Vinyl 12″ / Digital
Written and produced by DJ Narciso & Nuno Beats;
Mastered by Tó Pinheiro da Silva, Artwork by Márcio Matos;
Released September, 2018;

VINYL/DIGITAL: Order from us

A1 – Caipirinha
A2 – Constipação Do Poco
A3 – Guerreiro
A4 – Lingrinhas
B1 – Atrevimento
B2 – Futuro
B3 – Abertura
B4 – Hino RS


RS (Rinchoa Stress) began in 2014 as a group of close friends, even before they started producing. The warm shout-outs in closing anthem “Hino RS” reveal the affection they feel for each other, just after the main melodic hook gets going. Things got serious in 2016 when Narciso, then 17, decided to take production seriously and relaunched RS as a proper crew with DJs (himself, Nuno, Nulo and Lima), producers (himself, Nuno and Farucox) and MC (Pimenta).

Out of “Bagdad” (Rinchoa, Rio de Mouro), in under 2 years, RS made a name for themselves with tight, across the board grooves, working melody and metal beats with equal proficiency. “Caipirinha” and “Constipação Do Poco” adopt a more muscular batida architecture and rave on with proper metallic cargaa; “Guerreiro” brings out a brilliant, dissonant main motive, defying some rules of melody and timbre; a string of semi-tarraxos follows: “Lingrinhas” and “Atrevimento” insist on the “wrong” side of melody in less than 2 minutes each and, at 2:04, “Futuro” slows down even more in a reflective mood while all around everything appears to be falling apart (listen closely to the explosions in the distance); on to the longer stretch of “Abertura”, a house number where every element seems to follow its own independent course, carefully placed in a separate track, all moving in the same direction. Narciso and Nuno layed down all compositions here, teaming up as the core producers of RS, growing up post DJs Di Guetto (2006 – see our timeline elsewhere on the web) and into the crew’s now regular gigs at Príncipe’s monthly residency (@Musicbox, Lisbon).

Vinyl 12″; individually hand-painted, hand-stamped copies available for the world.



Vinyl LP / CD / Digital
Written and produced by Niagara;
Mastered by Tó Pinheiro da Silva, Artwork by Márcio Matos;
Released September, 2018;

VINYL/DIGITAL: Order from us

A1 – França
A2 – 6:30
A3 – Momento Braga
A4 – 40
B1 – Senhora Do Cabo
B2 – 2042
B3 – Damasco
B4 – Siena
B5 – Graffiti
CD – Via Garibaldi (CD bonus track)
CD – Matriz (CD bonus track)
CD – Cabo Verde (CD bonus track)
CD – O Astro (CD bonus track)


The Donald Duck voice during “França” seems to be adapting to this new world of Niagara. But once you go through the portal, it’s all sunshine and ocean surf.

“Apologia” is the first full-length by the trio of Alberto, António and Sara, expanding their organic machine music into hazy, fresh territories. Most tracks in here are concise, around the 3-minute mark, and they appear to us as openings to a fertile underground stream, ever moving. We are shown glimpses of some other world that simultaneously looks ancient and a patchwork of today’s moods of exotica. Throw in some sparse synth work reminiscent of Blade Runner ‘s skyline and you can hardly tell if this sounds like the future or some distant past.

Longer tracks “6:30” and “Siena” help you settle along this pan-tastic journey, acting as centerpieces to the album. “Siena” displays the loveliest flute vibes and gentle synthetic stabs adding to the groove. Fourth World PLUS.

Vinyl LP; individually hand-painted, hand-stamped copies available for the world.


Unique psychedelic killers from Niagara, mounting a sterling debut album with Lisbon’s Príncipe five years after their first 12”, ‘Ouro Oeste’ [2013]. Trust that they have lost none of the weirdness that’s endeared them to freaks around the world ever since they emerged. If anything they’re stranger, more spaced-out and porous to wild influence…

Outlining Niagara’s definitive description of contemporary exotica, ‘Apologia’ limns a frayed, buzzing sort of “Fourth World PLUS” sound, where the “PLUS” refers to their embrace of noise as an agent of chaos. But it’s not necessarily malefic chaos, and should be taken as a smart acknowledgement of the overlooked yet crucial role that roughness of grain and construction play in contrast with so many clinically smooth and even anodyne efforts from the same, imagined arena of worldly music for a new age.

In allowing for the entropy of time and the inevitable infidelity of attrition to enter their soundsphere, Niagara’s organic machine music keenly reflects a natural world order without the need for algorithmic process. Their world is a fertile interplay of acoustic and electronic sources rendering hazy, fata morgana-like glimpses of musical possibility, practically triangulating the visions of likeminds such as Jamal Moss/Hieroglyphic Being and Dolo Percussion with the explorative precedents of Portugul’s Telectu to realise a fine expression of anachronistic modernism.

Most of the tracks loosely work around 3 minute timeframes, lending a zig-zagging mosaic quality to the tracklist in between its longer parts. Richly colourful spiritual jazz arps and raw machine grooves spring from opener ‘França’, triggering a cascade of ideas that bends between acidic kosmiche in ‘6:30’ to the heatsick boogie gliss of ’40’ and the stark emptiness of ‘Senhora Do Cabo’, to give up the gorgeous, extended flute and acid meditation ’Siena’, and mess with Vangelis-style synth majesty on ‘Via Garibaldi’, before spending their coolest energies in the drowsy Afro-latin swagger of ‘Cabo Verde.’

