Fado for Thought

Gillian Ivory tours the hidden bars and back streets of Porto on a mission to seek out the best casas de fado

Porto Music O brigado senhor,” I say in my best Portuguese accent, as a wrinkled old gentleman makes way for me on a precarious stairwell that leads to the basement entrance of Mal Cozinhado. One of the best known fado houses in Porto, the venue is the first stop on my search for the best fado the town has to offer.

The gut-wrenching music, famous for its laments of loneliness, heartbreak and unrequited love – and known to have left even the most stoic of northern Europeans weeping into a glass of sweet port wine – has been obsessively on my mind and in my soul for the past fortnight. For it was then, at a music festival back home in Dublin, I had sat transfixed – watching and listening to Portuguese guitar maestro Pedro Caldeira Cabral play a selection of intensely emotional fado instrumentals. Post-show I told him I was planning a visit to Porto, and in a few words he had me convinced – I couldn’t wait to discover a whole new world of music in the city’s streets and taverns.

Already I have a feel for the place, enclosed between walls more than five centuries old, where the washed reds and dampened yellows of the buildings form a backdrop to a culture rich in history, symbolism and a powerful, moving sound.

Escorted by a gentle mist from the Douro river I walk the web of narrow streets and tortuous alleyways lined with worn-but-opulent façades, en route to Mal Cozinhado. Entering a tavern in Porto nearly always involves some kind of wobbly descent, which is how the old man finds me clinging to the rail.

At the foot of the dark wooden staircase, the room opens into a large, stone-walled saloon, where low-hanging lanterns and a smouldering, murky atmosphere is perfect for the task at hand. Guitar, viola, and basic acoustics – the classic ingredients in the fado performance – accompany the restaurant’s regular musicians Rosinda Maria, Ana Cristina and Gloria Maria.

In the casas, fado has its own strict etiquette and a language peculiar to its genre. Clustered around tables, the crowd hushes as the lights go down and the room falls deathly still. Knives and forks are laid to rest. The vocals begin gently but don’t stay that way for long, as the music of brothels, taverns and back streets fills the locale. The performers’ faces contort. Among the men, shoulder shrugging and thick, raised eyebrows take the place of words, while the female fadista clutches her black shawl, eyes closed, hands swaying, her body rigid as a corpse. The stirring melody that follows is at the heart of fado, the essence of the genre. “Saudade” is the concept of melancholia and longing in its purest form, a kind of poignant and wistful nostalgia.

As the fadista reaches a crescendo – like a siren stranded on an imaginary rock – it’s suddenly all over and her hands, still enmeshed in the black crocheted shawl, lower to her sides. The lamps brighten on cue, the assembly resumes its intake of oxygen, and we are left to resume our feast – bacalhau (cod) à moda do Porto and vinho verde served in pristinely polished carafes.

It’s a moving experience. But in pursuit of my next melancholic high, I leave Mal Cozinhado for casa O Fado, where the music continues until well after 3am. In a similarly dim cavity loaded with hazy ambience, more spine-chilling tones are on offer. I listen intently to sessions from the singers Leonor Santos, Fernando Joao and Fernanda Moreira.

Between sets there’s the chance to devour a leite creme (dessert made from milk, eggs and covered in roasted sugar), and to chat to staff and clientele about fado.

Mateus, from the nearby suburb of Matoshinos, tells me that critics of the genre claim there’s too much emphasis on suffering. “But fado is about reality,” he insists, “not just suffering. Life, love, birth and death, good times and bad – these are all the things that go into living, and all the things that come into fado music.”

Nearly everyone I speak to has their own personal picture of fado – as a song of the soul, as popular poetry, and as a vehicle of expression that moves with political and social changes in the country. Locals are proud of the fact that both the Lisbon and Coimbra styles of fado are commonly played in Porto.

At 2.30am, my head swimming with music and theories, I am ready to turn in. Unsure if my drowsiness is a result of sensation overload brought on by extreme emotion, or the effects of the full-bodied Douro red I am drinking, I slink back to the hotel and sink into a deep slumber populated by mysterious silhouettes in dimly lit caverns.

The following day the mist has disappeared from the river and the clouds have dispersed. Traipsing the now sunny streets I am conscious that, despite the auditory pleasures and visual treats of the previous evening, with only one night left I still haven’t found what I’m really after – to hear fado in its younger or more modern state.

