Lina Rodrigues, Raül Refree

Sometime during the early nineties I wangled a gig in Lisboa for a few weeks, but ended-up finding myself at a loose-end over the weekends. Sure there was a fair bit of sight-seeing (it is an absolutely beautiful and historic city, home to some of the best seafood I've ever eaten, not to mention a seriously addictive sour cherry liqueur, 'Ginja' and of course Pastel de nata).

Thing was I didn't want to spend my evenings in the hotel's bar playing 'Billy sem companheiros' (as they probably don't say). Fortunately, the Concierge came to my rescue and suggested that if I wanted to experience an evening of traditional Portuguese music, he could offer a suggestion…

I've no idea where the taxi took me, some small nondescript backstreet bar - with that delightful hubbub you get from an expectant crowd. As the already subdued house lighting dimmed, a hush descended as two guitarists appeared onto a small raised stage, one carrying a traditional classical guitar, the second with what l was to discover is known as a Portuguese guitar. They were followed by a slightly built female… As the guitarists stated to play, she composed herself and… to this day I have no idea where her voice came from. It was haunting, sombre, immensely powerful. The songs she sang sounded mournful and heart-wrenching… This was my introduction to Fado and I was hooked…

There is a word in Portuguese, "saudade", which relates to a feeling of melancholic longing or nostalgia and which, according to Nick Cave in his lecture "The Secret Life Of The Love Song"; "the desire to be transported from darkness into light, to be touched by the hand of that which is not of this world". As the writer, composer and performer of some of the most crushing, destructive - yet for all that - beautifully sad and poignant love songs I've heard, who am I to argue? This sense of saudade is the essence of Fado - sad songs which deal with hardship and loss…

Over the years, I've repeatedly dipped a metaphorical toe back into Fado, but listening to recordings, wasn't the same. I missed the intimacy and connection - the "buzz" - that I got from being part of that communal experience… I appreciated the artistry, the technique, but I couldn't feel the saudade…

Until I stumbled upon this album…

"Lina_Raül Refree" is the third album from Fadista Lina Rodrigues and which similar to her previous releases, is heavily influenced by the songs of the 'Rainha do Fado', Amália Rodrigues - an artist so revered in her native Portugal that her death in 1999 led to the Portuguese government declaring three days of national mourning. For this album she asked the Spanish producer Raül Refree - probably best known for his work with ex-Sonic Youth guitarist Lee Ranaldo, and Spanish singer-songwriter-composer Rosalía and her thoroughly modern re-interpretation of flamenco song, "Los ángeles" - to oversee the production of an album that would reimagine Fado in a similarly modern - yet reverent - style to that achieved by Rosalía with flamenco.

The most striking difference between this album and others I'd listened to is that Raül has replaced traditional guitars with keyboards - pianos, analogue synths and clavinet - and studio effects. The one exception is the only song not associated with Amália Rodrigues, "Voz Amália De Nós" and which closes the album, where he accompanies Lina on acoustic guitar… The result is I find myself not being 'distracted' by brightly plucked guitars, instead the keyboards and effects create an amorphous, shifting soundscape upon which Lina's voice can both pierce, fade and float about a nebulous aural cloud.

The approach is immediately evident on the album's opening track, "Medo." Analogue synths murmur as if idled, becalmed on a still, fog-shrouded sea. Lina's clarion, resonant vocals puncture this electronic stillness, filling the silence with sadness and mourning. It is deliberately minimalist, ensuring that Lina's voice remains the central focus, while allowing for subtle shades and tones to an otherwise monochromatic audible palette… This is Fado with a deliciously disconcerting modern twist.

It's a technique that was also showcased by the album's first single, "Cuidei Que Tinha Morrido", which features keyboards layering a repetitive, dreamlike pattern over which Lina's voice similarly regales with its trance-like quality. There's a hint of multi-tracking and echo as her voice softens as ghostly synths swirl and permeate the space… her voice rises and becomes more impassioned before fading back into the electronic mist, as sombre piano fills the void… There's another example of the use of these repetitive patterns and loops on "A Mulher que já foi tua", where the rising and falling arpeggio fills the silence and with the bright peaks synchronised to the gaps in between Lina's soulful vocals.

With effectively a blank canvas upon which to sketch his ideas, Raül makes clever use of electronic and studio sound effects to craft aural textures and narratives; the throbbing hum of "Destino"creates an impression of timelessness, slowly drowned by unworldly sounds that signals the impending fate of the song's title. On "Maldição"he adds droning organ and faint synths to heighten the senses while adding texture to compliment Lina's vocals. On other occasions it's Lina's vocals that benefit from the post-production trickery. The dreamy "Barco Negro" for instance is transformed from an ostensibly simple - and comparatively uplifting - is transformed by the multi-tracking tracking of the vocals to create the angelic choir during the song's fleeting refrain, while with "Os meus olhos são dois círios" he adds echo and delay to her voice, which alongside strident piano chords and synth effects add a distinctly psychedelic quality.

And it's because I'm not steeped in the history and tradition of Fado, there are songs where the keyboards seem as if they were always intended to accompany the cantora. None more so than the arresting "Foi Deus", a song which as imagined here, strays seamlessly into Chanson territory - the back streets of Lisbon replaced by Montmartre… Equally, with the album's penultimate track, the reverent "Ave Maria Fadista" where the sympathetic piano accompaniment and with the Lina's voice at its most ephemeral, gives this song a hymn-like quality. The added echo and distortion during the uplifting middle eight adds a sense of gravitas, the impression we're listening to an old recording or radio broadcast.

Ultimately though this album never loses focus on the magnificence of Lina's voice and especially with the heat-wrenching and plaintive yearning she displays on both "Gaivota" and the melodramatic "Quando eu era Pequenina". Sombre piano - interspersed with gentle organ - accompanies the former, arguably my favourite track on the album and one which I am totally transfixed by the dynamic qualities of her vocal interpretation. The latter features strident piano chords crashing in tandem with vocal peaks, then gently fading and softening as if in synchronisation with her voice. Eerie synths evoke a sense of windswept desolation - allowing the imagination to run wild, yet never diverting the focus from the voice.

As I'd noted, "Voz Amália De Nós", is the only song not associated with the career of Amália Rodrigues (although it was written in homage to her), it is also the only one accompanied by the more traditional acoustic guitar. Written by the late singer-songwriter António Variações, it is quite appropriate that a song which is a celebration of Amália Rodrigues' standing in the nation's psyche - written by an artist who combined genres such as pop, rock, blues, jazz and new wave with the Portuguese heritage of Fado - should close this album.

It's perhaps it is because I'm not an aficionado of the genre that I find this album so atmospheric. Then again, I find there's something totally captivating as to how female vocals can majestically float, soar, be engulfed or weave through the swirling vortex of synths, beat and loops.

Another factor may be that my level of comprehension of Portuguese is regrettably minimal (it's a polite way of saying non-existent) and while I could search on-line for the songs' lyrics and use translation tool, I preferred to appreciate the artistry without delving into context and meaning.

"Lina_Raül Refree" is an album that I'd added to my 'Wishlist' for several months, 'umming and ahing' for several weeks before finally deciding to take the plunge. Every time I listen, I'm glad I plucked up the courage to do. I finally found my saudade…