It’s hard to ignore the fact that Alberto, António and Sara a.k.a. Niagara have distilled their sound to imperfection on ‘Apologia’, resulting one of 2018’s most crucial and vital electronic albums.
Boomkat, September 2018

Portuguese psychedelic house trio Niagara release their killer debut (vinyl) album via Lisbon institution Príncipe, following a string of inventive 12″s, mostly released through their own Ascender label. ‘Apologia’ features a series of really fresh and unique electronic designs, comprising “ethnographic recordings, distant shortwave signals, and idiosyncratic synths” as journalist Philip Sherburne writes. This is really its own little dream world, full of new flavors and an almost childlike kind of openness. It’s really such a solution for tired ears, one of the best albums we’ve heard all year, and an absolute must if you’re into 40% Foda/Maneirissimo, Nuno Cannavaro, Mystic Jungle Tribe….
Amoeba Music, September 2018

Over the past seven years, Lisbon label Príncipe has become closely aligned with the dynamic style known as batida, a homegrown hybrid of Afro-Lusophone diasporic sounds like kuduro, tarraxinha, and kizomba. A little like Chicago footwork, it has gained a global foothold despite marginalized origins, turning producers like DJ Marfox, Nídia, and DJ Nigga Fox into artists of worldwide renown. But Príncipe’s remit extends beyond batida: The label’s second release, issued the same year as DJ Marfox’s debut, came from Photonz, a techno producer with a soft spot for early-’90s trance. The Portuguese electronic trio Niagara soon stepped up with five tracks of wonky, lo-fi house music steeped in Italo disco.

Niagara put out another EP, Ímpar, in 2015—virtually the only non-batida release to appear on Príncipe in the years after the their label debut—and now they are back with their first full-length album. But something has changed in the past three years. Where the toe-scuffing Ímpar tipped its hat to Metro Area and DFA, Apologia finds them building out their own soundworld, one that has less to do with established categories than chasing hard-to-define moods.

As is the case with a lot of questing, imaginative electronic music from recent years—Jan Jelinek, Andrew Pekler, Visible Cloaks—it’s not always easy to tell if this stuff is old or new, or even its hemisphere of origin. Zigzagging synth arpeggios drizzle over rudimentary drum-machine grooves, and conga taps arrive with the slow, steady drip of a leaky faucet; out-of-phase patterns circle each other like a dog chasing its own tail. It’s rickety but beautiful, janky keyboards and intercepted radio signals shot through with stumbling thumb piano and graceful synth pads. With instrumentation heavy on hand percussion, harp-like glissandi, and other new-age trappings, a tropical vibe prevails.

Despite the relatively high humidity, Niagara don’t seem interested in standard-issue chillout. Unease lurks below the surface of their blissfully lopsided machine jams. In the opening “França,” a manic, distorted voice—like Donald Duck on a bender—cuts against placid chimes and rippling ride cymbals. On “6:30,” mismatched synth loops and a dully repetitive groove spin in wobbly circles, while pastel chords flare up in the background, cartoonish and wistful.

Niagara find a certain strength in withholding. Many tracks feel like they could kick off at any moment; throw in a heavy bass drum, and you could confuse them for nightclub barnstormers. But the trio seems to realize that to lean too hard on the drums would be to overwhelm the music’s intricate architecture of interconnected loops. Take “Momento Braga,” in which screen-door squeak, pinball ping, R2-D2 chirps, and earthy marimba weave together seamlessly and glisten in midair, like a spiderweb. An echoing voice bobs at the center of it all, something caught within the song’s sticky matrix.

The most captivating material verges upon pure ambient. That goes for the beat-less “Senhora do Cabo,” just two synth chords drifting above vaporous tones, and the pulse-heavy “Damasco,” where a lilting synth lead trips over leathery congas. It has rhythm but no real forward motion, spinning in place like a mobile. “Via Garibaldi,” a bonus cut not included on the vinyl edition, pairs the tape-delayed synths of Aphex Twin’s Selected Ambient Works Vol. II with a ring-modulated voice that sounds like a garbled radio transmission snagged straight from space. (There are four such bonus tracks, and they are among the best here; choose your format wisely.) “O Astro,” another bonus, might be a field recording played back on a malfunctioning reel-to-reel deck.

Niagara’s resourcefulness suggests a castaway’s ingenuity, using unconventional techniques to unlock new territories. Cobbled together out of ethnographic recordings, distant shortwave signals, and idiosyncratic synths, Apologia sets its sights on an elusive state of transcendence. Consider it an escape vehicle to spirit listeners away from the failures of what more efficient, more expensive methods of music-making have wrought.
Pitchfork, September 2018

Since 2013, Niagara has left behind a string of EPs and CDRs mostly through Lisbon-based label Príncipe and their own Ascender imprint. Hardware-only, the trio huddles over card tables and tweaks skeletal parts out of synths and drum machines, feeding them through pedals, mixers and filters. Their music lives off the rickety bpm negotiation of multiple machines set off by hand and overlapping, reverberating electronic tones. Like a botched house band, they’ve developed a dry dance music, kraut-inspired and wiry, that’s both infectious and rich. Príncipe, known for their embrace of the batida sound with a steady stream of unsteady tempos and jilted rhythms, is an oddly fitting as a stable for the group. It’s hard to imagine another label that could welcome Niagara’s aqueous, earthy sound.

Each of Niagara’s releases, though not exactly spick and span, etches out the trio’s naturally bumbling, staggered rhythms just a little bit further. Apologia, their debut full-length and biggest release to date, is marked by a subdued approach to their notably live feel. Highly repetitious, the grooves are present throughout but they are even-keeled and dwell in the mid-range, less demanding than the slightly bass-centric, four-to-the-floor structures the group has dabbled with before. Instead of bass hits planted on the beat, an arpeggiated synth, a tapped rhythm on a ride cymbal or an intricate marimba rhythm is repeated to establish a tempo.