As the day goes by and twilight hints upon the horizon I make my way to Café Guarany, not among the more traditional of casas, but where the latest of the new generation of performers is forging her style and reputation. Joana Costa takes sheer melancholia and unbearable longing to a whole new dimension. Sparkling earrings dangling, hair pulled tightly back, eyebrows pencilled and eyes dramatic, the 29-year-old makes quite an entrance, as she grasps full swathes of black skirt between red-polished fingernails. Her performance is captivating, capable of moving the normally immovable to great sentimental heights.

At Café Guarany, reminiscent of the Parisian café littéraire – where writers and artists regularly gathered to discuss their work – the owners are eager to showcase new talent. During a break in the music, I ask Joana what it’s like to sing words of such heartfelt suffering to a crowd of tourists, me among them.

“I play the more traditional fados for visitors, so they can hear the real thing,” she says. “But I don’t like to play in the casas more than a couple of times a week (she’s a psychologist in her other life). Fado must come from the soul, so it’s exhausting to do it any more than that.”

It seems that neither age nor experience are an issue in fado, for the love of the music eclipses all the smaller details. Artists old and young work together, sharing a genuine passion for what they do. Some believe you are either born a fadista or not. For performers, it seems, fado is a vocation rather than an occupation, and an expression of a collective history.

After seeing Joana sing I feel that maybe I’ve got closer to fado in its natural state. But as she speaks I realise that I am almost as far from it as when I began. “Next time you come I’ll take you to fado vadio,” she promises. Fado vadio (or street fado) is the amateur version of the genre, a phenomenon of gritty impromptu sessions in all kinds of casual venues around town.

“It’s like karaoke with real musicians,” she says, laughing. “If tempers run high it can even end in a punchup.” Gatherings are informal, where only the musicians are paid professionals, and among vocalists anyone can volunteer to sing. Locals in the know can tell you where to find a congregation on any night of the week. A tourist is a rare breed on this trail – it’s only the most persevering of foreigners that will sniff out a session. Without doubt fado vadio has to be closer to the original music that once reverberated in the streets and poured from the taverns of 19th-century Porto.

Leaving Café Guarany in the small hours of the morning it’s clear that despite the magic I’ve witnessed I’ve only scratched the surface of the fado scene here. The streets are deserted as I weave my way home by the dark waters of the Douro river, already planning a second trip back to this city of soul, and a run-in with some fullon fado vadio sessions.

A brief history of fado
The origins of fado are still widely disputed. Some say its roots are in the rhythms of African slaves brought to Portugal, while others claim it has its foundations in Moorish culture. Yet most agree that it originated in the country’s largest ports from a mixture of colonial and local influences, and dates back more than three centuries.

There are over 500 songs in fado, with the classical melodies divided into three kinds: fado mouraría, menor and corrido. A new generation of artists has taken the music way beyond Iberia to the heights of New York’s Carnegie Hall.

There are two distinct styles of fado. The Lisbon style is what is heard in the casas. There is also a Coimbra style, which emerged from the university city of Coimbra at the end of the 19th century, and again in Porto in the 20th century. Played by male students, it is more refined than the Lisbon style.

In fado, the 12-stringed Portuguese guitar is typically used, along with the viola and one or more vocalists.

Where to go for fado

> RESTAURANTE O MAL COZINHADO
11 Rua do Outeirinho
Tel: +351 222 081 319,
www.malcozinhado.home.sapo.pt

> RESTAURANTE TIPICO O FADO
16 Largo de Sao
Joao Novo
Tel: +351 222 026 937,
www.ofado.com

> CAFÉ-RESTAURANTE GUARANY
89/85 Avenida
dos Aliados
Tel: +351 223 321 272,
www.cafeguarany.com

Porto artists

> JOANA COSTA
Joana Costa has sung professionally throughout Portugal and abroad. She marries poetry with fado and is presently working with one of Portugal’s best modern writers, António Lobo Antunes.

> ROSINDA MARIA
Rosinda is considered to be among the most popular interpreters of fado nationally, and has appeared alongside the likes of Carlos Do Carmo and Dulce Pontes.

> ANA CRISTINA
Ana began singing at 14, coming to the attention of the public in 1995 at the Fado Festival at the Coliseu do Porto, where she was awarded one of its most coveted prizes.