Category: Concerts

words: Paulo Carmona (freely translated by Raquel Pinheiro); photos: Paulo Carmona

I didn’t even took a flowers bouquet! Damn it!

How could I know I was on my way to a celebration? Neither I nor the others who were there could. No one knew that they were going to a reunion party with an old friend that not seen for a long time.

Well fellows, that is how Jay Jay Johanson sees it. He is probably one of the warmest and most tender solo artists I have ever seen. He celebrates the end of each song with effusive gestures of thanks and love for others.

The set started with Why Wait Until Tomorrow; So Tell the Girls That I’m back in Town and There’s no Easy Way to Say Goodbye revealing all its happy, nostalgic and contemplative melancholy. Closed in on himself and leaning on the microphone’s tripod from where he enjoys picking up the songs, he walks around the stage, gently, with a slight smile stamped on his face. He plays with his voice, oscillating between dark low tones and midium highs filled with melodies and harmonies.

From trip-hop to electroclash through synth-pop, wiith melodic jazz breezes everywhere, I found myself having sensations only bossa nova can give. Perhaps it was the beautiful cadence of Erik’s keyboard sounds, with Jay Jay Johanson’s smooth, nostalgic vocals that make this magic. I don’t know, but it was the feeling I was left with.

The heat in the CCOP room is such that Jay spares no effort and several times fetches water to offer and cool the audiencec A very elegant and nice gentleman, that’s what he is.

She Doesn’t Live Here Anymore gets a big ovation. But not the biggest of all. Meanwhile he introduces Erik saying he was once his dance teacher, if you can believe it. Met, of course, with laughter and squeals and happy hooting. The biggest ovation came from Heard Somebody Whistle.

After a short encore Jay Jay returns with a glass of white wine on his hand and makes magic with his voice by singing acappella, just leaning on himself. Brilliant! Someone beside me comments on the fact and lets it out in an emotional tone, that said gentleman has the best of voices.

The concert ends with Jay Jay Johanson greeting everyone who’s there in front of the stage and immediately dives into the middle of the audience and get lost in hugs, kisses and photos. Interestingly, to accompany this session, Frankie’s My Way is heard interpreted by Sid Vicious, the legendary bassist of the Sex Pistols, and soon after, Elvis Presley’s In the Ghetto. I don’t think anyone would be waiting for it. Not even me! Superfun!

A seguir a um curto encore, volta de copo de vinho branco na mão e faz magia com a voz ao cantar à capela, apenas apoiado em si mesmo. Brilhante! Alguém ao meu lado comenta o facto e deixa sair em tom emocionado, que aquele senhor tem a melhor das vozes.

O concerto termina com Jay Jay Johanson a cumprimentar toda a gente que está logo ali, na frente do palco, para logo a seguir mergulhar no meio da audiência e perder-se entre abraço, beijos e fotos. Curiosamente, a acompanhar esta sessão, ouve-se o My Way do Frankie interpretada por Sid Vicious, o lendário baixista dos Sex Pistols, e logo após, In the Ghetto do Elvis Presley. Acho que ninguém estaria à espera. Nem mesmo eu! Super fun.

A Space-Time Odyssey

words & photos: Marcos Leal; editing; Raquel Pinheiro

Last Wednesday night the Suggia room at Casa da Música served as a spaceship for the German trio Tangerine Dream, so that the audience in Porto could embark on a sidereal journey on their unique visit to our country held within the scope of Musica & Revolução (Music & Revolution) 2023 cycle.

The trio that currently performs under the name Tangerine Dream is composed of Thorsten Quaeschning, Hoshiko Yamane and Paul Frick that were not even born at the time of the band’s formation which highlights the transformative and evolutionary component of a project founded by Edgar Froese in 1967, which remained a member over the years until his death in 2015 and of which Thorsten Quaeschning was the “chosen successor”.

The audience at Sala Suggia highlighted the timelessness and transversality of a project that has been with us for several decades. Grandparents and grandchildren could be seen in the audience, people who grew old with the music of the electronic pioneers and people who came to discover its origins and evolution.

