Príncipe

Picking up where "Máquina de Vénus" (Blacksea Não Maya) left off, this is now near 100% DJ Kolt at the controls. Slow, grinding power tools working their way across the complex web of ideas the producer lays down. Truly a next level thing, taking elements from recognized styles such as tarraxo, EDM, even trap, bending their accepted signifiers to suit his own creative mind instead of the crowd pleasing monster that constantly haunts Dance Music. Here we find a wonderful, twisted approach to the dancefloor, one heavy on brain activity, fantastically moody, showcasing music that we long ago quit trying to define.

"Despertar" (again) changes the game, adding secret doors and pathways previously unheard and unthought of. This right here is the mark of a unique producer. You'll have a hard time trying to compare Kolt with any other artist on Príncipe, much less on the outside world. A keen sense of groove filters through all tracks, the dance is never forgotten but you know there are certain demands - you can't just expect a straight line to "a good night out", there's an effort required, you'll have to reach out as well so you can let loose and connect with the universal Master Plan.

The album is all made up of liquid transitions as much as rock-hard foundations, perfectly capable of being explicit when honouring the roots but so committed to a new stance that one may feel thrown off balance by the sheer genius of the compositions. High art with a deep low end. 

Dancefloor fire bombs from Kolt, a DJ and producer thus far mostly operating under the crew name Blacksea Não Maya (with Perigoso and Noronha). This is his first Retirement record. No quotation marks here, Kolt is actually stepping down from a fruitful decade-long career as DJ and producer. Fat, techno-ish, idiosyncratic big room afro mind melt sounding like no other hyped or non-hyped dance cuts out there. Futuristic and decidedly non-European in structure, this set of 4 tracks carries a more synthetic DNA than previous material, if we exclude his quasi-gothic slow burners in BNM's "Máquina de Vénus" LP. But in "Verdadeiro" Kolt is all virtual open arms and bare chest, appearing to satirize this idea of the megastar DJ. But what comes across is distinctive and alive (consequently deadly on the club sound system), wiping out the floor of any zombie-preset-DJ vibes. Take "Bateste" as an example: an evil bassline, wtf beeps, a vocal snippet prodding the dancers and a final blissful 30 seconds to ease you out. "Shaman" is the final track, its title just maybe nailing the atmosphere felt by people on the dancefloor. Shamelessly epic and in your face, a simulation of a throwback to a more clichéd clubland but just so left of centre that one can't find a complete correlation to fit the picture. Yes, we all go OMG.

Matter-of-factly, Lycox exclaims "Yaaahh" right at the beginning. That's an affirmation but in times of distress it can also mean resignation, something like "Yeah, whatever". Lycox says he was only freestyling though. Then the bassline appears. Elastic, expressive, full-bodied. And it's not even present the whole time. He was "trying to develop a new formula for the Kuduro beat."

Songs for the club? Most certainly. Different sensibilities, one same focused mind. Lycox evolves within tradition, he has mastered the groove, the ambience, the right tones. Simply called "Energia", the last track circles above wistfully, menacing but maybe just promising some sort of action. With a few drops one could almost switch over to a parallel universe of old school Trance, a reference that feels as alien here as maybe this track feels to someone for whom the standard Afro House sound represents modern African music.

These songs pile up in a threshold balanced between styles, sensations, maybe in the middle of life itself. Such a concentration of energy is bound to need release and that comes figuratively through details in the music reaching out to receptive ears. "To Bem Loko" explicitly tries to "literally drive everyone crazy on the dancefloor." Once again Lycox provides vocals, as in "Edson no Uige", about a friend who embarked on a trip to the Angolan province of Uige and came back speaking only the local dialect known as lingala. A nod to tradition, very emotional, without compromising complex arrangements. Consequently, we the listeners are kept believing there is still enough space for a bright future. To ears accustomed to Lycox productions the title "Contemporaneo" (opening of side B) reads like a redundancy, then.

Maybe this music can never be quite as massive as other Afro styles. Without sounding pretentious, it avoids simplistic patterns, it demands a bit more mental processing while it certainly aims to loosen the limbs. Universal in vocation, underground at the core, Lycox definitely calls it Batida but for some it is still Ghetto Music. Like DJ Veiga said when describing a previous release for Príncipe, Ghetto is home, though. Lycox adds it is a foundation of personality. "Few in our community will recognize your work when you come from the same environment, but once you establish your reputation outside of the neighbourhood and even outside of the country, people will look at you differently, as if you were a star." 

