Holuzam News

Audio taken from a live performance by Anar Band (Jorge Lima Barreto and Rui Reininho) with E.M. de Melo e Castro in November of 1978 at Cooperativa Árvore, Porto. The performance was filmed. A segment was included in »Obrigatório Não Ver«, a weekly programme presented by Ana Hatherly on Public Television’s Second Channel. It was not possible to determine the exact date of the event, and no documentation seems to be available in the relevant archives.

»Encontro que Tenho« and »Profissões«: these titles are specific to this release. Having failed to locate the respective poems after a thorough search in E.M. de Melo e Castro’s body of work, it was deduced both texts were created for the occasion.

Even without a full contextualisation, the sound transmits the spirit of cultural agitation proper to these sessions. When this show happened, Anar Band were Jorge Lima Barreto (ARP Odyssey synthesizer) and Rui Reininho (Ibanez double-neck guitar), with the addition of E.M. de Melo e Castro, whom we shall call a poet but whose creative intervention was far reaching. Besides poetry, also continued his efforts in linking up diverse artistic areas (painting, drawing, collage, performance, video) and his official training in textile engineering. He was one of the artists featured in Henri Chopin's »OU Revue« in 1966, establishing his natural connection to the European concrete/visual/sound-poetry avant-garde. Melo e Castro was also proficient in the agitation of minds and political awareness. A good example in »Profissões«, where initially separate professionals (an intellectual, a fisherman, a soldier, a factory worker) are gradually mixed in a show of interdependency. Symbolically, through his words one listens to a transformation of society, although the same conclusion arises twice: surplus always finds its way to the hands of the capitalists.

That was the state of affairs many were looking to change, an economic and social malaise that the 1974 Revolution in Portugal fully uncovered, when dissident voices could finally be heard in public. Each in his own way, all three participants in this recording were non-believers in the structure of society such as it was presented. Through his books and press writings, mainly concerned with Jazz, Jorge Lima Barreto pushed his way into Portuguese artistic and critical circles since the late 1960s. Consciously and unwittingly, he collected enemies and pointed them by name, people he labelled as reactionary, people who delayed progress, social and cultural mixes, the avant-garde; they even delayed the chaos from which new forms and attitudes arise.

Rui Reininho, a non-conformist by heart, experienced incomprehension from an early age. His anarchic ways, a tendency to baffle others, were revealed through the choice of clothes and accessories, public behaviour, and »real life« performances. Just as Lima Barreto, and even together with him, he enjoyed provoking the extremes: Maoists on one side, right-wing conservatives on the other. He translated leftist books and joined Anar Band precisely on the day a duck or swan or goose (one of them) was thrown on stage in Porto, 1976.

This record documents a concrete action, a snapshot of the agitation, something we have no problem calling punk activism, something which allowed two people with little to no musical training to play and record music. By then, Anar Band had managed to release their only LP in 1977. It’s this performance, however, that reveals the naked rawness of the music: improvisation, mutual listening, and choice of intervention between both musicians and Melo e Castro, clearly sensing when the synth has to change tone, the voice has to make pauses, the guitar punctuates both and finds the space to… scream. The sound was captured by the film crew, adding to the rawness: the instruments are palpable, the voice often too close to the mic. Everything was preserved. First time on disc.

funcionário delights in the freedom of creating freeform music for the first time in his career. On “horizonte”, he loosens the reins, his sound follows a wavy, organic structure rather than a rigid, formal one. If it feels freer and more colourful, that’s because it truly is.

Eight years ago, when we first encountered his work, he was composing soundtracks for imaginary video games and crafting sonic landscapes that felt like destinations for sci-fi anime characters. With “Cavalcante” (2022), he broke away from that past. It marked a turning point, he was ready to explore a “fourth world” in both sound and concept. The feedback was overwhelming.

Three years later, “horizonte” marks another evolution. He sends us music regularly, but this album stood out immediately. It felt right: more synth-driven, more open to improvisation. As he put it: “It’s like using oil pastels for the first time and discovering new possibilities. In a way, I’ve found new ways of creating using the same colours.”

Listening to horizonte is like waking up from a dream. Again and again. The opening track, “nascer”, suggests a new dawn, but it’s in “pássaros” that the vision fully takes flight: less processed, more raw, yet still detailed and expansive.

Finding new ways with the same colours has been his quiet mission all along. What’s new here aren't the tools, but the feeling. The movement. The invitation to travel with him. You can hear - and feel - his sense of wonder. Every sound radiates joy. Every moment sparks a new thought. The music moves quickly, but breathes slowly.