Between the scraped-up vocal samples, loose hand drums, canopies of sparse electronics and the propensity to repeat phrases, Fourth World jargon is certainly in play. The rhythms, though, are at the fore, not the tonal matter, pulling away from purely landscape-inducing imagery and providing too many roots to fix on; the flotsam and jetsam phrases float, but they are pulled along by a gravity, centered around something bigger. A highlight is “Siena,” which nearly doubles the average song length on the album. Calm flutes and earthy timbres are kept in tow by a three-note synth line, filtered to have a slight serration. With ambiguously natural textures, unraveling rhythms, and meandering melodies, a less overt cohesion is developed through timbres’ overlapping qualities and the instruments’ slight cognizance of each other. “Fourth World Plus” is the term Príncipe uses to frame the album, and if nothing else, it is a true remark on the band’s sense of departure from past recordings.

Falling outside the maelstrom of music production transfixed on album cuts, the group’s recordings have typically acted as documents reflecting where the trio is at that moment. And while Apologia is a continuation of their sound, it’s also the group’s most cohesive set to date. They’ve made something undeniably imprinted with their voice and their humbled boogie shines in a new light.
Dusted Magazine, October 2018

As a full band, Niagara already distinguishes itself from their labelmates. A collaborative process, the trio builds psychedelic arrangements from crystalline synth arpeggios and rigid MIDI melodies. Tracks such as ‘França’ and ‘6:30’ have a decidedly analog sound with out-of-sync loops cycling through a wilderness of squelches, distorted vocals, and glissando harp strums. The serene ‘Senhora Do Cabo’ drifts through the same ruins where Richard D. James crafted his SAW series with sub-arctic synth pads and an ocean of reverb. While Principé’s more dance-music focussed releases use percussion to enforce an animated and rickety foundation of rhythm, Niagara employs congas and marimbas in a manner more in-line with a wind-chime; sparse, accidental, and melodic. As a result, the album is simultaneously painstakingly refined and feral, using traditional instrumentation but filtered through plasticky audio workstations of a Fairlight synthesizer.

In summary, and as a last-ditch attempt to bypass all the music-nerd jargon above, Niagara’s Apologia is the sound of Steve Reich tossing Dino Dino Jungle into a blender and washing it down with some cough syrup. I’m into it.
Boston Hassle, October 2018


Vinyl 12″ / Digital
Written and produced by DJ Lilocox;
Mastered by Tó Pinheiro da Silva, Artwork by Márcio Matos;
Released May, 2018;

VINYL/DIGITAL: Order from us

A1 – Vozes Ricas
A2 – Ritmo & Melodias
B1 – Paz & Amor
B2 – Samba
B3 – Fronteiras


The sprawling ambience we hear throughout “Paz & Amor” unveils the present stage of the fascinating aesthetic progression Lilocox has been sharing with the world ever since this Eurochild of Cape Verdean descent started to produce his original music. Lilocox comes out in open field, with a lot more space, building the groove around complex rhythm grids now unfolding peacefully. He scored a bouncier underground hit with “La Party” back in 2015, coming from a background of intricate batida drum patterns but his sights reached further and further away into deeper territory.

“Ritmos E Melodias” seems to split into two parallel tracks at some point with the house beat balanced by a background rattle more commonly associated with the slower tarraxo vibes. “Samba” is fully-formed from the very beginning but the kick only comes in around the 2-minute mark, joining a bleepy substitute for a bassline. In fact, you will find this music practically does away with the need for a bassline because the rhythm inventions keep the feet moving effortlessly. It might seem strange that a genre seemingly rooted in classic house can stay focused on the dancefloor without a bassline, but the skeleton of these tracks is naturally strong and provides all the necessary ground for ambience and melody to shine.

And they do shine universally on “Fronteiras”, an intensely emotional and catchy tune WITH a bassline, though very discrete and minimal. It follows the beat more or less independently, but its presence helps to consolidate the human bond we should all feel when exposed to these celestial harmonies. “Fronteiras” seems to contradict its very title.

Vinyl 12″; individually hand-painted, hand-stamped copies available for the world.


Paz E Amor, or “peace and love”, is the solo début of deep, hypnotic Batida grooves by DJ Lilocox. A longtime core member of Lisbon’s Príncipe label, Lilocox is one third of the PDDG (Piquenos DJs Do Guetto) crew beside DJs Firmeza and Maboku, and accounts for half of CDM (Casa Da Mãe), also with Maboku. In solo mode Lilocox alloys sensuous atmospheres with rolling percussion in a widely appealing style that resonates with the slickness of the Sonhos & Pesadelos LP by his near namesake, DJ Lycox, but personalised by more spacious production values and a rugged vision of dancefloor romance and energy.
With the CDM project on hold for now, DJ Lilocox presents a more mature sound now characterised by his focus on rhythmelodic cadence and synthetic sensuality. Between the EP’s lusting highlight in the Ron Trent-esque Afrohouse of Fronteiras, to the starker, Gqom-Like tension of Ritmo e Melodias, Lilocox plays to the ‘floor’s timeless needs in a ruggedly forward manner, deftly shifting his weight from a pendulous footing of Vozes Ricas to the woodblock knocks and drones of Paz e Amor and the snake-hipped swinge of Samba with the dancer’s balance and emotions always a priority.
After the scorching début EP from P. Adrix, the first solo DJ Lilocox record perfectly demonstrates his depth and diversity whilst maintaining Príncipe’s rarely paralleled and flawless reputation for the freshest, timelessly effective dance music.