The trio entered the stage a few minutes after 21:30 under a round of applause, taking their places on the machines. Thorsten in the center, on a level above the stage, like the commander of a Star Trek, greeted the audience with a timid voice recording in Portuguese, immediately starting the musical journey that would last for more than two hours, to the sound of syncopated and pulsating melodies from Stratosfear, a theme from 1976. From then on, time came and went not following any temporal order. The screen behind the band served as a window into the world and imaginary of Tangerine Dream and giving context to each theme played by them, with images reminiscent of graphics from video games to sci-fi cinema, also referring the work done for cinematographic soundtracks. As an example Betrayal a theme of the 1977 film Sorcerer.

The journey had several stops and sound and visual landscapes with themes such as Tangram (set 1), Raum, Love On A Real Traim, Los Santos City Map, Continuum, Portico, among others from the vast repertoire. From the oldest and most recent work which the current line-up manages to approach in a very coherent way, bringing the oldest themes closer to the most recent edited work that results from archival work from samples left by the former founder Edgar Froese.

Despite the long concert, the audience asked for an encore with a standing ovation. The band followed with a long one theme, some people ended up leaving early, considering Thursday was a workday.

An the end, Thorsten introduced the remaining members greeted with with applause by the audience and a promise of a return soon, after a few good years without visiting the city.

Already heading for the stage exit, Thorsten steps back to ask for a final round of applause for the late founder of Tangerine Dream.

The show reached the end with the satisfied feeling of the audience having witnessed history.

words: Neno Costa (freely translated by Raquel Pinheiro; photos: Telma Mota

Tim Hecker (b.1974, Vancouver, Canada) is a reference in the electronic music world. A sculptor of environments his discography is an experimental journey that providing unusual itineraries, tinged with evocations and spirituality.

The performance at gnration in Braga was the pretext for the presentation of his latest record No Highs (April, 2023). With a sober presence on stage shrouded in a constant haze inviting immersive states, Tim Hecker offered an endless dive into the minimal universe. We were dragged into a resounding, ascetic, almost shamanic waterway, against which it would not be worth fighting.

We allowed ourselves be led on an oceanic journey through territories without words, in which we swim inside ourselves, led by layers of sound that merge, blend and generate new landscapes, in a lycergic, hypnotic and involving continuum.

texto: Neno Costa; fotos: Telma Mota

Tim Hecker (n.1974, Vancouver, Canadá) é uma referência no mundo da música electrónica. Escultor de ambientes, a sua discografia é uma viagem experimental, proporcionando roteiros insólitos, tingidos de evocações e espiritualidade.

A atuação no gnration, em Braga, foi pretexto para a apresentação do seu último trabalho, No Highs (Abril, 2023). Com uma presença sóbria em palco envolta numa constante neblina convidativa a estados imersivos, Tim Hecker ofereceu um mergulho infindável no universo minimal. Fomos arrastados para um agueiro sonoro, ascético, quase xamânico, contra o qual não valeria a pena lutar.

Deixamos-nos conduzir numa viagem oceânica por territórios sem palavras, em que nadamos para dentro de nós mesmos, conduzidos por camadas sonoras que se vão fundindo, mesclando e gerando novas paisagens, num continuum licérgico, hipnótico e envolvente.

In A State Of Deep Contemplation

words & photos: João Vilares; editing: Raquel Pinheiro

Bill Callahan takes to the stage accompanied by Matt Kinsey (guitar) Jim White (drums) and Dustin Laurenzi (saxophone) for what thesecond concert of his European tour – ranging April 14th to 27th and in addition to Lisbon and Braga includes Madrid, Valencia, Barcelona, Bordeaux, Rennes, Paris, Lille, Brussels and Amsterdam, in a total of 13 shows.

The completely sold out spectacular Theatro Circo’s Main Hall, in Braga was the perfect atmosphere for what Bill announced: “As we’re coming out of dreams/ And we’re coming back to dreams”, from the chorus of First Bird.

The motto was set for the script of an American folk story about simple people in a wild land where poetry and overwhelming love are in the most mundane things and therefore so easy to get caught up in the feelings that are also, after all, of our own.

Without ever introducing himself or any member of his band and parsimoniously interacting with the audience, Bill Callahen made it clear that he was there for the music and that his extraordinary voice, the details of White’s jazzy drums, the almost psychedelic solos of Laurenzi’s saxophone and the perfection of Kinsey’s guitar were more than enough of a business card. If it was!