Tracks like “renascer” and “o caminho do regresso” echo the spirit of late-70s/early-80s Vangelis, in deep reverence. And just as you approach the end, “fantasma” arrives - a stunning closer, reminiscent of Eno’s “An Ending”. By then, it’s clear: the “fourth world” is behind him. funcionário has moved on. To where? We’re about to discover.

Two records came out in 1988 that forever changed the perception of "experimental" or "serious" music produced in Portugal. These were "Plux Quba" by Nuno Canavarro and "Música de Baixa Fidelidade" by Tózé (António) Ferreira. Both were released by the same label - Ama Romanta -, an influential independent imprint closely linked to avantgarde pop band Pop Dell'Arte. Because those records appeared in what could be perceived as an "alternative pop" framework, they rescued this difficult music from Academia. It helps that Canavarro played in a successful new wave pop band (Street Kids) during the period 1980-83. By association, being a friend since 1976, António was in close contact with many of the musicians and bands that were part of the equally celebrated and detested Portuguese Rock Boom (roughly 79-82).

He was not a musician then but through his friendship with Canavarro, who had the means to acquire electronic equipment, António became involved with that equipment and shared Canavarro's passion for experimentation and curiosity for knowledge. They tried to get hold of as many technical magazines as possible and learn while testing ideas. In 1983, Street Kids were about to break up, young lives drafted into the Army and maybe, in Canavarro's case, a whole new passion for challenging music similar to his bandmate Nuno Rebelo, by then in the process of discovering a wide range of "other" music mainly through Jorge Lima Barreto. Barreto, who had started Telectu with Vítor Rua, possessed a huge book and record collection and, like Rua before them, Canavarro, Rebelo and Ferreira became fascinated by the pool of knowledge they now had access to by frequenting Barreto's house in Lisbon. He was roughly a decade older, had published several books and other writings throughout the 1970s, cultivated an anarchic stance and a penchant for cultural indoctrination. Rebelo was the first to be introduced via his contact with Rua (who had invited him to play in his other band GNR).

Overwhelmed, he felt the need to share his enthusiasm with friends and eventually took a few to the house in true pilgrimage fashion. To see the Light. Among the few he led there was even João Peste, founder of Ama Romanta. Canavarro and Ferreira preceded him.

Ferreira recalls an exciting learning process added to his experiments with Canavarro's array of synths such as the Korg Ms 20, Korg polysix, ARP Axxe, Roland SH-01, the Ensoniq Mirage sampler... He read in a magazine article about someone who had studied at the Institute of Sonology (then in Utrecht, Netherlands) and went there during a vacation trip in the Summer of 1983. He became excited by the prospect of studying at the Institute but money was a problem. Canavarro, on the other hand, was admitted there in the following year. Back in Portugal, Ferreira eventually abandoned his Chemical Engineering studies in Lisbon's Technical Institute in favour of a more focused music practice. He collaborated with Telectu during 1984 and 85 as a sort of technical engineer, implementing some recording solutions and background tapes and went to work at a thermoelectric power plant in Sines, hoping to make enough money to fund his musical studies. He did and proceeded with the paperwork for admission at the Institute of Sonology, now based in The Hague. António studied there in 1986-87 and the present album includes two compositions developed at the Institute: "More Adult Music" and "This Is Music, As It Was Expected", both featuring the voice of Rodney Waschka II. Among other activities and talents, Rodney is an expert in computer music and to António his voice sounded similar to Robert Ashley's, whose work he admired.

What happened at the Institute was a systematization of António's self-taught practice. Computer software, Musique Concrète, noise and silence, organisation of abstract ideas and sounds. The original notes on the back sleeve of the LP give some indication of process and thinking, but a more detailed account was given by António in the liner notes of the CD reissue in 2002, which are also included in this 2025 LP reissue.

The music sounds deep and detailed, despite the fact of António calling it low-fi ("Baixa Fidelidade"). It flows like an improvised performance where several musicians might be responding to each other, respectful of their mutual space. Drama occurs, as a natural emotional connection is sought by the listener. Piano, bells, drone, processed voices, even the clear narrative of Rodney Waschka II, contribute to create a sort of alternative perceptual reality. The sounds are almost tangible, more a part of the physical world than ethereal manifestations and thus it would not be correct to invoke "ambient music" as a selling point. But although "physical" and distinct, this music is still alien, more so in Portugal's 1988 environment. In March, helped by Canavarro, António set up a home studio and there he recorded the remaining material for this album: "Algumas Pessoas Olharam O Sul E Viram Deserto", "Um Som, Seguido De Uma Cena Negra E Malva" and "O Verão Nasceu Da Paixão De 1921".

