“My soul sings/See Rio de Janeiro/I’m dying of nostalgia . . . “. When I first started this week’s Chronicle, my intention was to write an homage to Tom Jobim. Not only for any of the obvious reasons, but also because during some time I have started the habit of listening to the song “Samba do aviao” repeatedly in that space of time that starts with the entrance of all the passengers in the airplane, and ends in the moment when the flight attendant informs the passengers that all electronic devices are to be switched off. Almost like a prayer, not religious, nor superstitious, I play it when the journey represents a coming home. Journeys to places, people and stories that await us, curious to know if we find them any less interesting now, in a world compressed into a tiny JPEG file.
Fear not; the infinite possibilities of the digital age actually curb my touristic voyeurism. I would rather prefer to sit on a terrace on Nevsky Avenue and for a some hours feel the pulse of the passers-by that make St. Petersburg one of the most fascinating places I have ever visited. I know that the images will dilute in my memory; the palaces, the architecture, the Neva River, they will all take on the contours or details of other buildings, other rivers, other cities. It happened to me once in Berlin, whilst walking down a street I imagined seeing a church when turning a corner, and then being startled by a small hotel whose facade reminded me of the Parisian buildings from the 18th century. It then occurred to me that the church I had expected to see was in fact in Bilbao.
I have a great affection for the pecularities of these cities – like the objects a couple next to me was clutching to so preciously. Had they found their ‘omiyage’ – as the Japanese call them – during long walks through the city or was everything left to the last minute rush in a duty-free shop at the airport? Worth the effort; but only if the object is linked to something or someone worth remembering or is given to someone you love.
My effort in trying to understand this geometry of absence and return which is present in Jobims lines, is always changing throughout my journey. Where I previously had Christ the Savior over Guanabara Bay, I now have the open arms of Christ the King over the Tejo River. I recognize a few of the passengers, it feels like I’ve seen them before in whichever hill of Lisbon. As they pass by me I feel like asking whether they too have their own rituals, their almost-prayers before the flight, or if they prefer to join the collective applause after the landing. I don’t have any ritual for landing; perhaps only the desire that gravity will be merciful to us if something goes wrong “Eh, Xango, see if you can help me get there”. I let the sound carry me and give in to it as if it were the first time. “Tighten the belt, we’re about to arrive/Water glimmering, look at the landing strip/Here we go/Landing…” in Lisbon.

Once upon a time there was a young man who lived in Baixa da Banheira(1), territorialized by the memories inherited from his parents, missing an Africa he never knew. He had a common name and a surname that sounded like the noise the Zambezi river makes when it hits on the concrete of the Cahora Bassa dam. Apart from his dark skin and frizzy hair, there was nothing extraordinary that would set him apart from his group of friends. He was a regular student, played sports – they even said he was a surfer, although no one remembers ever seeing him with a board – his musical taste was eclectic, but still he felt closer to Grunge from Seattle than to the Marrabenta(2) heard at his house on the weekends. This was the first half of the ’90s, on a suburb like any other, inhabited by common workers trying to adapt to the demands of the new European Union. Progress and development were the words to live by. Despite the skeptics signaling an increase in social inequality, despite the visionaries alerting to the fact that agriculture and fishing would be damaged, despite everybody whispering that the EU funds weren’t being put to good use, the balance was still believed to the positive. There was something that could be called prosperity in the air, consumption was finally flourishing and productivity was getting closer to European standards. Culture was given a new life with the creation of new institutes for the arts. The media were also going through exciting times – new newspapers on the stands and two private channels were on the air.
Portugal, which had only known the reality of emigration until then, now harbored increasing numbers of immigrants from the “ex-colonies”, Eastern Europe and the Balkans. All of them were eager for the new “El Dorado”. Once they arrived, most were shipped to the outskirts of the city, the ghettos of broken dreams, where the fight for survival forced them to swallow their pride to chew the bread. The ones who had nothing blamed the ones who barely had anything. The misery that generated violence was germinating.
It was on this routine that the young man – now part of the Rasca(3) Generation – woke up one morning to a world no longer colored with the multicultural imagery created by Olivero Toscani for the Bennetton ads, now under a McDonald’s-colored-345-escudos(4)/hour-rainbow, an immigration-policy-color, extradition-color, a SEF(5)-bureaucracy-of-exclusion-color, a drugs-sanction- black-white-yellow-beware-of-the-gypsies-race-color. Colors would never go back to being simple retina impressions: they would impose themselves as real institutions demanding careful reflection and energetic action. On that morning he faced this picture, let out a desperate cry that transformed into a warrior chant, marched out into the streets, embraced other cultures coming up in the same conditions, transformed them and made them present. He rose to the stage, showed his face and name – General D – to these Portuguese without a flag, who would swap the Europe being offered to them for this drifting Africa, like such an exchange could be made…

1 – a suburb of Lisbon, on the south side of the river Tejo
2 – a dance music genre from Mozambique
3 – Portuguese term meaning lousy, cheap
4 – the Portuguese currency before the Euro
5 – Portuguese Immigration Bureau

Hard Ass Sessions is the name of Enchufada’s bimonthly residency at Lux in Lisbon, which is steadily becoming a mandatory rendezvous for all aficionados of that genre which the blogosphere has unanimously dubbed BASS MUSIC. To this day I still have mixed feelings about this label, but lacking a better word it serves its purpose. We needed a name. What doesn’t? And Bass Music isn’t all that inappropriate, because the presence of fat bass is an undeniable fact and serves as a link between all those musical strains that blossomed under this definition.