Boomkat, May 2018

On DJ Lilocox’s latest single, “Vozes Ricas” (“rich voices” in Portuguese) there is very little in the way of actual vocals. Instead, the Manchester-based, Portugal-born producer crafts a new, stirring language with an expansive palette of percussion. “Vozes Ricas” is the lead single from Lilocox’s debut EP for Príncipe Discos, Paz & Amor, and it affirms his ability to make thoughtful dance music without so much as a word—or even a bassline.
The types of drums punctuating “Vozes Ricas” are too numerous to categorize, and they ricochet off each other like rubber bullets fired at cement walls. A few distinct beats ring out, however, from floor toms, congas, and sizzling crash cymbals, their chaotic conversation resembling a heated debate between a dozen politicians. In the background, pulses of synths and 8-bit chirps try to butt into the conversation, but the rhythm section maintains the most compelling component, suggesting fierce and free motion. “Vozes Ricas” may be a wordless song, but DJ Lilocox’s repertoire of rhythms speaks volumes.

Pitchfork track review, May 2018


Vinyl 12″ / Digital
Written and produced by P. Adrix;
Mastered by Tó Pinheiro da Silva, Artwork by Márcio Matos;
Released February, 2018;

VINYL/DIGITAL: Order from us

A1 – Zelda Shyt
A2 – Bola de Cristal
A3 – 6.6.6
A4 – Estação de Queluz
A5 – Ovni
B1 – Abertura da Roda
B2 – Sonhos
B3 – Tejo
B4 – Viva La Raça


Adrix (P stands for Produtor) is one of those contemporary puzzles: born and raised in Lisbon, of Angolan descent, he moved to Manchester at 19, three years ago. We can say the nervous interplay between bass and beat stems from just that. Fierce, techy, twitchy grooves run through the whole of “Álbum Desconhecido”. It’s in the blood. Not surprisingly, Adrix has a soft spot for drum n bass but that’s because it clicked with the adrenalin rush leaping out of kuduro, his true long-standing obsession. The shiny synth washes on a track such as “Viva La Raça” come from that place in the future where everything is that bit more synthetic, kind of dangerous and uncertain, and then there’s a glimpse of Portugal in “Tejo”, soulful, real, imagined. As are the dreamy tones of “Estação de Queluz”, an actual suburban train station that will probably never again be glorified with such love.

But we feel we need to stay close to the jaw-dropping moment when we first heard his music and that can be defined by the title “Ovni”. We are not creating, we are transmitting. What do we know? “So that at last, as though out of some trivial and unimportant region beyond even distance, the sound of it seems to come slow and terrific and without meaning, as though it were a ghost travelling a half mile ahead of its own shape. ‘That far within my hearing before my seeing,’ Lena thinks.” Light in August, William Faulkner

Vinyl 12”; individually hand-painted, hand-stamped copies available for the world.


Príncipe kick off 2018 in a big way with the remarkable début by P. (as in ‘Producer’) Adrix; a 22 year old artist originally from Lisbon, now based in Manchester, who is equally adept at crafting full tilt, teched-out bangers as effervescent electronic soul music. His first release, Álbum Desconhecido is a supreme example of the innovative scenius in Angolan-Portuguese music, ratcheting the thrilling dynamics of Lisbon’s ghetto bass sound with deadly edits and pressure highly compatible with the UK’s jump-up jungle, drill or soca grime vibes.
Building on ground-breaking work forwarded by producer/DJs Marfox, Nervoso, Nídia and Lycox in recent years, Álbum Desconhecido is jaw-droppingly fresh, even by Príncipe’s up-to-the-second standards. And like Lycox, who hails from Angola and Lisbon via France, it’s fair to say that P. Adrix’s relative detachment from Lisbon has also led him to break the kuduro mould in scintillating new ways, effectively mapping out and recombining a glowing flux of ideas circulating the Black Atlantic diaspora.
Delivered in 9 short sharp stings between the seasick drill of Zelda Shyt and the laser-guided trance lixx of Viva La Raça, Adrix trades in a mix of virulent, adrenalised energy and soulful rollige that sets fire to any ‘floor across the breadth of Álbum Desconhecido. It’s clear and present in the turbulent, rug-pulling subs and febrile polyrhythms of Bola De Cristal, and to blinding degrees in the high-wire tension and bone-freezing edits of 6.6.6, whereas the zipping flutes of Ovni bind roots and future with breathtaking, needlepoint incision, leaving Sonhos to provide a dead sweet, even romantic contrast with the melancholic meditation of Tejo for fine measure.
After encountering Álbum Desconhecido, there can be little doubt that Adrix is making some of the most exciting dance music in the world right now – a boldly expressive and immediately effective sound that drives listeners to a rare but timeless sort of rave ecstasy – thrillingly synthetic and infused with an unmistakeable lust for the dance. In the right hands, it’s dangerous stuff. You’ve been warned!

Boomkat, February 2018

Adrix vai parecer aos ingleses como um produto de influência doméstica, uma vez que eles está baseado em Manchester há 3 anos. Misteriosos são os caminhos da batida de Lisboa. Em “Bola De Cristal”, a linha de baixo pode lembrar UK mas os pratos são de outro continente e o elemento de tarraxo infiltrado no meio do espaço sónico é também indubitavelmente outra geografia. O fluir nervoso da linha de baixo nas faixas neste mini-álbum é talvez o elemento que unifica a assinatura do Produtor Adrix. Tudo o resto é extraído da sua interpretação muito pessoal de kuduro e é livre de constrangimentos. Um ambiente quase romântico como o de “Estação De Queluz” parece reescrever a atmosfera da Linha de Sintra para uma experiência de melancolia e saudade. Essa reforçada em “Tejo”, cujo corte de guitarra bem claro pode ser uma verdadeira ode à tradição sem precisar de samplar melodias de Carlos Paredes. “Álbum Desconhecido” encerra a explicação de si mesmo no sentido em que a produção de Adrix não é bem comparável nem com o catálogo anterior da Príncipe nem com material editado com o qual tenhamos contactado. Que força, aqui.
Flur, February 2018