"Música de Baixa Fidelidade" stands not only as a proof of great resilience but as one of those magnificent works of art coming from someone who balanced technical inclination and emotional sensibility. Because of that, Tózé Ferreira is able to decode the phantom world of sound for anyone who cares to experience the sensation of inhabiting a version of the Future. First ever vinyl reissue, reproduction of the original artwork with an additional insert. Made in collaboration with the artist and the support of Paulo Menezes (Plancton Music), who provided valuable assistance. Remastered by Taylor Deupree.

Ten years on, Joana Gama and Luís Fernandes show no signs of slowing down. Over the past decade, the duo has released five albums, composed soundtracks for film and television, and created pieces for performing arts. With “Strata”, they embark on a bold exploration of their musical identity, breaking new ground by seeking the primordial, the raw, and forging a deeper creative synergy. This evolution makes their music feel less like a conversation and more like a unified, introspective monologue.

Until now, their work has largely been defined by dialogue - a dynamic exchange of ideas evident in their earlier records. However, in their relentless drive to push boundaries, they now turn inward, embracing a monologue as a pathway for growth, innovation, and celebration of their journey so far. Two key elements shape this transition: Joana’s growing affinity for synthesizers over piano, a direction initiated in “There’s no knowing”, and her integration of field recordings gathered from diverse locations around the world. Rather than stepping into each other’s domain, the duo finds common ground, creating music that thrives on harmony and introspection.

“Strata” stands as Joana and Luís's quieter and most cohesive record to date. It reflects their desire to craft music that resonates with the natural world, unfolding as a seamless stream of sound that enhances their connection and invites the listener into their creative process. While their previous works were compelling, they often felt distant, as if the listener was observing from the sidelines. “Strata”, by contrast, draws the listener in, encouraging them to fill the spaces and find their own place within the duo’s monologue.

This process climaxes in the closing track, "Geode," where the subtle sounds of debris underscore the tightly woven structure of “Strata”. It’s a testament to the duo's commitment to evolution and their ability to surprise both themselves and their audience. A decade into their collaboration, “Strata” reaffirms Joana and Luís's creative vitality, offering a record that feels both fresh and deeply rooted in their artistic vision.

The world was a different place in June 2020. Most of us were coming out of a first lockdown and accepting limitations, new fears, and changes in our lives. There was some hope things were going to be better, optimism in the summer, a new beginning. For some, like Molero, it was. He released his first album in June 2020, one he had been working on over the previous years. “Ficciones Del Trópico” felt like a discovery, the synths approached a new world, raw, full of wonder, fresh. It was the sound we needed, the horizon we were longing for.

Four years have passed. Molero spent most of that time thinking about and creating the music for “Destellos Del Éxtasis”. If “Ficciones Del Trópico” lived in the depths of the Amazon jungle, “Destellos Del Éxtasis” releases itself from a physical location/idea and creates upon symbolism and the abstract. The more we listen to it, the more we get lost in how he created music that is shapeless, no angles, constantly morphing, transforming into something else.

Like magic, alchemy, but also like visions, hallucinatory visions, or dreams if dreams could step out into reality. And the more we get lost, the more we are convinced the music from “Destellos Del Éxtasis” is part of us, of our body, present as a permanently passing cloud. It gets into dark places, moving constantly into new ground, testing feelings, emotions and how they gravitate with sound. There’s something different in each track. Like magic. Not magical music (but there’s an argument for that). We prefer music for magic. Ritualistic, celebratory, transformative and increasingly visual. Close your eyes, it will open your perception. Follow the ecstasy, let yourself go. The reward is here.

Clothilde’s new album sounds like a constant departure from almost everything. Up until now, her music pieces seemed uncontrolled, a total commitment to the machines. She was, somehow, in between us - listener, audience - and the idea of a machine producing sounds she doesn’t seem to control. Of course, none of this was entirely true, she was mostly in control, but the fantasy, the orchestration of it was beautiful. It was sci-fi-ish, Metropolis-magnificent.

In “Cross Sections” everything is purposely under control. We feel, without being told, that Clothilde is directing the narrative, inviting us to partake of this raw and austere electronic sound, forcing us to learn to enjoy it. This is new. Whereas before she would expect you to stay put and listen, eventually you would understand and give in. Or your body would. Now she is telling you to be there, she doesn’t want to be alone, she wants us to feel this subterranean urgency at all costs.

