We’d heard a lot about Fado and were excited to accept Luiz and Simao’s offer to take us. Though Fado nowadays is performed usually for travellers, they knew of a place that was frequented more by neighbors, called Fermentation. They themselves had not been to Fado in several years so it took some roaming thru the twisty alleys of the old part of Lisbon before we found it. But found it we probably did, and sat down to enjoy the show.

Seating on a slant at Fermentation restaurant

Fado is a normal style of Portuguese music thought to have come from the 1820′s presumably from a mix of African slave rhythms and normal music of Portuguese sailors and Arabic influence. It is indicated by gloomy, mournful tunes, regularly about trouble and / or the ocean. A Portuguese word frequently related to Fado is saudade, which translates approximately to aching or nostalgia for unrealized dreams. So at the end, Fado has a tendency to be a bit harrowing. There’s some love thrown in there, too, but things generally appear to go screwy again by the end of the track.

There are 2 main styles of Fado (Lisbon style and Coimbra, or student style), and there’s, naturally, a good amount of variety in the styles.

One of the vocalists

Fermentation is a family managed cafe with a down-home feel; it overflows with genuineness. Our table is outside in a cobblestone area that is a component of the street in the day, but commandeered by diners / listeners at night. Not being a proper patio, the entire set-up is on a big slant (like much of Lisbon, come to consider it), so frequently we have had to catch our food as it tried to roll off the fringe of our table. Keeping our chairs upright is also a little bit of a challenge. The vocalists (who are the same folk that take your order and cook your food) perform at the entrance of the eaterie, leaning seriously against the door frame.

Over the course of the evening, we heard from at least 3 generations, all of whom had glaringly experienced great anguish (if the singing was anything to judge by). It was clear from watching the youngest vocalist (perhaps eight or nine years of age) that their music style and custom of singing Fado is passed down from generation to generation. It could be contended that their technical skill wasn’t high quality, but they put their souls into it and, although we could not understand a word, the performances brought back a powerful unhappiness in us (and much applause from the local audience, who once in a while would be so moved as to take part).

We actually enjoyed our Fado experience and we are satisfied we had the advantage of seeing the real-deal version. So if you are down and out and without hope, go hear some Fado and either you may understand that your present position isn’t as bad as the lead in the tune or you may actually sink down into the depths of despair.