Photos by Maria Santos and Rui Baião
Impermanence
Few words. In fact, they are not need.
At the Anfiteatro Paz & Amizade we feel a fresh breeze while Susana Santos Silva enters the scene and speaks a few words to us. In fact, they are not need. “It's been a long time since we played to an audience”.
I look around and there are many faces covered with masks. Many. That is the most important. We deconfine carefully. With distance and mask on. And the culture takes place in that amphitheater. With so much time away from these wanderings, I feel like I have unlearned being focused on a live concert, without headphones, without a screen, without thinking about the laundry or take care of dinner.
It's been a long time since I've seen a concert. It has been a long time since I wrote in the heat of the moment.
The quintet's last album, edited by Porta-Jazz, is halfway to the high expectations to this concert.
Trumpet, saxophone, drums, electric bass, and keybord.
Susana. Her evolution is enormous. Respect.
When I find myself, we are already applauding and ready to enter the second tune. I walk into a seedy, bohemian bar. A late spring afternoon with a cold breeze. The sound guides me. One person on each side. I exchange glances with some of those around me. An unisonous sound that enters my ears. The electric bass that, so well, destabilizes the moment. Drums that remains silent. The helicopter that, for a moment, decides to pass and become the sixth element and merges with the keyboards.
So, we enter the third tune.
I find myself in the middle of a film like Black Cat, White Cat, by Kusturica, or Brutti, sporchi e cattivi, by Ettore Scola. At this point in the concert Torbjörn Zetterberg becomes the center of the film.
I continue this journey and I do not realize how much time has passed. Now starts with a heavier mesh, a gloomy environment. I get lost in time again. I continue to travel.
Final applause. When gigs are good, you lose track of time. For those who didn't go, there's a tip: Impermanence's records will also make you travel.
Photos by Maria Santos and Rui Baião
Rafael Toral Space Quartet
Night fell and I entered the auditorium. Some time ago, more precisely in 2019, I wrote a review to one of Rafael Toral's records. I admire and respect him and his work.
Auditorium, mask, and smoke machine: all a matter of habit (I'll work on it so I can get used to it).
I think it's the first time I see Nuno Torres live (I should be ashamed to assume this), Nuno Morão delights me on drums and who ends up surprising me throughout the concert is Hugo Antunes (double bass). Perhaps because I feel that everyone is contained except him. Maybe because I didn't expect this performance from Hugo. I have preconceived ideas like anyone else (who would have guessed).
Rafael Toral's presence is unmistakable. His set, the way he moves on stage, his expressions. I missed a moment of madness, of total release, of explosion. Why? I do not know. I just hope that moment happens. The concert grows, its dynamics intensifies, but it does not explode. And there's nothing wrong with it. I consider that probably it is a necessity of mine. After so long confined I need to explode.
Rafael can take us to other universes and Nuno Torres breaks new paths where, together, they complement each other.
It was over quickly, like everything that is good.