a short reel and a photo gallery of the concert on our Instagram.
Noite do Cometa is a unique event Saturday 16, stretching to the early hours of Sunday 17, at a special space with concerts by Gabci, Baleia Baleia Baleia and Bulha the band of our very own Paulo Carmona, and DJ sets by A Boy Named Sue and Rodas at OPO’LAB, Porto (Rua D. João IV 643), doors 9pm. Tickets: €16.50 Euros + taxes (online at Shotgun)
Schedule: 9pm: Doors/DJs 9:45pm: Gabci 10:30pm: Bulha 11:30pm: Baleia Baleia Baleia 00:30am: DJ a Boy Named Sue | Rodas 2:30am: The Comet Passed By
words: António Carvalho (edited by Raquel Pinheiro) photos: António Carvalho
Lovers & Lollypops’ garage, transformed into a concert venue, was the chosen stage for Glyders, a three-piece from Chicago, performing in Porto.
It was a perfect setting. Garage rock is one of the distinctly American strands running through their sound, alongside southern rock, psychedelia, experimentalism, classic rock ’n’ roll, blues, and even country, all filtered in their own way.
The metronomic cadence of Miles Luttrell, the guest drummer on this tour, and the powerful bass lines of Eliza Weber form the rhythmic engine that carries Josh Condon’s guitar lines. He moves between melody and dissonance, between substance and explosion, between clarity and change, between a stable, conventional structure and sudden shifts in cadence and time signatures. Over this, his somewhat cryptic lyrics take shape, supported and expanded by Eliza’s harmonies.
A sense of unity emerges, creating a deep fusion between band and audience, where bodies, legs, and heads respond instinctively. The ten tracks from their two albums sound more intense live, more elusive, even when played right in front of us.
There was even time for an uninterrupted guitar string change, met with enthusiasm by what Josh called a “very polite” audience, and for an encore with the long and multifaceted Steppin’ / Tell Me About the Rabbit.
Rock is alive. It crosses our path, then disappears in a cloud of dust.
words: Paulo Carmona (freely translated by Raquel Pinheiro) photos: Vítor Neves
Novos Românticos
A punch to the gut of the patriots. That’s what it is.
Any self-respecting lusitano, with a clear sense of their country’s history, recent or otherwise, will feel the almost unbearable weight of the stark, unvarnished reality served up by Novos Românticos. The silver platter is the sound, let that be clear.
This isn’t just music, it isn’t just musical aesthetics. It’s intervention, it’s agony, it’s the near-psychotic despair of someone who feels the weight of Portugalidade. Someone disillusioned with an Abril that seems ever more distant, with fewer and fewer reasons for pride.
David Félix is the man on duty, presenting himself to the audience as a kind of modern-day guru, fully prepared to press on the wound until it bleeds.
He carries an intrinsic ability to command attention: monochord vocal delivery, the sinuous movement of his body to the measured pulse of an electronic post-punk, hypnotic, corrosive, built on pre-recorded loops of guitar, drums, bass, keyboards, and samplers. He drifts across the stage, almost unsteady, faintly lascivious, but the message lands. That seems to be what drives them, and they achieve it with precision.
They performed material from across their repertoire, with a strong focus on their full-length work, Criptopátria. Worth highlighting are Pátria, Mesa Posta, and a very original version of the iconic Joy Division’s Love Will Tear Us Apart.
Bastonada @ Mondo Bizarre Magazine/Vítor Neves
Bastonada
Bastonada closed the night, delivering verbal and musical blows with their interventionist Electro Punk, edged with rap. It’s pure energy from beginning to end, without a moment’s respite.
They’re young, intense, sharp, and they fire off their songs as if the world were ending tomorrow.
The instruments are always front and centre, and their masked vocalist is a force of nature.
The insolent anger of their youth, combined with the level of competence in their instrumentation, points to a project with real substance and a great deal still to give. It will be interesting to watch.
Concert clips and photo galleries on our Instagram
Mondo Bizarre Magazine 