Mind bending, fearless blend of Kuduro & Grime derivatives – pure beat science 2nd to none
Hardwax, February 2018

The seemingly endless pool of talent at the core of the Príncipe label turns in possibly its most dynamically fwd focused release yet with Álbum Desconhecido by P. Adrix.
Across 21 odd minutes, the Lisbon raised but currently Manchester based producer turns in some of the most deadly transfixions of grime, techno and bass we’ve heard in recent years.
Opener Zelda Shyt perfectly sets the scene with the sort of shank riddims that made all of Danny Weed’s early 00’s productions such vital wax. Estação De Queluz mixes up some very DIY Rain Treanor percussion with tears in the club pads. While Viva La Raça snakes towards 2 step mode, yet sees it falling into some dazzling, euphoric catchment areas. Top it all off with a generous amount of P. Adrix bars and you have another excellent release on Príncipe.

Bleep, February 2018

Nídia em Bordéus, Lycox em Paris, P. Adrix em Manchester: o catálogo da Príncipe não é apenas uma clara montra da batida de Lisboa, é igualmente um mapa da diáspora. A disseminação global do som que a nossa “afro Lisboa” viu nascer sob tantos olhares desconfiados sobre a sua validade estética é uma realidade que resulta de ambição artística — certamente — mas também uma objectiva consequência das naturais necessidades dos que habitam as periferias: não apenas geográficas, mas também sociais ou culturais. Parece haver apenas duas opções: tomar de assalto o centro ou tentar a sorte noutro subúrbio, noutra equação, noutra realidade.
E talvez isso explique a melancolia que atravessa Álbum Desconhecido que P. Adrix agora apresenta na Príncipe e que desemboca no oblíquo assomo fadista de “Tejo”, tema que abre o último terço do alinhamento e que se faz de um loop de cordas que são tão digitais quanto de aço, tão reais quanto imaginadas. Consequência de uma saudade alimentada pela distância? Mais do que provável. Mas tudo isso acontece porque, como será possível até certo ponto inferir pelos títulos, muitos destes temas funcionam como “retratos”: senão de lugares (“Tejo”, “Estação de Queluz”), talvez de momentos (“Zelda Shyt”, “Abertura de Roda”), de sentimentos (“Viva La Raça”) ou emoções (“Ovni”, “Sonhos”).
O “P.” que precede Adrix, esclarece-nos logo na sua abertura o texto que serve de apresentação de Álbum Desconhecido na plataforma Bandcamp, é inicial da palavra Produtor. Poderemos ver na utilização desse designativo o vincar de uma diferença em relação a muitos dos outros artistas do catálogo que não abdicam do prefixo DJ nas suas identidades artísticas (DJ Marfox, DJ Nigga Fox, DJ Lycox, DJ Firmeza…). Ou seja, um criador menos atraído pela gestão da eficácia para a pista de dança e mais interessado na exploração das possibilidades discursivas ao seu alcance? Talvez. O que não significa que P. Adrix descarte por completo a procura de eficácia de pista nas suas criações: logo no tema de abertura, “Zelda Shyt”, o jovem de 22 anos que aos 19 anos se estabeleceu em Inglaterra, procura demonstrar que apesar de ter a cabeça no espaço, a sua música nunca se afasta em demasia da órbita do planeta kuduro, ainda que a sua trajectória elíptica o possa trazer mais perto ou levar para longe da sua força gravitacional. Como acontece, por exemplo, no belíssimo “Estação de Queluz”, que no seu desenho melódico de tons menores revela uma natural saudade de momentos certamente especiais, provavelmente vividos com amigos. E lá está a psicogeografia periférica a assumir um lugar distinto neste tal mapa que o catálogo Príncipe também desenha.
A parte final do álbum, com “Sonhos”, primeiro, “Tejo”, logo depois, mas também “Viva La Raça”, representa o mais importante depósito de tons nostálgicos que pontuam todo o alinhamento. São temas em que o “produtor” assume o comando, com uma óbvia ambição narrativa e discursiva. Adrix não quer apenas agitar a pista, quer também ilustrar os filmes que rodam na sua cabeça e consegue-o com momentos de uma singular beleza: “Sonhos” flutua, literalmente, nos nossos ouvidos, mercê de um arranjo etéreo que parece capaz de nos elevar uns quantos centímetros acima do chão. E “Tejo”, como já sugerido, parece querer agarrar numa ideia tradicional de Lisboa e projectá-la no futuro, como se os Dead Combo de repente colaborassem num tema original com Jlin depois de saírem de madrugada de uma noite Príncipe no Cais do Sodré. O tríptico conclui-se com “Viva La Raça” que ao kick insistente contrapõe uma flauta moldada pela força do MIDI a um crescendo que poderíamos descrever como épico ou dramático.
É um ponto final perfeito para um álbum conciso, mas a transbordar de ideias, a que se regressa uma e outra vez com idêntica e renovada paixão porque há sempre um novo ângulo, um novo gancho que nos segura e nos agarra. Na versão digital há mais um tema bónus a considerar, um autêntico “Tornado” em que a “dikanza” da funda identidade angolana de Adrix é projectada no espaço sideral numa autêntica explosão rítmica a que é impossível resistir.
O catálogo da Príncipe, como o universo de resto, continua a expandir-se, não apenas em tamanho, mas também em ideias válidas para o futuro, fundamentais para o presente. A de P. Adrix resulta num Álbum Desconhecido, mas perfeitamente acessível.