Predictably, Bill Callahan has mostly gifted us with songs from his latest album, Reality (2022). There was, however, room for other more or less inescapable themes of his discography, like Cowboy(Gold Record, 2020), Small Plane (Dream River, 2013), Drover (Apocalypse, 2011) or, already in the encore, the beautiful Too Many Birds (Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle, 2009), not before visiting Smog in Hit The Ground Running (Knock Knock, 1999) and Keep Some Steady Friends Around (Rain On Lens, 2001).

Natural Information served as a farewell to Portugal and, despite the inevitable feeling of missing one or another song, it did not prevent getting us “in a state of deep contemplation”.

Raw Power

words & photos: Raquel Pinheiro

There are front row seats and then there is from row standing by the stage, almost upon it, with Nick Oliveri a few centimeters from you. Or crouched, leaning against the stage monitor that happens to be on the floor. Either way, surrounded by fellow concert goers, gathered in a semi-circle, all going with the flow (pun intended). Flow, in your face, straightforward, energetic, speed up, semi-calmness interrupted by loud, abrupt screams or a shouting shortly broken by some mellowness are some ways of describing Nick Oliveri’s concert at Hard Rock Cafe in Porto.

It is Nick, dressed in black trousers and trainers and dark green t-shirt with a Nick giving a middle finger salute, an acoustic-electric guitar, a microphone, a raspy voice, and us. There are no barriers, no middle-men. We’re there, absorbing the rawness, feeling the sway of the floor boards, our jumpiness and singing along, dancing, grooving as on full gear as the man on stage. It’s a give and take from both sides, feeding from each other energy.

From Kuyuss’ Green Machiche till the end of the encore, Nick’s head, forehead and guitar become increasingly wet and sweaty, glittering water lines running down the black wood body. Between beginning and end there are Kuyss, Mondo Generator, Queens of the Stone Age songs, and boy do those songs rock the boat and throw us for a loop. Oliveri’s delivery is fearless, down to earth, to the heights of true punkness veering into daredevilness, or totally diving into it. At a point, my notebook gets a spit, or was it a drop of sweat? Both?

By Feel Good Hit of The Summer we’re loud singing and screaming the hallucinated acceleration of Nicotine, Valium, Vicodin, marijuana, ecstasy and alcohol in a maniacal crescendo, then Nick picks it up, but we’re back to those words Nicotine, Valium, Vicodin, marijuana, ecstasy and alcohol that if the vice squad was around would have lead to an interesting evening. The floor seems to want to give, will there be a stage invasion? Not really, but we’re closer to the stage if such thing is possible since we’re pretty much clued to it.

But before we got there we had been through the night’s moving moment, the heartfelt and out-there-hello-psychedelia rendition of Nick and us singing Auto Pilot, us kind of being the spirit of Mark Lanegan to whom Oliveri dedicated the song both used to sang on Queens of the Stone Age.

The leave, lost and broken love songs Gonna Leave You and Another Love Song, also part of the menu, retained their directness. We sang more, Nick sang more too, and loud, and loud we too were, played on fire, fast and furious. As the end approached it all got rather explosive with the cover of G.G.Allin’s Outlaw Scumfuc. Roky Ericson’s Bloody Hammer, dedicated to Ricardo, from Sonic Blast was another shot of intensity. As it was the final Nick & Mick (as in microphone) frantic incantation and incarnation of the banshees leaving everyone breathless.

words: Paulo Carmona (freely translated by Raquel Pinheiro); photos: Paulo Carmona

In a cool April spring night the crows and blackbirds arranged a meeting which was also attended by white doves and hummingbirds.

What? Well, that’s right! Just as many see only grey shadows and melancholy in Matt Elliott’s songs, many others must feel what I felt last Saturday at Mouco. Among of all the dark musical semblance loaded with sarcasm, pain and loss, there are soft, slightly perfumed and bittersweet breezes passing by that, in a way, make everything lighter. Beauty appears between the shadows giving them some colour. Not much, not much, but enough to slightly warm souls. Like a paradox. Aren’t there people who order coffee in a cold cup? There you go.

