Dulce Pontes - Lágrimas

Sadly, no Quim Barreiros

Having represented Portugal in the Eurovision song contest of 1991, Dulce Pontes' unquestionable singing talent was already well established within Portugal’s cultural consciousness. Lusitana Paixão was a sappy, trite and vapid national pride ballad, but this was enough to secure an 8th place finish. Her outstanding vocal command notwithstanding, she was still lacking individuality, both personally and artistically. Her debut disc, which was filled with very well sung adult contemporary slop but her sophomore attempted something different altogether.

Enya’s success in the late 80s/early 90s had a major impact in Dulce. The obvious Portuguese analogue to Enya’s merger of Celtic Folk and New Age, 1993’s Lágrimas swaps the naturalistic awe for the more urban, dull portuguese melancholy and hops around through both style and history. Indeed, only three of the songs can be credited to Dulce herself, with the rest covering portuguese standards from fado to folk and even música de intervenção. And while sometimes these interpretations pay strict homage to their original form, most of the time they subvert and morph it into a bizarre fusion of pop, world and folk.

Canção do Mar (which garnered a non-trivial amount of recognition abroad) starts off the album with a powerful and dramatic showcase of Dulce’s attempt to “modernize” fado. Violins, not a typical fado instrument, blare with a descending melody, as if emulating a slowly sinking ship, while Dulce sings about lost love and what could have been. The production could be seen as overwrought, especially when compared to the somewhat minimalistic origins of fado.

The title track and Estranha Forma de Vida stick close to this traditional fado sound: somber, vocally virtuosic and backed by excellent guitar accompaniment, even if the former insists on the some light string atmospherics. In contrast, Povo Que Lavas no Rio is a downright heretical reimagining of what is typically a morose and soulful fado standard. Laurindinha, a song which any portuguese person will instantly recognize as extremely annoying, is rendered with a mixture of folk instrumentation and new age stylings which bewilder anyone familiar with traditional renditions.

Songs by portuguese songwriting legend José “Zeca” Afonso populate the album, also being offered up with varied interpretations (and fluctuating quality). The revolutionary anthem As Sete Mulheres do Minho is stripped down to a powerful multi-tracked a capella performance while Achégate a Mim Maruxa (originally a galician folk song) ends up oddly eerie for a love song. Os Índios da Meia Praia remains somewhat faithful to the bright and airy original, even through the new age production. As the album shapeshifts every 4 minutes, Dulce Pontes is really the only constant, providing a tether to which the listener can hold on. She gives appropriate weight to slow and emotional passages and vocally is deft enough to pull off some of the brighter moments without descending into unintentional comedy. Of course, those unfamiliar may decry Dulce for “oversinging” but none of what she does ends up crossing that line.

All in all, I cannot completely endorse this album. The production can be horribly dated and it doesn’t flow very well as an album. It certainly does attempt something different, even if it’s not the most original way to mash-up the two styles. With that said, Dulce’s performance and some of the stronger cuts keep this well above mediocrity.