Fausto

Born in 1948 and deceased in July 2024, Fausto Bordalo Dias was one of the most important and revered Portuguese singer-songwriters.
Raised in Angola by Portuguese parents, at a time when the country had not yet gained independence, he moved to Lisbon to study political science, where he came into contact with the local intelligentsia, including singer-songwriters José Afonso and Adriano Correia de Oliveira, all of them strongly opposed to the regime of António de Oliveira Salazar.
It was thus that Fausto himself, as he called himself from the very start, became part of the movement known as música de intervenção (protest music), which managed to make headway between the second half of the Sixties and the first half of the Seventies, in constant tension with the authorities and censorship (one could write a whole separate article on the bureaucratic mechanisms used by artists and record labels to spread this material despite repression).

Following the Carnation Revolution of 1974, which restored democracy to Portugal, he distanced himself from the more direct and militant approach, to which he dedicated one final release in 1977, the album "Madrugada dos trapeiros" ("The Rag-Pickers' Dawn").
In 1979, with "Histórias de viageiros" ("Travelers' Stories"), came the turning point, thanks to picaresque lyrics drawing on popular tradition, set in past centuries and featuring sailors, thieves, migrants and people of low social standing as protagonists.
His political commitment had not disappeared, but it had become less direct: the album tells the other side of Portuguese colonialism, and rather than focusing on the epic spirit of great voyages, it turns its attention to abuses, squalor and pettiness. It is, in essence, an undeclared attack on the imperial grandeur championed by Salazar himself until his death in 1970.

The album was followed by three years of silence, due both to the enormous scale of the next project and to the difficulties Orfeu was going through in the meantime. The label Fausto had been with since his 1970 debut was in fact close to shutting down, both because of the economic crisis (Portugal would request International Monetary Fund intervention twice between 1977 and 1983) and because of shifting public tastes, increasingly drawn to the modern sounds of the new Anglophone rock and less and less to the protest singer-songwriter tradition that had been the label's backbone.
To record the new album, Fausto sought support from Sassetti, a historic brand that had been active in music publishing since 1848. Sassetti was enthusiastic about the opportunity and founded Triângulo, an elite division whose purpose was to finance the artist and give him maximum creative freedom.

This is how "Por este rio acima" came to be, its lyrics inspired by "Peregrinação" ("Peregrination"), the monumental travel account of Fernão Mendes Pinto (1509-1583), an explorer, merchant and Jesuit missionary. Published posthumously in 1614, it was long considered a work of fantasy and discredited by academia, due to its extremely critical accounts of the Portuguese and the violence they inflicted on local populations, plundering their possessions and exploiting their labor, always sheltered behind the saving excuse of evangelization.
For this reason the author never wanted to publish it during his lifetime, fearing he would incur the wrath of the Inquisition. Only over the course of the twentieth century was it widely reassessed, its contents, despite some fictionalized elements, deemed plausible and consistent with the historical realities of the time: today it is considered a cornerstone of its field.
"Por este rio acima" itself represents an important link in the chain that led to the reconsideration of its source material, thanks to the enormous cultural impact it achieved.

Fausto thus continued his picaresque dream, with a work made up of two LPs and sixteen songs, lasting around an hour and a quarter.
Eduardo Paes Mamede was brought in as arranger and producer, previously a member of the militant collective Grupo de Acção Cultural (cultural action group), which had counted Fausto himself among its founders and had disbanded shortly after the return to democracy.
The best of the local scene came together to accompany him: classical guitarist Pedro Caldeira Cabral, folk guitarist Júlio Pereira (former member of the prog-folk group Petrus Castrus), jazz keyboardist João Paulo and percussionist Rui Júnior (discovered for the sessions of this album and later much sought after by the great Portuguese singer-songwriters). Worth noting is the impromptu collaboration of experimental violinist Ernesto Rodrigues, an artist of international standing, who takes part in "O barco vai de saída".