The real eureka moment comes with “Medullary Rays”, when we start cohabiting with the sounds, when they feel familiar. The darkness becomes real; it is palpable how she is stretching each sound and making them come to life at every moment. It is violent, brutal. Like every track, it's a relief when it ends, it's like coming out of a car crash alive. Much of the A side of is Clothilde pushing the boundaries of her sound. She is not testing but finding new ground and sharing it with us. She is exorcising, demolishing and building over and over again, she is crying and screaming, dozing off with the demential levels of bass, making us constantly listen to alarm bells. She is scaring the shit out of us.

The B side keeps the levels of anxiety high up, especially on the 13-minute “Ring”. Surrealistic drones come and go, every second sounds like the end of something, the accumulation of tension is torrential and it never, never stops. We hope there is a conclusion to this. But there is not. “Cross Sections” builds and feeds on this darkness but, in a way, it is self-contained. Never explodes, never releases itself from itself. It is a continuous process of catharsis that it is never over. It never aims to be. Like, you know, life itself.

We've all been there. It feels familiar. Now it has a sound, or sounds. It can be heard and it is outer dimensional. “Cross Sections” is a tremendous effort from an artist trying to survive something. You never know what is. You don’t need to know what it is. It is just there. Cliché but it has to be said: highest possible volume on this one.

Tip!

Polido has been fantasizing with the idea of free music throughout his artistic career. Free from restraints, logos, musical genres, but also from this modern obsession with narratives, plans, business plans, algorithms and bubble wrapped ideas for comfort of those of you that can’t breathe without everything making sense.
“Hearing Smoke” has nothing of that. It has been four years since Holuzam released the double album “A Casa e os Cães / Sabor a Terra” and for four years I have been daydreaming about what would come next. This is it, eleven new pieces about the future of the future of music. It is the result of years of study, research and sound consolidation. Sound as matter, mutating, transforming, absorbing all around, a shapeshifting entity connecting with the principles of freedom.

"Polido has been researching Portuguese contemporary composition, its very own sounds and ideas. Its origins, the web of repression, tension and censorship before the April 25th revolution in 1974; secondly, as an afterthought, freedom, equality and a unique sense of community and belonging screaming through the music. He absorbed those states of mind and made an album that listens to the current world and presents globalization as a mental trap.
If the music that inspired him somehow comes from a post-colonial world, “Hearing Smoke” questions how we can create something new in this permanent state of cultural colonization, where new trends or forms of music only thrive if they are accepted by the dominant cultures. The physical world has been transformed, but ideas like “world music” or “ghetto music” still show that dominance, the Strange can only be accepted if it incorporates the rules and codes of that dominant force. What I am saying is that it is hard for Portuguese musicians to present themselves as original. They will never have that credit unless the music relates to something that exists in another

realm. Never for their benefit, but for the power of association. I may sound arrogant here, but Polido is unique, original, one of a kind (all those words, all those redundant synonyms). I knew it four years ago when I got lost in the way “A Casa e os Cães” is assembled and how he makes something memorable out of the most commonplace conversations. “Hearing Smoke” continues the flow and puts us in the centre of these ever evolving masses of sound.
Somehow his music finds you, it starts speaking with you until it asks you to be a part of it. Polido’s beats and harmonics are combined in such a tender way that you mellow out while listening to these beats - thinking of the brilliant “Saque”. Even when he exposes you to something more harsh - “Canto D’Amorte” or the closing moments of the last track “Custa A Crer” - there’s still a cradle effect.
But what keeps me returning to this album is how it seems to transform in my ears. Not every time I listen to it, but while I am listening to it. The sound seems to move, embracing me and controlling my inner thoughts. These start to move along at the same pace, with the same feeling of cloudiness. Nothing new here, the thing is how it feels different from time to time, how the music, because of something that changes or moves, comes as a catharsis/revelation. It drives me nuts how the beats come and go in tracks like “Fogo Firme (Encomendação)” or “The More I Think, The Less I Can Speak“, leaving everything suspended and, simultaneously, relieved. When dramatic - ”Prova De Existência“ - it is sad af and gorgeously epic.

Trap, bass music, dubstep, ambient, hauntology and contemporary music flow side by side here, no pushing around, free of interpretation, and you are free to feel or listen to whatever you want in “Hearing Smoke”. That’s free music for you. Not a hard concept, something for you to enjoy, feel, reflect about. This is what the future will sound like."