It all begins with a sketch of a solitary instrument, be it the folk guitar or the saxophone that complains to itself about its bad luck. Then it stays in a minimalist loop waiting for the following instrument to fill in the loose spaces of the music left adrift. And stays there jumping between the folk guitar and the sax and the sax and folk guitar, from where that dark and serious voice appears. But, of course, it doesn’t end there. Matt knows how to adorn the thing. If he does know, my friends. Supported by the diaphragm, he lets out screams as a lament and delirious verses in medium tones. And the guitar cries happily. Sometimes it’s flamenco, sometimes dark folk and classic. From time to time, a guitar distortion prolonged in space and time shows up, all very well executed. In The Day After That and Flowers for Bea it seems that we are wandering around in pencil drawings of an animation by Tim Burton.

Matt Elliott knows how to thank the surrendered crowd. He is affable with his audience and berates himself for talking too much. He also went as far as to apologize to future generations for his generation’s environmental blunders. There are laughs and smiles in the room because it’s funny, then back to the beginning. At the end Matt makes a cordial farewell with a bow and a farewell wave. The man is a sharp and scathing troubadour, pained and incisive, but also friendly and a gentleman. Just as I like it.

It’s past eleven and the night is cool. I am appeased with everything around me. I turn my coat’s collar up, put my hands in my pockets and count the cobblestones.

texto e fotos: Paulo Carmona

Os corvos e os melros marcaram um encontro, ao qual também compareceram pombas brancas e beija-flores na noite fresca deste Abril de Primavera.

O quê? Pois, é mesmo isso! Lá porque muitos só vêm sombras cinzentas e melancolia nas canções de Matt Elliott, muitos outros deverão sentir o que eu senti no passado Sábado no Mouco. No meio de todo aquele semblante musical sombrio carregado de sarcasmo, dor e perda, há brisas suaves, levemente perfumadas e agridoces que por ali passam e que, de um certo modo, tornam tudo mais leve. O belo surge por entre as sombras a dar-lhes um pouco de cor. Não muita, não muita, mas o suficiente para aquecer ao de leve as almas. A jeito de paradoxo, não há quem peça café em chávena fria? Então.

Tudo começa num esboço de um instrumento solitário que se queixa sozinho da sua má sorte, seja ele a guitarra folk ou o saxofone. Depois fica em loop minimalista à espera do instrumente que se segue e que vai preenchendo os espaços soltos da música deixada à deriva. E fica ali a saltitar entre viola e sax e sax e viola, de onde aparece aquela voz soturna e grave. Mas é claro que não se fica por ali. Ele sabe adornar a coisa. Se sabe, meus amigos. Apoiado no diafragma solta gritos em forma de lamento e versos delirantes em tons médios. E a guitarra chora alegremente. Às vezes é flamengo, outras folk escurinho e clássico. De quando em vez, aparece uma distorção de guitarra prolongada no espaço e no tempo. Tudo muito bem executado. Em The Day After That e Flowers for Bea, parece que andamos a deambular em desenhos a lápis de uma qualquer animação de Tim Burton.

Matt Elliott sabe agradecer às hostes rendidas. É afável com o seu público e auto repreende-se por falar de mais. Também chegou a pedir desculpa às gerações vindouras pelas asneiras ambientais da sua geração. Há risos e sorrisos na sala, porque é engraçado, mas depois volta tudo ao início. No final despede-se cordialmente com vénia e acenos de despedida. O homem é um trovador agudo e mordaz, dorido e incisivo, mas também simpático e um gentleman. Como eu gosto.

Passa das onze e a noite é fresca. Estou apaziguado com tudo o que me rodeia. Levanto a gola do casaco, meto as mãos nos bolsos e conto as pedras da calçada.

The Woman Who Fell to Earth

words & photos: João Vilares; editing: Raquel Pinheiro

More than two years since her last performance in Braga, Lucrecia Dalt landed again in gnration for the beginning of the 10th anniversary celebrations of the venue. In her suitcase the Colombian artist brought us ¡Ay!, her last album in which she makes an unlikely mix of classic South American genres with electronic experimentalism.

¡Ay!is the story of an extra-terrestrial entity, Preta, that arrives on our planet and challenges the conceptions of temporality, embodiment and the discovery of love, clearly inspired by Nicolas Roeg’s film The Man Who Fell To Earth (1976).