Rimas E Batidas, February 2018

I mean, P. Adrix’s new album just wants you to move, wherever you could be, in whatever sphere of unnameability that haunts you or whatever iteration that recurs in your life, binding it into poetry. However your life fits or chafes against the context of Album Desconhecido’s syntax, however it produces tiny kinks in the flow — like a calcium deposit in a kidney — just move, even if only glancingly. For from there, in that sphere of untouchability, and within that movement, can we, like the name of this album, become, somehow, unknown.
The attraction of these kuduro tracks lies in how they specifically draw attention to how danceable they are, but also how they are rough and jagged and irregular and encoded onto streets and embedded into walls and strewn forth onto cellphones, with no true center for where they exist except the Bandcamp page from which they came and the computer from which they were birthed. Maybe a couple of suburbs of big cities like Lisbon and Luanda could potentially be the cultural center, but they are not, for P. Adrix lives in Manchester. That this album participates in a cultural maelstrom also means that it comes from that same maelstrom — that of the digitally disconnected bodies of producers and dancers and DJs and little kids kicking a soccer ball with this playing on a cellphone and the music enthusiasts in the nightclub listening to this, heads moving, feet moving, eyes in a trance.
It sounds sometimes swampy, or crumply, like a composition notebook dragged onto concrete and forced into a nightclub, or a poster ripped off from its wall and turned into a drum kit. “Viva la Raça” sounds more angelic and lofty than the others, mostly because of its timbre, which sounds tranquil and made of air, or feathers, or whatever material an angel’s wings would be made of — perhaps the hair of God? What binds these tracks is their lack of any true crescendo or climax or conclusion: they just kind of exist, do what they need to do for a couple of minutes, and end, like a spermatozoid that’s lost its way and doesn’t dare ask directions. Any kind of simulation of the Divine or lofty critique of the Establishment will be left for the other music critics to decode. For me, their remote denseness suits us, and the obsolescence of P. Adrix points toward the idea that, in the nightclub, your status means nothing to the music.

Tiny Mix Tapes, March 2018

For tight-knit crews like Príncipe Discos, proximity is everything. Rooted on the outskirts of Lisbon, the niche label of DJs and producers has invigorated the city’s underground dance-music scene by drawing international attention to batida, the percussive, polyrhythmic sound popularized by immigrants from war-torn Angola and other former Portuguese colonies. Príncipe has expanded cautiously, in an effort to protect the community sound from exploitation and appropriation. So what happens when an artist relocates and the collective is forced to relax its grip? In the case of P. Adrix, a young producer who moved from Lisbon to Manchester, England, in 2015, the answer is Álbum Desconhecido, a riveting debut with a dual-citizen sensibility. Selectively fusing his native batida with elements of jungle, grime, and drum ‘n’ bass, he deftly links two hotbeds of electronic music and creates something entirely new.
Conceived in Lisbon’s vast slums and suburbs, batida is a hybrid of traditional African rhythms—Angolan kuduro, kizomba, and zouk, among others—and contemporary electronic dance music. It gained traction in 2012 as Príncipe waded into block parties boasting minimal equipment and big beats. The sound is marked by frantic synths and fierce, choppy drum patterns, its turbulence and dizzying repetition reflecting Lisbon’s tumultuous political climate. As Príncipe co-founder Pedro Gomes told Pitchfork in 2014, “We were looking for contemporary manifestations and evolutions of Angolan and Verdean music that reacted to being from there and now living here.”
But just as emigration from Luanda to Lisbon turned kuduro into batida, so the sound has continued to evolve as it has been carried out of Portugal and into new countries. Nowhere is this happening as radically or artfully as on Desconhecido, which rounds up all of the original ingredients and bakes them in enthralling new forms. It’s reassuring to see Príncipe broadening its horizons; the label has recently supported more experimental projects, like DJ Nigga Fox’s longform acid 12-inch and the unexpected melodies DJ Lycox unveiled in a mix for the Astral Plane. The traditional rhythms underpinning batida still inform these releases, but they no longer exclusively define them. The same can be said for Desconhecido. Moving at a breakneck pace, Adrix takes listeners on a rollercoaster of twitchy techno, whinnying flutes, furious breakbeats, and sensual soul.

Pitchfork, March 2018


Vinyl 12″ / Digital
Written and produced by DJ Lycox;
Mastered by Tó Pinheiro da Silva, Artwork by Márcio Matos;
Released November, 2017;

VINYL/DIGITAL: Order from us

A1 – Weekend
A2 – Galinha
A3 – Domingo Abençoado
A4 – Virgin Island
A5 – Nichako
B1 – La Java
B2 – Parabéns Moh Baba
B3 – Quarteto Fantástico
B4 – Sky
B5 – Solteiro
– Ferrero (digital bonus track via Bandcamp only)
– 2855 (digital bonus track via Bandcamp only)


It is now possible to see a big picture. This means there is a timeline with enough years and developments since this sound emerged on its own. Lycox is of course part of a newer generation that keeps adding to the transmission, but he is already inspiring a younger set of producers.

“Sonhos & Pesadelos” helps materialize a multiverse of bold, shiny chrome architecture, staying true to the original kuduro backbone while Lycox organizes new forms, song structures and even artificial life. If you can’t call it “raw” it’s only because this is mental space translated into sound. The physicality of the music is but one element in Lycox’s ambitious take on dance music, although we should really say pop music, such is the melodic and harmonic forces at work. “Solteiro” could be just an ambient beauty but the abnormally long 4-minute mark reveals layers of masterful songcrafting well outside what some might still be tempted to classify as “ethnic”.
Not a classic seaside romance.

