Home - Artistes - News - Tours - Enquiries
| Lura | |
||
|
"Lura was dynamite: with a voice that modulated from a dreamy whisper to a ferocious shout, and with an act that was first comic, then sexually provocative, then rabble-rousing, she turned the Purcell Room into a stadium. When her international career gets going, this girl will fill stadiums." – Michael Church, reviewing her London debut for The Independent
MAY TOUR 2007 18 May Kendall |
Biography Just as Mariza has breathed new life into Fado; a contemporary heir to Amalia Rodrigues, so Lura does to music made famous by Cesaria Evora. Lura brings a street wise, urban sensuality infused with the passionate root of mother Africa to her music. Riding on the tide Cape Verde's rediscovery of its African roots, she has the star quality to bring the music to a wider audience. Lura mixes the familiar morna style with until now unheard rhythms of Funana and batuque; styles brought to the fore by a talented new generation of composers such Tcheka and Pantera. It is the music of women from the remote African interior of Cape Verde, now infused with jazz and Brazilian influences. Lura is part of a new generation of musicians rediscovering the hidden traditions of her ancestral homeland. Her music is inspired by the styles of Santiago – the most African of the islands, and the island from which her father came; styles such as batuku and funana. The African musical traditions of Cape Verde are still emerging now because the nation only gained independence in 1975, and prior to that the Church and the colonial government prohibited certain forms. The accordion-driven funana – which Lura performs – was considered too erotic. Originally a dozen or more women would beat the batuku rhythm on folded stacks of clothes (called tchabeta) held by their knees, while a lead singer improvised poetry lampooning or critiquing community happenings. A very sensual dance called torno accompanied the song form. “The women in Cape Verde spend a lot of time together, working and talking and that is how batuku started; from the women of Santiago,” Lura says. “Now I and others are making a kind of batuku, but singing alone, not in a group. I'm a little representation of batuku from Cape Verde.” Orlando Pantera, a young man who died in 2001, and who never released a studio album himself, wrote five of the CD's batuku-style songs. “When I first heard his music, I fell in love,” Lura exclaims. “He expresses daily life of the Cape Verde people in a very unique way. His music and his words are very strong, and very Cape Verdean. I fell in love with him, but I never met him. When I found out he died, I felt this is something I can do for him. So his music lives on.” Lura's songs reflect songs reflect the concerns of this far flung nation. “In the poems and lyrics of Cape Verde, we speak a lot about immigration,” explains Lura. “A lot of people move away to make a better living. We talk a lot about rain because there is so little rain. And we talk about food, because sometimes it is very difficult to get food. A lot of things you have to buy from outside; from Portugal, the U.S., Holland. And we talk about the relationship between parents and their children, because so many families are far apart. But the words talk about immigration in a symbolic way.” “So Um Cartinha” is a song about letters, which are very symbolic in Cape Verde. The song pokes fun at a Cape Verdean custom of asking friends who are visiting Lisbon to take back “a little letter”, then presenting them with a fully packed trunk. “At the airport check in line, you can always tell who is going to Cape Verde, because they have the most luggage,” says Lura. “You have to bring a lot of souvenirs to everybody. ‘Oh Náia' is a funny song about bringing something for everybody but your best friend, who gets mad at you. I am singing that I ran out of money. I did not even have enough money to pay the excise tax!” |
|
|
Email us: info@wawagency.com