Accompanied by percussionist Alex Lazaro who Lucrecia describes as “an alien salsero who plays percussion like nobody’s business,”. The Berlin-based artist teleported us into a sci-fi universe where the sensuality of salsa, bolero or other genres acquire different textures mixed with the distortion and apparent dissonance of Dalt’s experimental mastery.

Lucrecia Dalt confessed that this is her favorite concert hall. Even if not totally true, gnration is certainly a place that consistently provides a quality programming of experimental music projects such as the present concert. It was her second time here and by the reaction of the audience no one left the room disappointed.

words: João Vilares; photos: E. Vilares; editing. Raquel Pinheiro

It is uncommon to be “welcomed” by one of the protagonists of the night at the merchandise stall. Owen Pallett was distributing shy smiles among records and t-shirts, hinting that the first half of the show would certainly be Joel Gibb’s responsibility.

With gnration’s Black Box full, the Berlin-based Canadian artist entered the stage, shortly after 10 pm. With just a guitar, a double-mic and a bass drum, Gibb took us on a journey, lasting over an hour, through some of the main themes of The Hidden Cameras’ church gay folk, like Bread For Brat, Ban Marriage, Redemption, Smells Like Happiness, Freedom, A Miracle, Breathe On It, or the electronica of Origin: Orphan. In between, there was still time for an Instagram moment with the crowd chorusing Awoo.

On Joel Gibb’s debut in Portugal, also unsurprisingly, in this more intimate one-man-show format, Owen Pallett joined him for a large part of the performance, but that did not affect the provocative intensity of the lyrics and the celebratory power of the sexual freedom with which The Hidden Cameras marked the Toronto music scene at the beginning of the century.

The night was only halfway through when Gibb lefted and the stage was exclusively dedicated to the music of Owen Palllett. The violinist, composer and producer brought us “a couple of depressing songs from the last album” (Islands, 2020), such as Lewis Gets Fucked Into Space or Fire-Mare.

Good-humored while tuning the guitar (clearly not his instrument of choice: “Guitar is a boring instrument.”) and following the same celebratory tone of the night, Pallet offered us a retrospective of his solo career since Has a Good Home”(2005) through He Poos Clouds (2006) and In Conflict (2014) before ending with a rock version of Lewis Takes Off His Shirt from Heartland (2010).

Owen Pallett and Joel Gibb would return for the encore with We Oh We from the Hidden Cameras album Mississauga Goddam (2004). The words “All I want is to be under his covers and not just be a time from Yesterday” summon up a concert that celebrated the past with a gaze into the future.

words Neno Costa (freely translated by Raquel Pinheiro); photos: Telma Mota

And Also The Trees performance began with the first chords of In A Bed In Yugoslavia jumping in the air an hypnotic invitation to a journey with several stops ialong the vast discography the band’s return to the stage on the Hard Club, in Porto, to the satisfaction of the audience that filled the room.

Captivated the audience with the recurrent opening on this tour, from their last album The Bone Craver (2022), the British quintet crossed over to Beyond Action and Reaction, with Grant Gordon’s bass, slow, with a doom tune to merge with Justin Jones’ guitar trill, lending to an exotic spice upon which Simon Jones’ languid voice evolved. Your Guess (Born Into the Waves, 2016) extended a certain atmospheric singularity from the initial lineup, from the last work, to other well-interpreted revisitations, flowing between temperance and rhythmic explosion.

Maps In Her Wrists And Arms and The Suffering Of The Stream followed with the undisguised neo-romantic black and melancholic aroma conveyed by Simon Jones’s impenetrable performance, in poetic prayer. The Book Burners, from their latest album, refreshed the landscape with a certain Balkan cabaret tone in a folk jazz link between Colin Ozanne’s clarinet and Justin Jones’ guitar. The themes flowed generously in a cohesive and intense interpretation, without blemish. A stage performance that was a certificate of vitality perfected by time.

texto: Neno Costa; fotos: Telma Mota

A atuação iniciou com os primeiros acordes de In A Bed In Yugoslavia saltitando no ar, num convite hipnótico para uma viagem com várias paragens na muito vasta discografia dos And Also The Trees, regressados ao palco do Hard Club, no Porto, para satisfação do público que encheu a sala.