Vinyl 12″; individually hand-painted, hand-stamped copies available for the world.


Tia Maria Produções member DJ Lycox goes solo in a big way with debut album Sonhos & Pesadelos for the resoundingly influential Príncipe label. Based in Paris, DJ Lycox pushes a super colourful and hard-edged variant of Lisbon’s batida sound, blending tarraxho rhythms with afro-house, deep house and trap tropes in a singular style. His Sonhos & Pesadelos LP is the 2nd single artist album on Príncipe following release of Nídia’s Nídia É Má, Nídia É Fudida and serves to keep the quality levels ticking high with bountiful variation and party-ready effect between its standout moments such as the tropical drill swerve of Gallinha, suave Ron Trent vibes on Domingo Abençoado, and purely infectious rufige in the likes of Nichako, the almost Gqom-Like darkside banger La Java, and the spine twysting torque of Quarteto Fantástico, with special mention to the UKF compatible Sky.
Boomkat, October 2017

“Solteiro” is an uncharacteristically gentle and pulsating tune that feels — more than anything — romantic in its rhythm. Truth be told, it’s quite beautiful. And it follows lots and lots and lots of heretofore phenomenal music from the label.
Tiny Mix Tapes, October 2017

Absolutely killer debut album from one of the Principe’s most on it producers DJ Lycox, following on from an inclusion on Warp’s first Cargaa 12″ and credits on one of the scenes finest releases to date, Tá Tipo Já Não Vamos Morrer by Tia Maria Produções.
Across its twelve track duration, DJ Lycox’s excellent Sonhos & Pesadelos manages to dilute all manner of sounds from first wave funky, Kuduro, elements of deep house, jagged techno, new age grime and even what sounds like a violin to make a fast-paced trip through the truly innovative soundworld that makes Principe such a powerful force.
Aiming for a similar approach to production aimed squarely at the dancefloor as the recent Errorsmith LP on PAN, Sonhos & Pesadelos takes elements of classic club records but mixes them with a left of center approach, adding a much-needed layer of oddball mentality to these somewhat saturated genres.
Once you wrap your ears around this one you will instantly recognize how easy it is to spot a Lycox production from a mile off, his sequencing just cuts through everything else. Leaving you short of breath from its organic, and spiky melodic textural reduction of the classic sounds that feed into this next level music.

Bleep, November 2017

Anyone looking for the syncopated rhythms, lazer synths and militant attitude of kuduro should go straight to “La Java.” (Surely it’s no coincidence that there’s a Paris nightclub of the same name.) “Nichako,” the other standout, underlines Lycox’s similarities with gqom, the South African style of house. There’s an almost Balearic swing to “Domingo Abençoado,” while “Sky”‘s 4/4 and melody of strings could be disco house, until a jumble of extra percussion tumbles in. Angolan genres like kizomba and tarraxinha no doubt inform Lycox’s approach. His ear for odd melodies suits his bright palette, which maintains pop intrigue while remaining unconventional, intriguing and occasionally confusing.
Resident Advisor, November 2017


Vinyl LP / CD / Digital
Written and produced by Nídia;
Mastered by Tó Pinheiro da Silva, Artwork by Márcio Matos;
Released July, 2017;

VINYL/CD/DIGITAL: Order from us

A1 – Mulher Profissional
A2 – Biotheke
A3 – Underground
A4 – House Musik Dedo
A5 – Puro Tarraxo
B1 – I Miss My Ghetto
B2 – Toma
B3 – Brinquedo
B4 – É da Banda
B5 – Arme
B6 – Indian
CD – Kilobo (CD bonus track)
CD – Shane Hoah (CD bonus track)
CD – Sinistro (CD bonus track)


“One’s life has value so long as one attributes value to the life of others, by means of love, friendship, indignation, compassion”, Simone de Beauvoir once offered. Nídia has embraced as much as conducted her path on earth so far by means of her senses and her acute intuition, learning from the positive and negative sides of experience, contemplating the marvel of the human spirit, ever inspired by her own curiosity for the unveiled. Her music sounds to us as the perfect expression of her attitude in life.

More than appropriate intro titled “Mulher Profissional”. It’s a shout of empowerment, setting the pace for what is indeed a highly energized album. Listen closely and you will spot production skills that are beyond the standard of dance music genres, running wild but with a definite sense of purpose. This sounds like Africa taken (further more) into the future by command of a rogue mind – we’ll save you the thrill of translating the album’s title.

The hint of nostalgia possibly detected on a title such as “I Miss My Guetto” is quickly obliterated by a sort of hunger for the future, what’s to come, but also what’s already bubbling feverishly. It’s as if Nídia is hit from every side and everything is so exciting that she just has to incorporate all manner of sights and sounds into her productions.

Tracks are kept generally short. They are strong, compact entities that announce the coming of something else – “Biotheke”, for example, soundtracks a parade of Tripods if such an event could fit the narrative in “War Of The Worlds”.

The LP ends – whenever the listener chooses – with the locked groove ‘Indian’. The CD version has 3 bonus tracks, including recent live favorite, the slow & sensuous burning ’Sinistro’.

Vinyl LP; individually hand-painted, hand-stamped copies available on Bandcamp and Portugal only.


