Lisbon sounds like the future: these are the most transgressive nights in Europe

Electronic sounds flood Lisbon's Edward VII Park. The musician and producer Branko, a local celebrity, officiates an afternoon with the most prominent electronic artists in Portugal. It is the closing day of the third edition of Sónar Lisboa, the culmination of a very hectic weekend in Lisbon that has seen Björk mix as another attendee among the festival audience and Patti Smith perform and present an exhibition at the Cultural Center from Belem. In recent years, the city bathed by the Tagus has become a magnet for creators from all over the world.

Seduced by the lax taxation that has prevailed from 2009 until this year (known as

golden visas

),

foreign residents and real estate investors have multiplied in the capital. Meanwhile, the local art scene has become a trench of resistance against savage gentrification. A difficult balance that has been found in that other Lisbon, the multicultural, nocturnal and underground, a true refuge. Enric Palau, co-founder of Sónar (which celebrates its mother edition in Barcelona from June 13 to 15), summarizes it: “International electronic artists as influential as Charlotte de Witte, Nina Kraviz or Richie Hawtin already have one foot permanently in Lisbon. We cannot deny that the reduced tax policy has been attractive to many. But, in parallel, an entire community has grown that has jumped from Lisbon to the world, spreading very interesting and unique connections with sounds from Brazil and Lusophone Africa such as Angola, Sao Tome, Cape Verde, Guinea-Bissau and Mozambique.”

Below, a night tour of the essential stops on this new map of the sounds of Lisbon. We are accompanied by some of its main agitators, who reflect on the present and immediate future of an

increasingly threatened

underground scene.

19.00 An alternative afternoon in Arroios

Arroios is the central neighborhood that has undergone a most radical transformation process. A true multiethnic hotbed (almost 80 nationalities, with a particular presence of Indians and Bangladeshis, living together in a couple of square kilometers), it is a 10-minute walk from Baixa. Until recently, it had a reputation for being dangerous due to drug and crime problems. In 2011, the then mayor António Costa moved his offices to an old ceramics factory on Intendente Street, as a gesture of his firm intention to rehabilitate an area that today has skyrocketed in prices. In parallel, just opposite, Casa Independiente opened: a typical three-story building full of charm that has served since then as the epicenter of the alternative scene. It started as a space for artistic residencies and soon became the place where many musicians and creators performed and exhibited. Its multiple lounges, populated by recovered furniture, and the generous interior terrace offer everything from having afternoon coffee to snacking, sharing a cocktail or dancing at a DJ session.

All paths of alternative culture in the Portuguese capital lead to Casa Independiente. As Patricia Craveira, advisor at Sónar Lisboa and one of the founders of this space, says with her expansive smile, “we have given shelter and seen the growth of the majority of artists who make up the scene today. We are like a mother's heart: we always have room for one more.” Although, she announces, her days in this location are numbered: “Soho House [the international chain for select members] has bought the entire block. The building we have door to door is going to be a private club and hotel; the back lot, a pool for members. After 12 years here, they don't renew our contract. They kick us out in a year and a half. Lisbon is at a crossroads, like Barcelona a few years ago: tourism and foreign investment are destroying everything local.” And she cites the song by the musician of Cape Verdean descent Dino D'Santiago that Branko produced five years ago titled

Nova Lisboa

.

Its lyrics: “They say we're fashionable but what's the idea?”

21.00 The roots of African dance, on the banks of the river

To understand all this change, we meet with Branko, the man that everyone points out. João Barbosa owes his stage name to the fact that he was always the target of his gang. Music lovers will recognize him for commanding Buraka Som Sistema, the project that changed everything and brought him international success more than 15 years ago. Growing up in the

parish

(or district) of Buraca, in Amadora, he and his group collected the heritage of the Angolan kuduro dance to fuse it with electronic music. Today he is, along with the DJ of Sao Tomean descent Marfox, the godfather of intercultural music in the capital. His Enchufada label accommodates all these “ghetto sounds.”

He himself explains: “Before Buraka Som Sistema, the most racial music was experienced in the suburbs: Amadora, Loures, Sintra… From then on, an entire generation was represented by a cultural identity that went far beyond fado. Today it is an unstoppable revolution that has taken the center of the city. Lisbon retains its authenticity, unlike other European capitals that have been 100% gentrified: it is civilized and uncivilized enough that everything can happen at the same time. You can have a posh club in one place and, right next door, a space where something illegal is happening,” he laughs.

Branko proposes stopping at B.Leza, a club on the banks of the Tagus where he himself officiated before the pandemic at the Na Surra party (translatable as 'the scourge' or 'saying something in secret'), and which today remains one of the reference places for African music. “If you want something authentic, here you have it. It is where the African working community comes together to dance after a hard week.” From Thursday to Sunday, there are world music concerts. Also sessions that claim styles such as the Angolan batida, where influences from kizomba [grabbed dance], funaná [a Cape Verde rhythm based on the accordion] or afrohouse are incorporated.

22.30 The night heats up in Bairro Alto

Perched on the steep slopes of Bairro Alto is Zé Dos Bois (known by its acronym ZDB), a space run by the Catalan Natxo Checa since 1994. Checa arrived in Lisbon in 1986, at the age of 18, and set up a marginal theater group . He would end up founding this cultural association, today established in a three-story building from the late 17th century where you can buy an artist's book in its bookstore, see a contemporary exhibition or have a drink on its aerial terrace. Although it mainly brings together music players. Theirs is one of the most solid and hectic programming in the capital, which ranges from indie to experimental electronica, including Afro sounds.