André Santos // Holuzam

very dope.

With this EP an attempt is made at documenting the vibrant action happening during the late 1970s and early 1980s in the Pioneer Valley area of Western Massachusetts, US. The story is richer than the snapshot we present here, and a more detailed account is to be found in the accompanying book that can be purchased separately.

The Five Colleges in Hampshire County congregated a vast student population that inevitably interacted with the towns in the area. Bars, music and record stores, live music and a lot of experimentation and free thinking. Hampshire College, especially, promoted new approaches to teaching, subjects that might be considered radical by some even today, although a more favourable context would now surely exist for openly debating such topics as American Indians, Kayak Design, Black Oral Tradition, Food Management, etc. And the music? The immediate "punk effect" motivated the creation of numerous bands, many short lived, others evolving into New Wave / Power Pop territory, eventually crossing into Post-Punk experimentation. What is captured in "Noho EP" is a more electronic disposition, favoured by the existence of EMS gear and other equipment at Hampshire College and University of Massachusetts. We chose to focus on a group of musicians who, for a time, played together in different combinations under the loose umbrella of the Tekno Tunes label and the structure around it.

These musicians come from very different backgrounds and the nucleus portrayed here consisted of Christopher Vine, Elliott Sharp, James Whittemore and Nicholas Brown.

Of the several line-up changes The Scientific Americans went through, it was actually only the duo of Chris Vine and Jim Whittemore who recorded "Among Bodge Watt". Never before released, it is a companion piece to their track "El Salvador" available on the 1981 ROIR tape-album "Load & Go!". The Sci Ams were founders of the Tekno Tunes label and also created the Tekno Tours "concert promotion agency", under which name they exposed local audiences to bands such as The Stranglers, The Slits, Pylon, Pere Ubu, The Psychedelic Furs, The Bush Tetras, Steel Pulse, etc. Their own sound kept progressing but at its best there's a solid dub undercurrent, pretty obvious in "Among Bodge Watt".

Human Error was born out of a collective jam by Chris Vine, Elliott Sharp, Jim Whittemore and Nick Brown. Elliott Sharp had moved to Northampton in August of 1978 and naturally became involved in the local music scene, hooking up first with Whittemore at a hi-fi audio store where he worked at the time. Basement jams followed stimulating conversations, and other musicians joined the sessions. "Clandestinator" sounds gorgeously loose, an effortless groove coming from a quasi-dub set-up. Nothing here seems calculated, the music just flows, contagious and irregular as the handclaps in the mix.

The Higher Primates later evolved into a "proper" band but started as Nick Brown's solo project. The Primates only ever released a (now sought-after) 7" single in 1980 (on the Tekno Tunes label, precisely). Both tracks on "Noho EP" were recorded the following year and never released until now. "Auto Music in the Disco Dub Style" is self-explanatory, with a steady, mid-tempo TR808 beat running through, supporting synth squelches, echoes and reverbs, a fat bassline, dissonant melodic lines and odd vocal snippets. Kind of a DJ tool when the concept was barely in place. The more uptempo "Teresa Variations" adds a Fender Jazz bass and Selmer sax to the electronics. It actually sounds more "Disco", even with the robotic, unintelligible vocals. On top of this, the vibe is sealed by the overall Radiophonic Workshop analogue strangeness applied to a dance beat.

João Almeida (trumpet) and Pedro Melo Alves (drums), two of the most creative and prolific Portuguese jazz musicians of their generation, are MOORIS. Recorded in May 2021, right after the second lockdown in Portugal, “I” shows them freely exploring their instruments of choice but also finding and creating sound with “objects”, as they describe.

Both musicians leave behind familiar ground and use their instruments to create sounds that appear ceremonial or even manifest themselves as rituals. “+” sets the tone, dark, sparse and haunting, and the next four tracks (all on the "positive" side, with “+” added to each title) make use of the freedom proposed by this experiment with the uncanny. The “objects” start appearing, creating movement, confusion and dancing around different genres, from dark metal to industrial.

Flashes of jazz can be heard throughout, particularly on the B side (the "negative" side), with all tracks following the same conceptual logic as the A Side (“-”, “- -”, etc.). The atmosphere is clearer here. João’s trumpet ascends to a new level and creates new concepts in the fourth world realm. In a matter of seconds, it shifts naturally to somewhere else, the dense/dark atmosphere experienced on the A side becomes a distant memory and we are now flowing with the sounds, not trapped in them. A beautiful release after a tense/intense beginning.