While Nidia’s two previous EPs and handful of Soundcloud singles painted a portrait of an artist more than capable of making head-spinning, polyrhythmic tunes, “Sinistro” debuts her more understated side. There’s not much motion in “Sinistro”—its primary parts just a looping click, unadorned kick drums, and sweltering whisper—generate an unbelievable amount of atmosphere.There are no peak or valleys, just this unchanging soundwave. “Sinistro” doesn’t draw you in not by virtue of its rhythm or groove, because it has almost neither of those qualities. Rather, the song shows that Nidia’s music, magnetic as it is, no longer needs to fit into the grid of the dance floor, and can exist all in its own space.
Pitchfork, June 2017

Many of the album’s track stand at less than three minutes in length, offering brief, but sharp shots of energy, the intensity rarely letting up. Opener ‘Mulher Profissional’ sounds like baile funk as reimagined by the Príncipe crew, acting as a fitting introduction to the dizzying heights that are to come. Those already primed on the label’s sound will find lots to enjoy in this record, while those not quite so in tune with Lisbon’s most vital current club sound will soon be brought up to speed as tracks like ‘Biotheke’ and ‘Underground’ roll through with the kind of drums so synonymous with Príncipe’s roster. The latter’s coda finds the producer bringing the label’s sound together with early ‘00s R&B, much in the same way as a number of grime experimenter did in the last decade to birth the r’n’g movement. I doubt there will be many more infectious club records than this released this year.
The Quietus, June 2017

When Príncipe’s grande dame kicks off Nídia é Má, Nídia é Fudida with a track called ‘Mulher Profissional’ (‘Professional Woman’ in English), you know she means business. When she includes a Simone de Beauvoir quote in the album’s press release, you know she’s not to be fucked with.
Nídia’s first full-length goes way beyond consolidating her previous tarraxinha and batida-spun work into a coherent whole. Instead, it mines an even wider variety of influences, touching on everything from boom bap and balearic to deconstructed club and hoover bass. Her unmistakable taut looped drums are still a force to be reckoned, with some of the album’s best moments built around ideas of repetition and precision, but there’s also a mysticism that wafts around its darker corners, betraying an almost devotional fervor.

FACT, June 2017

Its title translates loosely as “Nídia is bad, Nídia is dope.” (That’s “bad,” of course, in the “not bad meaning bad but bad meaning good” sense of the term.) The opening track is all swagger: Insistent horn fanfare, rattling percussion, the defiant cry of “Mulher Profissional!” (“Professional woman!”)—as defiant as a fighter’s ring-walk anthem, it’s a triumphant way for the 20-year-old musician to declare that she is all business. What follows this brassy intro is a succession of short, devastatingly kinetic tracks. Most of them are well under three minutes long, full of brittle percussion samples, mind-bendingly complex syncopations, and rapid-fire synth bursts, as though someone had tossed a brick of firecrackers onto a Korg factory assembly line. To listeners familiar with DJ Marfox, Nigga Fox, Firmeza, and other Príncipe musicians, Nídia’s music won’t sound completely alien. But much of the album is imbued with a tough, almost confrontational tone, a not-to-be-fucked-with vibe that is hers alone.

Her rhythms are unusually intricate. “Biotheke” rides a complicated drum groove that feels perpetually on the verge of collapse as it traces its tornado-like path through a mess of metal and wood. In “É da Banda,” the clattering drum sounds seem almost random at first; it’s only when the kick asserts its gravitational pull that all the elements fall into place. Stripped of everything but snapping drums and a high-pitched, hiccupping refrain, it makes for a dazzling display of her rhythmic skills. What’s most striking about her music, though, is her use of dissonance. A handful of sharp, key-clashing sounds lent 2015’s Danger EP an extra hint of menace, but here they definitively become her signature. The eerie, haunted-carousel melody of “Biotheke” sets into stark relief the tune’s clanging percussion and deadweight bass riffs. “Mulher Profissional” is a riot of tinny frequencies and stabbing motions; “Arme” bristles with needling tones, vocal shots pitched a half-tone apart, and a piercing melody that sounds like a tape being fast-forwarded.

The slow, grinding “Puro Tarraxo” is a good example of the mind-bending complexity of her approach. Over an almost dembow like groove, the sounds pile up: high-pitched, staccato vocal samples; video-game bleeps; a harsh, buzzing sound that splits the stereo field wide open. In between these hard, bright tones, a weird, modal melody dances in circles, all but invisible amid a collection of elements so shrill they could set your teeth on edge. It sometimes seems like the main organizing principle of her music is the lattice of crisscrossing lasers found in Hollywood bank vaults: Getting inside is tricky business, indeed.

But there’s also a softer side to her music. In one of the album’s finest tracks, “Underground,” her fondness for dissonance yields fluttering, guitar-like chords jumbled up with jagged synths, a balance of soft tone clusters and sharp angles as tactile as a fistful of dandelion tufts and broken glass. And on “I Miss My Ghetto,” brooding piano chords apply the brakes to runaway drums and breakneck syncopations—the rare moment of introspection from a young artist who clearly seems more interested in moving forward than looking back. It’s also a suggestion that, no matter how far batida travels, it’s not likely to forget its roots.
Pitchfork, July 2017

Since that electrifying Danger 12” she really left us hanging, with only Pra Fachar and the raucous Festive delivered on compilations in the meantime to keep us sated. Now, after carving up clubs and festivals all over the shop, she’s followed her nose and fed that energy into a battery of unpretentious, hard-hitting and bittersweet aces; a full clip of short sharp shocks designed to be flung in and out of DJ sets and light up BBQs and parties with infectiously driven rhythms and stinging, hi-tension rhythmelodies. You want highlights? Run come get ‘em in the maaaad synths of Biotheke and militant snares of Shane Noah; from the trampling force of Toma; in the hard but homesick melancholy of I Miss My Ghetto; and especially in those super succinct shots of wrapped vocals such as Indian and Mulher Profissional, and the lip-bitingly strong grind of Puro Tarraxho. Biggest tip to fans of killer new dance music!!!
Boomkat, July 2017