Txeca reflects on the changes experienced since his landing. “In the nineties everything was very 'do it yourself', this was a city full of possibilities, with many incredible buildings closed or abandoned, which we requested for cultural activities and they gave them to us. Even today, despite murderous gentrification, things can be organized. The fact that there are more people has also given us more critical mass and more capacity for cultural consumption. On the other hand, half of your neighbors are gone. I live in the very center and I see places disappear at full speed. The premises where we were no longer exist. You go down to Camões Square [in the heart of Chiado], and only the O Trevo bar remains. Designer cafes have eaten up the classics,” he laments.

The night of our meeting, ZDB Gala Drop, Nelson Gomes' krautdub band, performs on stage. Together with André Ferreira, he is one of the main promoters of the Portuguese scene from his record label Príncipe. Even with dopamine shooting after playing, Gomes points out that “there are also positive things in this whole transformation. We no longer see just any DJ taking advantage of his cultural identity, but rather the artists themselves from the diaspora and the periphery have taken their voice from the booth. Tourists expect to come into contact with this local culture and many promoters have had the intelligence to adapt to this demand. From the Príncipe label we have acted as switches to make that happen. Or, as Lee

Scratch

Perry said, 'unifiers,' he laughs. It is what Branko calls

“filho conductor”,

the common thread, the energy that connects them all.

00.00 The second drink, in the center

Nelson Gomes and Natxo Checa point out the obligatory stops before diving into

clubbing

. If we haven't had dinner yet, we have one last chance at Damas, a

trendy-trash

restaurant with tapas to share at a good price in Alfama that also schedules concerts. Without leaving Bairro Alto, there is Lisa, a mini-disco with multicultural performances, also live. It is run by the owners of Vago, a trendy bar “somewhat posh but with good programming”, inspired by the formula of the

very hipster

Brilliant Corners in London: good music, good cocktails, good food. Gomes also highlights MusicBox, an independent cultural center in Cais do Sodré that functions as a performance hall and dance space and that for more than 10 years served as a residence for the Príncipe label parties. Here performances by musical artists who respond to trends give way to dancing until the wee hours.

2.00 Dance and get lost between Marvila and Prior Velho

Many merits must be recognized for LuxFrágil, the discotheque next to the Tagus River that made its way into the Lisbon night at the turn of the century, but, unfortunately, inclusivity is not one of them. Neither does the freshness. Converted into a leisure place for tourists, it is currently surrendering to irrelevance. Meanwhile, the Infante Don Henrique coastal avenue, which connects the center of Lisbon with the Park of Nations, with all its abandoned port warehouses, has undergone a recovery process driven by many (perhaps too many) foreign investors. To such an extent that the Marvila district, with its restaurants and design shops,

coworkings and circuit of

cool

art galleries

, is considered the new Soho.

At dawn, when all those places close,

nightlife subversion wins.

Arroz Estúdios, a cultural association located in a hangar that offers spaces for creators and different musical activities, organizes DJ sessions. But the nightclub that is energizing the area is Outra Cena. It is managed by Frenchman Kevin Guieu, former artistic director of the Lisbon branch of the Parisian venue Le Baron. Located in a gigantic wine warehouse more than a century old recovered by an investment group, Outra Cena (another scene) responds to what one might expect from a Berlin club like the Berghain. Only here they don't terrify you at the door. They just demand a respectful and open attitude, and you're in. Before, the doorman gives instructions: no photos (they put a sticker on the lens of the cell phone), if you leave you pay again (12 euros), you can donate at the cashier for the trans community and if you have problems, notify someone from security. Graffitied in pink next to its entrance, a motto:

Deus é travesty

(God is a transvestite).

Once upstairs, there are three different environments: a bar serves as a prelude to two twin low-ceiling dance rooms, almost completely dark and with a permanent fog of dry ice crossed by laser points, where the DJ plays techno. unforgiving inside a cage. In the unisex bathrooms, the mirror proclaims a message in lipstick: “You look great, fuck the selfie.” In the middle of everything, a U-shaped main room full of

vintage

armchairs from which you can look out into the silence and darkness of the vast industrial warehouse that houses the club, crossed by a balustrade and some drawn curtains. Leaning on it, contemplating that immense void, Kevin Guieu explains the philosophy of the establishment. “We replicate what we understand as the ideal of a party: dance halls are for dancing; and this main gallery, to rest, have a drink, smoke and chat quietly with people.” All employees are racialized and/or trans. “The idea of ​​'safe space' should be overtaken in the night but, unfortunately, it is still a flag we must fly.” Several signs announce from the entrance that any disrespectful or discriminatory gesture is worth leaving on the street.

This same philosophy prevails at Planeta Manas, a club that goes one step further, both in its physical location (in Prior Velho, next to the airport) and in its temperament. The philosophy of Berlin's Berghain is applied here in its entirety, with people dedicated to the chemistry of bodies. As Marcos Silva, a programmer at ZDB and a regular at his parties, explains, “it is the complete opposite of the Lux in terms of openness. You can find all kinds of illicit or carnal activities in any corner of this labyrinthine warehouse, but always with maximum tolerance and general relaxation. It's strange that no one here censors you. Also finding someone straight white.” Its racialized and queer parties, like those hosted by Dengo Club in different locations, have become the definitive bastion of resistance to understand where the

Lisbon

underground

is moving. Starting at six in the morning, the

after party

moves a step away from here, to the Nada club. But we leave the sunrises to others.