...Would be what my friend Carly would have said after experiencing what I have tonight. Apparently she has resolved that it takes a repetition of three times to accurately capture the meaning of a word in it's most sincere form.
Tonight, I attended a concert of the world famous Mozambiquan, Portuguese raised Fado singer, Mariza. I had first discovered this genre of music after being touched by having first seen live flamenco performed. Then, about a year ago while in Lisbon, I went to kill time in a music store and found myself almost in tears listening to a song by this woman on a pair of headphones in the shop.
I have never had the opportunity to witness a true vocalist before, and I must say, this woman must be right up there with the best. Her phrasing illuminating the meaning of the songs, doing her best to relate this oral tradition to a very Anglo audience. She was playful, mezmorizing, sexy, and heart warming all at the same time.
I was maintaining my composure, considering that Iberian music of this sort tends to bring me to my knees. That is, until, the encore. She came back out onto the stage after the stomping and cheering of the crowd. She said that since touring through The States and the UK, she had been asked if she could sing Fado in English. This, of course, is insane. It would be like asking an African tribal dancer to translate their work into a ballet. She apologized but said that in considering it, she had found an English language song that she believed held all the same roots, meaning, and sentimentality as Fado, and if Fado had been in English, she would imagine it to be somewhat like this song.
She began to sing, and the words that came out are as follows...."Summertime, and the livin' is easy..."
Just as some background information. My mother, original that she is, sang this song to me as a childhood lullaby, vamping it up in all the right places. We are a family of soul. What can I say?
Needless to say, sitting next to my mother in this concert, I seized her hand and proceeded to bawl like a baby. All I can say is, it is a good thing I was not sitting next to a stranger, a date, or even a relatively new friend. I would have either A) made them run for the hills, or B) drowned them in my tears.
After the concert, I discovered that Mariza was going to be signing some of her albums. I bought the one I do not already own, and was first in line when she sat down. After exchanging some words with her in both French and my broken Portuguese, and telling her how wonderful the show was. I told her, "My mother is South African...". This, unexpectedly, got the biggest response. I proceeded to tell her that this rendition of my childhood memory, long gone unheard, was the most beautiful I have heard (save for my mother's own, of course), and had us both truly touched, and unabashedly and involuntarily weeping. She touched my hands and said, "Give her the biggest kiss!!".
And so I did.
Muito obrigada
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