I still remember when people called it Ghetto Dance Music or World Ghetto Music. The movement was just beginning and everything happened spontaneously through the internet. No one was claiming to have invented anything and everyone promoted a healthy musical promiscuity, pointing towards new and valid paths in dance music culture, inviting us all to abandon the well-known routes and to explore the backroads that lead us to the suburbs of Caracas, Luanda or Johannesburg.  We were witnessing something that could be called electronic world music, if the term wasn’t so cheesy. I understand why people tried to label this music (the same music now being played by this Funktion One soundsystem in the Hard Ass Sessions) “world-something”, because everything points us in that direction. Most people who are active in this genre/movement live in or are inspired by cultural movements from faraway lands, so it would be easy to make the mistake of believing we were facing the distant cousin of world music, a music genre which wasn’t discovered by a french sound engineer or pop star while visiting a country whose name we cannot pronounce, and for that reason would be lost to the world if it wasn’t for the intervention of the candomblé gods or the help of Diplo, wouldn’t now return decades later, totally electrified. It’s obvious that none of this makes sense, because the Bass Music movement is an urban phenomenon. It’s something that was born, developed and consumed in cities (although the concept of city can be debated, because we’re talking about some of the cities in the so-called developing world, where the boundaries between the slums and the urbanized areas, or between the sand and concrete, is almost nonexistent). It’s that urban characteristic that sets it apart from all the other musical manifestations of a traditional nature – “world music”.

To reduce all these musical manifestations to “world-something” would not only be selling it short, but it would also be disrespectful to this culture which is simply the unavoidable consequence of this global existence, as well as the evolution of computers and its influence on a new generation of musicians, be them from London, New York, Lisbon, Rio or Luanda. This music still, it doesn’t’ have the same impact as traditional world music and it’s frowned upon by some of the people who think and talk about music, because it doesn’t have the seal of authenticity of some remote place on the edge of the world where musicians without electricity, under a palm tree and with a waterfall as background noise, release records on Putumayo. Even if the music industry as we know it is going down the drain, I believe the music created inside those bedrooms around the world, using rudimentary pcs or macbook pros, distributed through the internet and celebrated by the same urban generation in clubs like Fabric in London or Lux in Lisbon, is the most stimulating thing we can find nowadays in the dance music universe. Call it Bass Music or anything else, we can’t forget that it’s dance music we’re talking about. With that in mind, I make the confetti explode and rain on top of the crowd that came to Lux for another Hard Ass Session.

From what we’ve heard at the rehearsals (somewhere around Lisbon) we dare to say that they studied very well their past lectures, but since they always liked to avoid the easiest paths, we can say that the new season starting in May at “Queima das Fitas do Porto” will be loaded with musical surprises.

These last six months revealed pretty productive for each of their members: Riot created Faster Music, a Drum’n Bass, Dubstep and Grime label. J–WOW stepped into a some hyperactive work doing remixes and also brought us two singles, “Klang” – through Deadly People and “O Dedo” through Mad Decent. Conductor went on an trip to Luanda and came back with his second record from his Hip-Hop project “Conjunto Ngonguenga” and as for Kalaf, he kept dedicated to his weekly chronicles at “O Publico” newspaper.
And Buraka themselves still managed to present us with their brilliant BBC Essential Mix last April gathering five star reviews from the international press and opinion-makers.

We told ya, didn’t we???

The brands SUPRA Footwear and KR3W Denim and the Portuguese collective HAVE SCENARIO got together in Lisbon to introduce the collections Filthy Kr3w Forever and the Supra NS line to the trendsetters, design-lovers, sneakerheads and local fashionistas. The event took place at “Portas do Sol”, a brand new spot with an incredible view to the old city and the Tagus River.

The event was part of the official Lisbon Fashion Week after parties. The crowd was mainly fashion aficionados but the street culture elements were present due to the fact that both Supra and Kr3w have strong skater roots. J-Wow, Dinis, and Rai (Incognito) did the honours on a night that featured the Tokyo’s own Tigarah. The Japanese mc/dj is working on her new album in France and chose this occasion to visit Lisbon for the first time to spin some records.

Have Scenario is a collective of fashion-lovers driven by style who contributed their fashion knowledge to the Angolan brand MENTAL by Shunnoz e Tekasala who presented their collection at the final day of Moda Lisboa.

LINKS
http://www.havescenario.com/
http://suprafootwear.com/blog/
http://kr3wdenim.com/blog/
http://www.myspace.com/tigarah
http://www.modalisboa.pt

more pictures here http://bit.ly/9rcsYQ

Check here more picts!!

J-Wow and Steve Aoki

Kalaf, Phra “Aoki” and J-Wow

Diplo, Kalaf and… errr… J-Wow

J-Wow, Blaya and Switch

Hummmmm…

The gang at a Roof Top LA (the next day!)

Ana Gilbert

This is you chance to grab limited and exclusive 12″ editions of full lenght “Black Diamond” album and the “Sound of Kuduro” Single with remixes from Drop the Lime and Dj Mehdi…. these copies are signed if purchased at Enchufada’s store. Available on the 12th of August!!!

Read here

Lisbon’s Buraka Som Sistema, the kuduro group behind last year’s excellent Black Diamond, have a new mixtape out that gives a sample of their infamous hometown live gigs, plus some of the mash-ups and mixes they’ve become known for. Check out the Jaime Foxx-sampling, GNR-remixing, Lykke Li-featuring mix Blood Diamond, in exchange for only your email address.