Before you read this article, it's necessary for you to know that I'm an enormous fan of Madredeus. So, you'll not appreciate false objectivities or the hypocrisy of the critics who want to describe in a pseudo-scientific way the most irrational creation of humanity: music. I'm sorry for all the grammar mistakes you'll certainly find in my description. Try to be patient. The evening was cool and windy, we were late and I had forgotten the most important things: the camera, the recorder and the binoculars. We arrived at the time signed on the tickets, and we were able to see the artists rehearsing behind the scene. The show was part of a pseudo-political manifestation, and I imagined that we wouldn't have stayed in a theatre, but what I saw when I entered the place was obscene. The stage was on a football field, surrounded by a curtain of metallic barriers; two "fast foods" were in the middle of the field. The "extraordinary" publicity made by the local media had filled the few benches with no more than 300 people. The lights turned on and we all saw the sober but splendid scenography of the stage: an immense black curtain, tied as a sail, of great elegance, refinement and scenic taste. The elegance and the class of the musicians entered on the stage, but there was something strange; the people murmured: "...they are four...where are the cello and the accordion?...". The muttering was abruptly stopped by her entering on the stage; dressed in black, with a shawl and a great traditional gown. A thrill. The first caresses on the microphone were those of her voice announcing (in a perfect italian) the execution of a new repertoire (!?). Earing her voice pronouncing italian words was an emotion that an "aficionado" like me will never be able to understand and describe: she was one of us. But the people, remembering "Lisbon Story", were confused and someone wondered if they were really Madredeus. The music suddenly bloomed, muting every thought. The rite began and the priestess intoned the chant. The metallic barriers disappeared, as well as the present people, and the dialogue between the music, the voice and the heart of each one began. The wind stopped to see and was silent, while the stars danced on the clouds. In that moment I realized how the music is able to put together many and talk to each. She was there, swaying her gown in an hint of dance, while the new songs followed one another with short introductions. The enchantment suddenly broke after one hour of music. An interval (!?). The glances were astonished: "who ever have made an interval in the middle of a concert?" The minutes passed and the people were confused by the number of "surprises" and by the entirely new repertoire. After 25 minutes of waiting, Madredeus returned on the stage, while someone was beginning to stand up and go. The spell went on. Still new songs: Agora, Coisas Pequenas, and others. Really incredible. The most extraordinary thing came after twenty minutes, when Teresa, probably tired, began to sing sat on the stage on which Pedro e Josť were playing. She sang in such a manner for some minutes and it was moving: in those moments it was like being sat there with Teresa and talking with her about us, love, life. She talked to us personally, intimately. During the last songs I approached to the stage and I realized about all the people that were sat on the grass with an enraptured glance and a full heart. On the notes of a happy song Teresa started dancing and even the coolness of the audience couldn't impede a rumble of applauses. These applauses came from a great interior happiness that those artists dealt to us. The rite ended without old songs, without Gomes, without Ribeiro, without Rodrigo, without a theatre, without the needed popularity. But in the end everybody rose to it's feet to greet an evening of emotion and happiness. The final comment can be that the Madredeus transfigured the football field in the Scala theatre; transformed bad premises in a triumph; showed everybody a better world. Like Jorge Pires in his book about Madredeus I think I should end with "Que palavras? (what words?)".


from the site Madredeus - O Porto -