artwork by Márcio Matos
Festa no Musicbox na baixa lisboeta.
Party at Musicbox in downtown Lisbon.
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
3x Vinyl 7″ / Digital
Written and produced by K30, DJ Ninoo, Puto Anderson;
Mastered by Tó Pinheiro da Silva, Artwork by Márcio Matos;
Released June, 2017;
VINYL/DIGITAL: Order from us
A1 – K30 – Era Uma Ve(z)
A2 – K30 – Hora da Casa
B1 – K30 – Sistema
B2 – K30 – Melodias do K30
C1 – DJ NinOo – Ambientes Leves
D1 – DJ NinOo – Saudades do Russel
E1 – Puto Anderson – Éh Brincadeira
F1 – Puto Anderson – Gritos do Infinito
Txiga means something like “come close” and that takes us right into the heart of the matter. Although especially apparent in the tarraxo style they are so connected to, the expression reveals unbounded enthusiasm for music, taken from the roots up, wherever the feeling projects it to. And so we felt this crew had to come across in a special way. Three seven inch records, one for each of the main producers (Wayne is kept as a reserve), represent three branches of the same tree.
The 4 tracks produced by K30 explore a more synthetic approach to the syncopated PALOP sound of the streets, a sort of avant-garde technoid expression of the batida identity. Sparse atmospheres, exotic percussion punches and something of a minimalist nature. “Melodias Do K30” bring in more drama but also a casual production method assumed as such – check the false ending.
OK, DJ NinOo, with ondulating Oo’s and that’s exactly what it feels like when you get to the end of the spacey, romantic “Ambientes Leves”, an outstanding slow jam guaranteed to keep those rainy days happy. The extra heavy bassline pairs up with circular synth waves for a sweet and sour atmosphere nothing else than unique. Then comes “Saudades Do Russel”, a loving dedication in house tempo and sporting a complex, nostalgic keys workout.
We chose two old cuts by Puto Anderson that might seem to limit the perspective regarding his production, but these actually push us back to the sort of raw ground zero where the whole batida substance has evolved from. Heavy, minimal, aggressive and happy in a way most os us can only try to grasp. The relentless, gritty groove on both tracks comes from another era to fall flat on the centre of the dancefloor and keep things tight.
3x Vinyl 7″; individually hand-painted, hand-stamped copies available worldwide.
Personally, I relish the temporary room for a little quick cardio brought about by a fortuitously empty lift, so I don’t really blame Portuguese dance music trio Firma do Txiga for leaving some breathing room between one another on their very first self-titled release for the Lisbon-based Príncipe label (whose stated mission, btw, is to release “100% real contemporary dance music coming out of this city, its suburbs, projects & slums”).
Basically, any prior assumptions that members of a band need actually “play music in the same room with one another” need to be reevaluated after hearing this record — because K30, DJ NinOo, and Puto Anderson are doing things somewhat “detached” for this first go-‘round (nobody likes to feel hot breath on their neck while they’re producing hot beats, I suppose). The album — which arrives digitally on June 16 — takes the form of three 7-inch records, each of which is dedicated to music from just one single band member.
You get the impression from listening to some of the Firma do Txiga’s sample tracks down below that the group name could’ve been used and nobody would’ve been the wiser (excepting Puto’s DJ call), but at least this way we get to play the fun musicological game of trying to pick out the proclivities of each of these talented newcomers on an individual level. It’s time for a little granular musical analysis, everybody!
Tiny Mix Tapes, April 2017
K30’s sparse synthetic style is the most intriguing. He renders kuduro’s stumbling rhythms in cold metallic tones, and offers jolts of the bizarre: melodies that wander like drunken spiders and “Era Uma Ve(z)”‘s spatters of dissonant chords. “Hora Da Casa” and “Sistema” make use of ear-tickling water-drop percussion. The former, with its stop-start drums and icy organ melody, is the better of the two. The highlight, “Melodias Do K30,” follows K30’s techno-like sound choices to their logical conclusion, pairing the familiar stumbling rhythm with dappled chords straight out of a dub techno track.
DJ NinOo charms by more conventional means. “Ambientes Leves” drops to a slower, hip-winding tarraxinha beat, and drips with luscious melody. “Saudades Do Russel” is even better, pairing an exquisite lead line with featherlight percussion. Puto Anderson’s record could hardly be more different. His two tracks are apparently older, and the label describes them as a kind of “raw ground zero” for the Afro-Portuguese sound. Their merciless barrages of scraped percussion, whistles and shakers loop frantically for four minutes apiece, making for intense listening. Of the two, “Gritos Do Infinito” has more spark thanks to its flickering rhythms and a bewildering vocal breakdown.
Resident Advisor, June 2017
Beautifully presented, in a hand-painted slipcase: brilliant, wildly contrasting iterations of Lisbon’s batida sound, by three members of the ‘Come Close’ collective. K30’s palop style is freely expressive, rootsily futuristic and rhythmically complex, with tough, evocative percussion and lute. Techno potatoheads should check Melodias.
NinOo’s sides are hazy with longing, shot through with light — laying unpredictable synths and limber, tasty drumming over old-school house aesthetics. Hypnotic and mad-for-it, two Puto Anderson onslaughts rock hardcore clean off its hinges. Terrific stuff.
Honest Jon’s, June 2017
After shots dispatched on the Cargaa 3 and Mambos Levis D’Outro Mundo compilations, K30 steps to his solo debut plate with the most mercurial vibes of all three. A-side he explores “a more synthetic approach to the syncopated PALOP sound of the streets, a sort of avant-garde technoid expression of the bated identity” with four mercurial grooves dancing from the plasmic string licks and syrupy bump of Era Uma Ve(z) to curdled organ riffs and nimble drums in Hora da Casa and one rot the oddly stark turn of System and the BIG highlight of warped techno chords, thizzing pads and brittle shuffle in Melodias do K30.
DJ NinOo follows with a deeply sweet but rugged pair on his plate, forming a perfect introduction tot he world at large with the Moments In Love-styled choral voices and downtempo romance of Ambientes Leves backed by the wistfully dusky and up-shuffled bustle of Saudades do Russel, before Puto Anderson charges up the final plate with two archival zingers; the hypnotic pressure of Éh Brincadira and the completely inimitable, scuffling woodblock cadence and parry of Gritos do Infinito, which is surely one of the maddest, distinctive grooves we’ve heard in years. A total no brainer, this. Highly recommended!
Boomkat, June 2017