The soulful, elegant fado is a relative latecomer to the world-music scene. For many years, few artists of note cared to sing it, perhaps because of its unfortunate association with Portugal’s fascist political leaders, who were ousted only in 1974. Whatever the reasons, young singers like Cristina Branco, Misia, and Mariza are leaving that history behind and breathing new life into fado. All three hew close to the style’s basic traditions. They perform in a light black shawl, backed mostly by three instruments — classical Spanish guitar, 12-string Portuguese guitar, and double bass — and giving voice to the style’s trademark emotions: longing, loss, melancholy. And they honor the legacy of fado’s greatest 20th-century singer, Amália Rodrigues.
Branco may be the best known of the three in the wake of the international reception accorded her second album, 2000’s Post Scriptum (L’impreinte digitale). The follow-up, Corpo iluminado (Decca), offers 16 short, carefully shaped pieces, many written with her Portuguese guitarist husband. Custódio Castelo gives an edge to Branco not only with his crisp, lyrical playing but with his original composition style. She is less caught up in the thrall of Rodrigues than Misia or Mariza, perhaps because she has such confidence in her husband’s composing chops. The gorgeous guitar flourishes on "Mil janelas" ("A Thousand Windows") are a treat; Castelo even offers an instrumental track, "Portas" ("Doors").
But fado is all about singing. Branco’s voice is the most dulcet of the three, soaring, sweet, and always perfectly controlled. Her delivery elevates the music’s sometimes square oom-pah rhythms and gives beguiling mystery to the sentimental stories lovers separated by fate, or uncertain sea voyages.
All three of these singers steered clear of fado in childhood, preferring some blend of jazz, pop, and R&B before arriving at a fado epiphany. Misia even recorded one non-fado album, her second, but her new Ritual (Erato) marks a full return. Ritual was recorded live, with classic valve microphones, and the instruments take more of a back seat here than in Branco’s new work, or Mariza’s. From her opener, "Não guardo saudade à vida (I Don’t Long for Life)," Misia displays a heavier, deeper, more classical voice than the other two singers enjoy. Her fascination with Amália Rodrigues is intense, and she offers a smoldering, understated new version of Rodrigues’s "Lágrima" ("Tear"). Misia says this was the song that made her a fado singer; the album’s sleeve notes describe it as her "fetish fado." Another standout track here, "Xaile de silencio" ("Shawl of Silence"), commemorates Rodrigues, who died in 1999.
The gold star in this fado triumvirate goes to the debut release from Mariza, Fado em mim ("Fado in Me"; Times Square/World Connection). Born in Mozambique and raised in Lisbon’s fado-rich Mouaria neighborhood, Mariza also covers a number of Rodrigues’s songs. But she departs from tradition too, reinventing songs from other genres. She uses piano on a few numbers; on "Barco negro" ("The Dark Boat"), only hand percussion accompanies her mournful, sighing vocal. She mixes in contemporary compositions, including two of her own, and her selections are consistently excellent. But her greatest asset is a voice that explodes with warmth and clarity and bloom.
For Mariza, fado is all about feel and intuition. She has spoken eloquently about the history — the African strands in the music, the way the sound coalesced in the Lisbon ghettos in the 19th century, and the way Rodrigues made it glamorous in the 20th century. But more important, the fado is Portugal’s blues, an intuitive window on the nation’s scarred emotional life. Mariza makes that suffering universal, just as Cesaria Évora has done for morna, fado’s Cape Verdean cousin.
Branco, Misia, and Mariza are part of a promising new fado movement. The presentation of all that history, poetry, and passion by these vivacious and talented young singers will be hard for world-music audiences to resist. Next time you feel the urge for something that plunges you into the depths of despair in order that you might emerge cleansed and blessed by the beauty of art, visit the fast-growing fado section at the record store. European music doesn’t get any bluer than this.