After spending the last year constantly listening to “I”, MOORIS' debut still sounds brutal and unforgiving. A rare breed.

Unreleased but perfectly formed "hidden" album, recorded in 1989-90 by Nuno Rebelo on the wake of his "Sagração Do Mês De Maio" double LP (composed in 1988 as soundtrack to the third Manobras de Maio fashion event in Lisbon). The tracks convey a sense of investigative curiosity regarding computer composition and they sound wonderfully artificial. Titles as "Moon OK", "Tiny Space Ships" or "Dança Das Creaturas Elásticas" ("Elastic Creatures Dance") embody this idea of otherworldness, a kind of music actually coming from another place, composed and played by elastic creatures. It displays the functional qualities of Library Music, illustrating playful as much as moody and dense moments. In this way the album comes across as a soundtrack for moving images, sure, but with unusual framing and sharp angles. A unique object in the Portuguese avantgarde, keeping its distance from Academia but also from contemporary independent releases ("Plux Quba" by Nuno Canavarro comes to mind). António Duarte's 2019 mastering enhances this collection of music liberated from the archives of one of the most brilliant, active and challenging musicians of his generation.

Nuno Rebelo was born in 1960, graduated in Architecture, founded Street Kids and Mler Ife Dada, played in the "transitional" line up of GNR in 1982. His creativity expanded into improvised music. Performances and recordings with other musicians multiplied. He composed music for theatre, dance, jingles and, on an almost contradictory scale to his underground credentials, soundtracks for the Expo 98 and Porto 2001 mega events.

“Improvisações Cristalizadas” by Nuno Rebelo:
Short electronic pieces composed in 1989-90 using the Atari 1040ST computer with Steinberg Pro24 Software, Two Yamaha Sound Modules (TX81ZX and TG55) and Ensoniq Mirage Sampler with keyboard. The composition method for each piece evolved from a short improvisation on the Mirage keyboard, recorded in MIDI to the computer. Counterpoint permutations (inversion, reversion, inverted reversion, transpositions) were then applied through the software, distributing the variations of the initial improvisation by other timbres. No other musical material was used.

In recent years ambient music has changed and encountering Jon Hassell's fourth world design has become easy. Most of the time there’s no feeling, no narrative, a nothingness of ideas through layers and layers of pastiche and boring bedroom music. This is not bashing. Just a reminder that sometimes the information trap delays an understanding of how good music really is.

“Cavalcante” is the new release by funcionário (born Pedro Tavares). You’ll find Jon Hassell in these eleven pieces. And yes, sometimes you’ll think about ambient music. Most of the time you’ll wonder about what is really happening. And why it's only now you’re hearing about this twenty-something musician from Setúbal, Portugal.

A little bit more than one minute into “En Garde!”, the opening track, one feels challenged by the idea that everything that was listened up to that moment was a false start. The piece abruptly stops, flips some digital sound, and restarts in a whole new direction. As this happens it becomes obvious we are in for a treat. Those two, three seconds create a sensation that everything happens in a moment that introduces you to funcionário's craft: delicate complex sounds infatuated with the idea of movement and the never-ending notion that there’s no dividers in the fourth world. Music can go beyond that.

As it moves forward – “Verde”, “Sierra” or “Publicidade Arco e Flecha” -, the album (his fourth) morphs around variations or perceptions of ambient / electronic / experimental music. And as the language evolves, it hints on how funcionário keeps stretching the boundaries of digital music as he wishes to advance to a more analog setup. In a way, he confronts foundational ideas while having breakthroughs and realizing he is at a top level. Justifiably ambitious, bright and discreetly edgy.

Sabaturin is Charles-Émile Beullac (Galerie Stratique, Canada) and Simon Crab (Bourbonese Qualk, United Kingdom). In the spirit of old school tape exchanges that resulted in musical collaborations developed over long periods of time but informed by the infinitely easier processes of the digital age, "Kenemglev" was assembled without the musicians ever meeting.

The title "Kenemglev" means "consensus" in Breton, something which quite naturally had to be achieved between both musicians. The other consensus was a sort of virtual middle ground symbolized by the Breton language, particular to a geographical area (Brittany) that both agreed would stand for a neutral meeting point between their respective native languages and, consequently, cultures. All titles are Breton words and the name Sabaturin ("standing on one feet", "to be off-balance") expresses mainly Charles' excitement: "Simon's bold approach has been some kind of a shock therapy for my music".