Feels as if we're stepping outside the known universe of Nigga Fox but simultaneously being invited in. It's not about being hermetic, shutting out followers of his trademark dance beats or making an experimental statement per se. All this music comes effortlessly during sessions such as any other, so don't throw away valuable time searching for a concept. "Chá Preto" sounds revolutionary but not so much in his discography, accustomed as we are to game-changing compositional solutions in the afro musical continuum but - never forget - also in Dance Music taken as a broad genre. But is it Dance? Certainly a fair amount of suffering and introspection comes clear throughout the album, namely in the sequence made up of "Má Rotina" and "Mutadoree Leonor". "Mutadoree" is a free, alternative spelling of "much pain" and each listener can process the info as s(h)e pleases. The music is also strikingly beautiful, so there's really no final word on this. Beats come sparse, a very personal phraseology, the dancefloor a memory. Or just something to keep in mind for a future night out. Presently there's no lack of adventure or excitement in these grooves, a uniquely themed one-person show of musical skills and bare emotion. It ends in a snap, not a trace of embellishment. Pragmatic and out of the loop. Rewind and feel it all over again. Any comparison in mind? Flip through History books and you won't find this chapter.

Rhythm fiends, your time! Lisbon’s DJ Nigga Fox swangs it wide, precise and deadly on his first new tunes since 2019’s outstanding ‘Cartas Na Magna’ LP and a killer live tape in ’21 Deploying four immediately upfront, naturally experimental workouts, ‘Música Da Terra’ marks just over 10 years since DJ Nigga Fox came to our attention on the ‘African Digital Dance’ compilation, and solidly affirms his role as the leader of Lisbon’s new school. Balancing a cosmic jazzy depth akin to Jamal Moss or Ron Trent’s deep house with more urgent, syncopated ghetto grooves, his music is the pinnacle of contemporary Kuduro, if you ask us. The lad’s catalogue practically charts the sound’s development from grimy and hardcore to more sensual, textured and rhythmelodically psychedelic in a way that places him like Kuduro’s answer to Dego or A Guy Called Gerald, and especially on this EP. Including an instant standout jam with fellow Príncipe don DJ Firmeza in the muscular bass churn, bolshy brass and groggy pads of ‘Sanzaleiro’, Nigga Fox absolutely bosses it on his three solo works. There’s the adrenalizing scorcher ‘Madeso’ at the front, with its shards of marching horns sliced up into swingeing heads-down swagger, but also laid with a mental breakdown, while ‘Gás Natural’ cools off for a hot minute with its exquisite, chill breeze melody and in-the-pocket log drums leading somewhere deliciously darker, and ‘Sasuke’ simply slays with jaw-dropping twist of cosmic acid broken beat soul, lathering hazy organs, 303 and nimblest drums into the tightest, inimitable step. Oh my days this is fucking strong. TIP!

This was it. This IS it. A true Big Bang for the scene as we know it today, materia prima out of which Príncipe came to be. "Vol. 1" was originally dropped in September of 2006 (first day of school) by Marfox, N.K., Jesse, Pausas, Fofuxo and Nervoso, then collectively known as DJs Di Guetto. With maximum respect for Nervoso's previous (and fiery) path, this was the next level, introducing a new generation capable of improving upon standards and in turn inspiring a still younger generation famously represented by Piquenos DJs Do Guetto: Firmeza, Lilocox and Maboku. The original compilation included 37 tracks, but we feel this selection of 13 perfectly captures spirit, sound and fierceness, a leap forward from straight kuduro and other crystallized styles that fed neighbourhood parties. Testing ground as well as tested ground, sureshot killers. Direct transport to the outskirts of Lisbon and the afro-portuguese experience with a sense of purpose, a mission if you will, the certainty of being part of a highly regarded heritage, the vision of fresh forms and details to continue carrying the torch, a futuristic and real transcendence of life conditions and limitations. Raw, uncompromising, respectful, true positive expression that branched out in all the beautiful ways we were blessed to be exposed to and later helped develop. Africa redesigned, repurposed in the bedroom and for the street, seeking to impress peers and make people happy in the dance. Not always understood and even marginalised within the more conservative-minded strands of the African music scene, this "guetto" style quickly became associated with trouble, even causing Nervoso (a few years older than the bunch) to suspend his DJ activities. There was a sense of danger in these grooves but maybe also of a type of freedom that was not merely artistic, a representation of the less glamorous aspects of the community. With the crew's permission we reissued "Vol. 1" 10 years ago as a free download package. Now presented in its compact version, it reappears with its power of expression intact, a beacon indicating the future, never a museum piece, prefiguring all the forthcoming new music and new artists to be undisclosed as our catalogue expands. A quick but fundamental touch-base.

