Raquel Tavares

Raquel Tavares

BandWorld

Raquel Tavares sings what she sees, feels and smells around her, what she daily lives. And nothing fulfils her more than the real and touchable stories written by the hand of Linhares Barbosa, the fado’s poet who better told the tales of the people.

Biography

Raquel Tavares lives where her fado dwells: in the heart of Alfama. A heart traditionally near the mouth, in the closest binding to the feelings one can aim.

It’s this quarter (bairro) that casts Raquels’s voice. It’s there, by living it day and night, that she is and feels more like a fado singer. Those were the recreation societies that saw her sing for the first times, still a young girl. Those are the streets that know each step of her everyday. Those are the people who, weather they know it or not, are fatally bonded to each word that comes from Raquel’s chest. And each word sounds as if dragged out from her soul, disclosed somewhere deep inside of her and brought to the surface at a “house of fados”, to extinguish itself the next moment. Raquel gives them the greatest truth of all: the momentary truth, only valid in that place and in that moment.

It mustn’t be over than 700 feet from her house to that other house, the fado’s one, where she sings professionally every night. As it mustn’t be over than 7 feet to the neighbours front window, who asks her “how’s your singing going, miss?”. All this happens in the narrow alleys of Alfama, in which lives are little private and enter the next doors without wonder. It’s from that collective feeling, of a people in its maximum authenticity who lives everything in an excessive, dramatic and therefore passionate way that Raquel’s voice feeds.

Raquel sings what she sees, feels and smells around her, what she daily lives. And nothing fulfils her more than the real and touchable stories written by the hand of Linhares Barbosa, the fado’s poet who better told the tales of the people.
But if Bairro quite naturally refers to Alfama, at the same time it lays to geography. An inside geography made of other streets and other alleys, other doors and Windows, that draw the musical path of Raquel Tavares. From the little girl who sang for pleasure to the woman who only takes pleasure from singing. This record states a series of fulcral moments in the fado singer’s musical route.

Only she has the key to open each of the secrets here contained, but it’s no longer a secret that Raquel Tavares, winner of the Revelation Award Amália Rodrigues 2006, it’s not only a voice which promises a lot.

Here, in Bairro, she begins to fulfil that promise.
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Raquel Tavares was born in Lisbon, on 11 January 1985, in the heart of a family already with close connections to fado.

She had a normal route on her education, but finally decided she couldn’t leave music behind. She won the biggest song contest dedicated to fado in Portugal: “Grande Noite Do Fado”. She sings regularly at “Bacalhau De Molho”, one of the most famous fado houses in Lisbon, and has made shows all around world, in countries like France, Italy, Argentina, Uruguay, Chile, Belgium, Holland or Spain.

Raquel sings what she sees, feels and smells around her, what she lives from day to day. And nothing suits her purposes better than the tangible, real-life stories written by Linhares Barbosa, the fado poet who best told the tales of the people.

Her first album was released in 2006 and this was also the year when she was the winner of the Amália Rodrigues Revelation Prize, and press prize.

Her second album, Bairro, just came out in May 2008.
She’s been named one of the most representative fado singers of the new generation and received good media critics.

Lyrics

Rosa da madragoa

Written By: Moniz Pereira | João Dias

Rosa da Madragoa
Moniz Pereira
João Dias

No bairro da Madragoa
À janela de Lisboa
Nasceu a Rosa Maria
Filha de gente vareira
Foi criada na ribeira
Entre peixe e maresia
Flor, mulher, aquela rosa
Era a moça mais airosa
Que a lota já conheceu
E toda a malta do mar
Suspira ao vê-la passar
De chinela e perna ao léu

Lá vai a Rosa Maria
Que é a alegria desta ribeira
Ouve e ri à gargalhada
Qualquer piada por mais brejeira
Vai bugiar meu menino
Não deites barro à parede
Que esta rosa é peixe fino
P'rás malhas da tua rede

O jovem Chico Fateixa
Já jurou que não a deixa
Pois a paixão é teimosa
E é de tal modo a cegueira
Que deu à sua traineira
O nome daquela rosa
E a Rosa da Madragoa
Ao ver escrito na proa
Seu nome Rosa Maria
Ergueu os braços ao Chico
Começou o namorico
E vão casar qualquer dia

Sofrendo da alma

Written By: Amália Rodrigues | Guilherme Banza

Sofrendo da Alma
Guilherme Banza
Amália Rodrigues

Mais do que o corpo é a alma
É a alma que me dói
Que foi sofrendo da alma
Que a minha vida se foi
Que foi sofrendo da alma
Que a minha vida se foi
Mais do que o corpo é a alma
É a alma que me dói

Há muito que não sonhava
E esta noite sonhei
Sonhei hoje que te amava
Deus o que eu hoje sonhei

Longe do meu pensamento
A ideia de te amar
Amei-te em sonho um momento
Vê lá o que eu fui sonhar

Foi sonho que não esperava
Sonho que me deslumbrou
Não sabia que te amava
E hoje não sei quem sou

A nudez do meu fado

Written By: Fado Alexandrino do Estoril (Armando Freire – Armandinho) | Mário Raínho

Como asa de andorinha
Ou como um negro mato
Nos meus ombros discreta
A noite se debruça
Tão logo se adivinha
A hora de ser canto
E a rima de um poeta
Na minha voz soluça

Por estranho que pareça
Saio dentro de mim
E deixo exposta à lua
A nudez do meu fado
Para que o céu não esqueça
Que já me viu assim
Despida, de alma nua
Sem sombra de pecado

Se a noite me procura
Com estrelas no sorriso
Se dentro em mim cravou
O amor que me conquista
Deixai-me esta loucura
Que tanto me é preciso
Pois sem noite não sou
Nem fado, nem fadista

Discography

Raquel Tavares, Movieplay, 2006
Bairro, Movieplay, 2008

Set List

01. Lisboa, meu amor, Lisboa

02. Outra boa noite

03. Rosa da Madragoa

04. Saída (fim do fim)

05. Madrugadas serenas

06. Sofrendo da alma

07. A nudez do meu fado

08. Lua de Maio

09. Ouve Lisboa

10. Tia Dolores

11. Que seja amor

12. Fala da mulher sozinha

13. Lisboa garrida