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Fado-Masochist

I confess to being a fado-masochist. Fado, the traditional song of profound, passionate, melancholy expression, born in Lisbon's taverns in the old Mouraria district, has found a new voice to keep its traditions alive: Mariza (pictured above).

In the week where we recollect the 250th anniversary of the terrible devastation (100,000 dead, and a giant tsunami) of the Lisbon Earthquake of November, 1755, which helped inspire Kant's ideas of the sublime, the T.S. Review is glad to report that Lisbon has recovered, if it can produce such vibrancy.

Mariza, who performed last evening at the Barbican in London, is a visually striking, engaging, and fiery entertainer, who literally had her audience begging for more.

Her songs, often reinterpreting the fado form for the 21st century, and using the poems of Pessoa, remind poetry how its best course is to utter out from the self, fully integrating with life, without let or hindrance, and yet keeping the shape tradition allows.

With some of the strength and humour and presence of a Belafonte or Piaf, Mariza is that welcome and always unexpected stage presence, where presence itself is redefined in the act of its appearance. Sublime, indeed.

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