The sleeve was designed by Simon Crab, using a Chladni pattern simulation based on specific pitches. Looking like stained glass, it sort of reflects the way the music is presented: although including 9 titles, the album's tracklist flows uninterrupted on each side of the vinyl, semi-mixed, blended.

Detailed electronic ambience, glitches, loops and tiny details are augmented by a sort of signature rhythmic grid we recognize from "My Government Is My Soul"-era Bourbonese Qualk. It never settles into a formula and so the music remains loose, as much Mille Plateaux as classic 80s industrial shortwave-sampling or dub, rolled into one same entity, touching base with the gorgeous glitch dub "Morgouskus". This concludes a gentle and discreet album that doesn't require the validation of being associated with any of the current keywords in the electronic music scene.

The music on this EP was conceived in China, between 1989 and 1993. The original tracks were mixed to DAT in real time, in a small neighbour-proof studio inside my apartment in Macau, a 19th floor with a view to the hurricanes. There's a small, unexpected or improbable story behind each track, some little magic fused with the local atmosphere, certainly guaranteeing their lasting authenticity 25 years later.

TAIPEI DISCO
Late 80s Guangzhou was an exotic city where the traditional past coexisted in harmony with the present and even already with the future.
I'd rather spend my weekends in Guangzhou than diving into Hong Kong consumerism - as most ex-pats in Macau did. I took a cab at the border and travelled 150 Km through chaotic roads with family and friends until reaching the hot, humid, mega South China metropolis.
We ate on street joints in the evenings, went on to a karaoke bar and ended up at Taipei Disco, the only proper club in town. All the others were inside hotels and played generic music or they were seedy, sleazy, smoky cabarets.
Taipei Disco used to be a cinema and played cantonese pop music and anglo-saxon pop/rock (that was new). The spacious dance floor was generously lighted, the atmosphere was airy and modern. Boys and girls were in the habit of dancing in pairs, one in front of the other, observing a respectful yet sensual distance. When the girl took a few steps back, the boy went along and vice versa. With legs and feet (more than the upper bodies) synchronized with the music, they never exceeded in extroversion. Cool.
I always carried a MicroComposer and a portable DAT recorder in my travels through China and weekends in Canton. Any spontaneous musical idea was imediately recorded and memorized. The MicroComposer allowed multitrack recording, which was very handy on the road. Based on the emphatic choreography of Taipei Disco's dancers, i started to compose a rhythm track while sitting at a table, with headphones, listening to Cantopop in the background. As if by magic - not a rare occasion in music - everything began fitting together. Odd as it may seem, the track ended up sounding more germanic (Kraftwerkian) than Cantonese pop.

The story ends in a circle: the cantonese DJ at Taipei Disco, whom i used to ask to play certain records, wanted to play my music at the disco when it was basically only just a rhythm track and little else. From a cupboard under his set up he took out a battered keyboard (unrecognizable brand) and invited me to play over the track with the available sounds on the keyboard. The circle was complete, with Cantonese clubbers happily dancing forwards and backwards, as if it were another Cantopop hit.
I didn't get payed but the house offered us free ice cream cups in which little Portuguese flags were sticked.
The track would be finished later, in studio, with vocoder strings ensemble and synth solos.

TAIPEI DISCO (LIVE)
The live version of 'Taipei Disco' was recorded during a live set at the China Pop venue, in Macau, 1993. China Pop was a rock club built in the ample space of an old fishing warehouse, located in the labyrinthic Inner Harbour area. It was decorated with large Mao Zedong and Cultural Revolution posters and memorabilia and had a unique atmosphere, fusing Pop Art with film noir. We began our performance at 1AM, pretty early for Macau's nightlife standards. We were lucky. An audience showed up. And in Macau there were always several friends among the audience, which tranformed a musical performance into a relaxed party.
The atmosphere was particularly surreal on that night. The front row was dominated by French Crazy Horse dancers, a sort of Oriental Moulin Rouge. The girls had finished their last performance of the evening at the Crazy Horse and were still energized from their show. During our performance, right in front of us and perfectly synched, we could hear the famous irreverent screams of can-can dancers. You always had to expect the unexpected in Macau.