Cativada a audiência com a abertura recorrente nesta digressão, do seu último álbumThe Bone Craver (2022), o quinteto britânico fez a passagem para Beyond Action and Reaction, com o baixo de Grant Gordon, lento, com uma toada doom a fundir-se no trinado da guitarra de Justin Jones, emprestando um tempero exótico sobre o qual evoluiu a voz lânguida de Simon Jones. Your Guess (Born Into the Waves, 2016) prolongou uma certa singularidade atmosférica do alinhamento inicial, do último trabalho, para outras revisitações bem interpretadas, fluindo entre a temperança e a explosão rítmica.

Sucederam-se Maps In Her Wrists And Arms, The Suffering Of The Stream, com o indisfarçável aroma neo-romântico, negro e melancólico transportado pela atuação compenetrada, em oração poética, de Simon Jones. The Book Burners, do seu último trabalho, refrescou a paisagem com um certo tom de cabaret balcânico, num enlace folk jazz entre o clarinete de Colin Ozanne e a guitarra  de Justin Jones. Os temas fluíram, generosos, numa interpretação coesa e intensa, sem mácula, num desempenho em palco que foi um certificado de vitalidade, que o tempo tem apurado.

words: Neno Costa (freely translated by Raquel Pinheiro); photos: Telma Mota

With a sold out box office the opening act was served by Robin Thomson, founder of the Twin Sons project. The glamorous lo-fi sound of the Berlin based Scottish musician revealed a multifaceted composer and performer, with an engaging voice and captivating soundscapes, evolving with well-seasoned guitar chords where the best references echo. Note for Can You Feel It as an introduction to closer listening by this musician who accompanies Michelle Gurevich on guitar.

Michelle Gurevich had an auspicious debut in Portugal in a room filled with an audience for whom this Canadian of Russian origin was not at all unknown. “Why did it took me so long to come here?” asks Michelle after starting with First Six Months Of Lov , a song with a Cohenian flavour, from the album New Decadence (2016). On a pre-recorded background sewn with Robin Thomson’s creative guitar, Michelle Gurevich captivated the audience with her ballads wrapped in the discreet theatricality of a non-diva diva, covering several titles from her six albums produced since 2006, such as: Vacation From Love, Party Girl, Aviva, Drugs Saved My Life, Mrs Robinson or her latest single Goodbye My Ditactor, whose sender seems to be a certain Vladimir.

Michelle Gurevich carries a well-resolved set of references, offering her own sound in lo-fi pop territory, which is not alien to her warm and engaging voice, supported by a solid and honest poetic construction, tempered by a certain tragicomedy of reality.

texto: Neno Costa (freely translated by Raquel Pinheiro); fotos: Telma Mota

Com a bilheteira esgotada, a primeira parte deste concerto foi servida pelo fundador do projeto Twin Sons, Robin Thomson. A sonoridade glamorosa lo-fi do músico escocês radicado em Berlim revelou um compositor e intérprete multifacetado, com uma voz envolvente e paisagens sonoras cativantes, evoluindo com acordes bem temperados de guitarra onde ecoam as melhores referências. Nota para “Can You Feel It” como introdução a audições mais atentas deste músico que acompanha na guitarra Michelle Gurevich.

Michelle Gurevich teve uma estreia auspiciosa em Portugal numa sala cheia de público para quem esta canadiana de origem russa não é, de todo, desconhecida. “Por que demorei tanto tempo a vir cá?”, pergunta depois da abertura com “First Six Months Of Love”, canção de sabor coheniano, do álbum New Decadence (2016). Sobre fundo pré-gravado costurado com a guitarra criativa de Robin Thomson, Michelle Gurevich cativou a assistência com as suas baladas envoltas em discreta teatralidade de diva não diva, percorrendo vários títulos dos seus seis álbuns produzidos desde 2006, tais como: Vacation From Love, Party Girl, Aviva, Drugs Saved My Life, Mrs Robinson ou o seu mais recente single Goodbye My Ditactor, cujo remetente parece ser um certo Vladimir.

Michelle Gurevich transporta um conjunto de referências bem resolvidas, oferecendo uma sonoridade própria em território pop lo-fi, à qual não é alheia a sua voz quente e envolvente, sustentada por uma construção poética sólida e honesta, temperada por uma certa tragicomédia da realidade.