Nídia's third full-length is a future-facing suite of mutant Afro-Portuguese rhythms and wormy melodies rooted in Guinea-Bissau's anti-colonial history. Like everything we’ve heard from Nídia, it’s an effortless but deadly amalgamation of peak-time curveballs and gloriously catchy hooks - essential for anyone into DJ Danifox, Nazar, DJ Lycox, Matias Aguayo. '95 MINDJERES' ("95 women" in crioulo) is Nídia's most charged and unforgettable album yet, taking its cues from the women freedom fighters - like Titina Silá and Teodora Gomes - who helped bring Guinea-Bissau to independence from Portuguese colonial rule in the 1960s and '70s. Nídia braids lilting, West African rhythms into multicoloured electronic prangs, sharpened to a knifepoint that cuts straight thru the heart. She asks "it's like?" on opener 'É COMO?', goading us into a search for comparisons. The truth is she's completely out on her own, screwing with the form as she waltzes with familiar elements - hand drums, woodblocks, neon stabs, vibey hooks. On 'Caiomhe' she pushes resonant, clattering percussion into focus, before embracing a warehouse groove on 'To La', shattering its darkness with wafting guitar licks and zig-zagging shakers. She displays a deep knowledge of Euro-washed club forms and pierces them with conspicuous emotion: joy, melancholy and indignation. There are traces of Detroit's sci-fi-minded futurism left in the DNA of 'Sukuku', with its rolling synths and euphoric pads, but Nídia shuttles into a different zone, chopping the rhythm and never dragging things out for longer than needed. We can hear echoes of Innerzone Orchestra's epochal 'Bug in the Bass Bin', split with Afro-Portuguese rhythms instead of jazz, the result fully transcendent. We're treated to a rare DJ tool with 'cp', and Nídia's club skills are fully on show on ‘Pose’ too, where she refracts the House blueprints of Lil Louis into a martial, horny banger. On 'Mindjeres', she uses invigorating flute and mbira-like chimes to suggest a more downcast mood, before dialling serrated FM synths into tremulous thuds on 'abcd'. And to close, Nídia deploys her most widescreen cut to date - ‘Paradise' - a slow-paced epic that opens with a wash of Art of Noise-style pads and builds to a low warble with trapdoor kicks and pointillistic stabs. Tense but deliriously heady, it's the perfect finale to an album that's immensely uplifting, energising and unforgettable. Príncipe’s best in class.

Long playing second release by the ever busy RS Produções, showcasing an update of the crew's particularly moody dance beats. Their debut "Bagdad Style" featured only the main core of Narciso and Nuno Beats but RS is expanded with Farucox for this album, adding more oblique ryhthms to the whole. The crew seems to be happy the bleakest and most stressful days of COVID are past them, celebrating the fact with a self-evident title and the opening prayer by Narciso, redirecting God's blessings to the whole family of RS DJs and producers. What we experience on the 13 tracks (including interludes) is a burst of energy. If not exactly extroverted, it communicates a commitment to the purest strain of batida and, for those able to detect hidden feelings, this music might convey some melancholic undertones true to this part of the world. Beats and off-beats invite your most abstract dance moves and even the album´s most melodic piece is "headless" (Farucox's spacey afro house "Sem Cabeça"). The slow moving tarraxos are uncompromising but never emotionally detached. "Bolor" by Narciso might be the most demanding moment here, with so many crashing elements that, when reviewing the listening experience, we feel a direct connection to a very unique underground expression of dance music. A good part of its power resides in the dislocation of our senses to a different tuning and the consequent opening up of possibilities. This means access to different territories, vibes and points of view. The idealized way of the world.

Príncipe zoom out from dancefloor immediacy to dreamiest zones with XEXA's outstanding debut of world-building wanderlust, oscillating between bloozy ambient intimacy to lilting rhythmelodies and widescreen modern classical tipped if yr into Vox Populi, Emeka Ogboh, Laurel Halo, Rafael Toral, Arthur Russell, and David Toop. A reminder to never second guess Lisbon’s brilliant Príncipe, ‘Vibrações de Prata’ (’Silver Vibrations’) showcases the sparkling imagination of new signee XEXA. Her striking debut began life as part of her studies at Guildhall School of Music and Drama, London, where she developed a compositional style of organic electro-acoustics woven into impressionistic storytelling, deploying original instrumental performance and nuanced sound design at the service of immersive, poetic aural environments.