RED MAMBO (IMPROMPTU)
I was familiar with the Portuguese-speaking African countries well before having lived in China. I found myself returning several times to one in particular, always attracted by its magic and very distinct, identitary culture and music: Cape Verde.
During the early years of DWART a lot of the inspiration for drum machine rhythms (Roland's TR series) came from African music, especially from new musical trends that gained full autonomy with Cape Verde's independence from Portugal, as was the case with funaná.
I had the privilege of having known and befriended some of the greatest Capeverdian composers, musicians and singers during the 70s and 80s, such as Bana, Luís Morais, Cesária Évora, Paulino Vieira, Chico Serra, Tito Paris, and historical bands such as Bulimundo (ambassadors of funaná) and Os Tubarões (great innovators of morna, coladera and funaná, with the sonic impact of an afro-beat big band).
When Luís Filipe de Barros began playing Os Tubarões for the first time on Portuguese radio, that was the turning point for African music in Portugal. The 'Tabanca' album was so widely heard and talked about that it quickly got a Portuguese release through one of the big labels of the time.
The mystic of this band from the Santiago Island would reach the East. Os Tubarões played to a packed room in Macau in 1992, and after the bombastic gig we arranged a dinner and party at my place.
We ate and drank generously and the moment came for a jam session at the small studio on the 19th floor. Because Os Tubarões didn't all fit in the studio, we recorded an impromptu with only three of the musicians: Tótó Silva (electric guitar), Mário Russo Bettencourt (bass) and Zeca Couto (piano). And there we were improvising without barriers, suddenly detached from cultural roots, labels and constraints, a truly unique moment. The track is now being released exactly as it was recorded, imbued with the real communion between the musicians. And it could only be titled 'Red Mambo'. I wish to dedicate it to the memory of Ildo Lobo and Jaime do Rosário, founders of Os Tubarões, sadly and too soon departed from the land of music.

Tape



Over the course of two nights, a few weeks before the pandemic arrived in Portugal, André Gonçalves (ADDAC System) and Casper Clausen (Efterklang) recorded music from another realm, dreamy and scary at the same time, sounds complete but it seems to be falling apart at any moment. It is like an alien language or a way to process sound that sounds foreign because it is different from everything else, formally, and aesthetically. This is “Aether”, 37 minutes of constant take-off. A departure from what both musicians have done in the past.

That’s the beauty of these collaborations. You don’t know exactly the point of departure and where it leads. “Aether” masters that feeling throughout seven parts. The synthesized sounds hang in the air like clouds slowly moving, transforming into something else. Sometimes they touch each other and form something else. Or they just hang in there, waiting, just waiting. And then Casper Clausen’s voice shows up and offers a “Twin Peaks” feeling to everything, transforming that sound mass into ethereal melodies that become too overwhelming.

We think about all those Popol Vuh soundtracks from the Werner Herzog films, the fog that never goes away. The constant ecstasy of creating something magical or achieving the impossible. Or even Vangelis and his ability to elevate simple sounds into something beautiful and glorious. Both share this element of the unexpected, you’ll never know what you’ll listen to or feel during the process of active listening. It is a bizarre but comforting experience, a synthetic dream you want to be part of. Music to be touched and felt.

We navigate a delicate sonic grid, immersed in what could be compared to an Ocean Of Sound. But this is not functional listening, much less decorative. It's the mood of one person expressed through sound. Actual sensory / sensual experiences recorded on location and mixed into an intimate narrative featuring other, outer, field recordings, intense, celestial voices, Vera Dvale's original music, as well as compositions from other artists. A personal flow is communicated to the listener from a coast in the deep North, allowing the listener a trip of the imagination. From inner world to inner world via outside space.

Tape

The occult and folk music have been friends for a while. In the 21st century, hauntology and the resurface of some cult soundtracks from the 1970s and 1980s helped to create a new sense of folk, not associated with the typical acoustic feeling, but more relatable with library, krautrock/kosmische and industrial music. João Kyron and Tony Watts, long time collaborators since the late 1990s with their band Hipnótica, and more recently with Beautify Junkyards (Ghost Box) are well acquainted with this friendship. Hidden Horse is their new project as a duo and “Opala” their first release.

With eight tracks and almost thirty minutes, their first release explores dense and greyish urban utopias. The song titles explore ideas that mix sci-fi, horror, science, space and urban phobia, and the music Kyron and Watts create delivers, using electronics and drums with great relish. Their relationship as musicians, which spans more than two decades, can be felt in the way their music flows with a continuous dialogue.

“Opala” is always keen to take you to another dimension. It lives in its own twilight zone, where the obscure entangles the most obvious senses of reality. It sounds like Jacques Tati “Playtime” with a hauntology soundtrack: it kind of feels that this imaginary world is real, but it’s not. And it sucks you in to be a part of it and enjoy it: close your eyes and let yourself go while listening to “Levitação Magnética” or “Fantasmas do Planeta”. You will feel like a foreigner in a new city.