The music had expanded compared to the past, reflecting the broadened horizons being described; the songs have fluid structures mirroring their torrential lyrics, the vocal arrangements are complex, with choirs and refined polyphonies: the former draw on the tradition of Alentejo (a region in southern Portugal), the latter on the great European Renaissance schools.
The instrumentation is richer than ever: baroque horn orchestrations, chamber strings, electric bass and synthesizers pile up alongside ancient and/or local traditional instruments, such as the Portuguese guitar, lutes, soprano viola da gamba, the braguesa (a ten-string guitar first recorded in the 17th century, typical of the city of Braga), the cavaquinho (a small five-string guitar, also typical of Braga), the adufe (a frame drum of Moorish origin, typical of the Castelo Branco district) and the bombo (a drum typical of all of Portugal, here represented in particular by the rhythms of the Beira Baixa region).
More sporadically, but to very striking effect, Eastern influences also emerge, the better to portray the countries visited by Mendes Pinto, such as Indian tabla (present in "Porque não me vês" and "Lembra-me um sonho lindo") and Vietnamese trống cơm (in "Como um sonho acordado"), as well as the use of minor keys and hints of scales or modes typical of Andalusian or Indian music.

Since Fausto grew up in Angola, African music also leaves its mark, as noted by critic Fernando Magalhães in 1998:

"The themes are mostly divided into two sets, A and B. The first follows a traditional style, bitonal or tritonal, with the melody oscillating between tonic and dominant, yet it does not rest on the strong beats of the bar (a characteristic typical of the music of Luanda's outlying neighborhoods). This creates a "floating" effect over a solid rhythmic base, further marked by the constantly off-beat accents of a guitar: another distinctive trait of the instrumental accompaniment typical of that region. On the other hand, there is the conception of set B, which explores modulations toward more distant tonalities, sustaining a fluid melody that frees itself from the constraints of a bitonal or tritonal framework."

The pacing of the songs is instead split between contemplative moments linked to the Coimbra fado, as in the ballad "A ilha", and hypnotic structures that build in intensity to reproduce the rhythm of oars, the rolling of waves, the panic of storms at sea, or simply the stress caused by constant exposure to violence and extreme situations (for example, the hammering finale of "Como um sonho acordado", influenced by the traditional music of the Azores).

Released on November 19, 1982, it was Fausto's most successful record up to that point. Today it is considered one of the masterpieces of Portuguese music, but even looking beyond national borders, it stands as one of the finest works in the history of progressive folk and one of the most ambitious attempts to modernize ancient musical traditions.
The tri-continental, centuries-spanning blend of the arrangements makes it an inexhaustible treasure trove of layers, in which one can always discover one more detail.

The lyrics are no less remarkable, with their brutal tales told through fragments of memory, leaping from image to image, from reflection to reflection, like a stream of consciousness applied to the age of exploration, with all its overload of hunger, religious fanaticism, thirst for power, greed, abuse, bloodbaths, storms and distant landscapes. Below is a translated selection, which we warmly recommend reading, because European singer-songwriting has rarely reached such literary heights:

"O barco vai de saída" ("The Ship Is About to Sail")

The ship is about to set sail,
farewell, o quay of Alfama,
if I leave now I'll take you with me, o cana-verde [note – traditional dance from northwestern Portugal]
remember me, my love,
remember me in this adventure
beyond madness,
beyond the equator.
Ah, what a cruel fate!
I have every reason to complain
about the homeland's scant abundance,
full of sorrows, ah, [it's the] breakwater,
with so many dangers, ah, [it's] my life,
with so much fear and trembling,
that now I proceed in leaps,
that I keep running away,
without telling that secret story,
for having served as a manservant to that lady,
she too made use [of me], she was so seductive,
it was a shame, it was a shame, and it was a shame, yes sir,
what a beautiful life that was in Lisbon.
Bold, with a confident stride,
a corsair without a cruzado [note – Portuguese currency in circulation from 1457 to 1835],
to the sound of the baile mandado [note – a traditional dance of southern Portugal],
in lands of pepper and wonders,
with dreams of silver and fantasy,
with dreams the colors of the rainbow,
se li vedi ti fanno impazzire,
farnetichi magia.
Ho già la vela gonfia di vento,
marrano senza vergogna,
ebreo senza niente, senza un letto,
vado in viaggio, ah che partenza!
Vedo solo colori, ah che allegria!
Vedo solo pirati e tesori,
sono argenti, sono ori,
sono notti, sono giorni.
Vado sul maestoso trono delle acque,
vado nel tremendo soffio dei venti,
vado al di sopra dei miei pensieri,
fa venire i brividi, fa venire i brividi, e fa venire i brividi, sì signore,
what a beautiful life that was in Lisbon.
Il mare delle acque in fiamme,
the frenzy of the skies,
the fury of the gale,
strike the sail and get to the helm, sailor!
The ship capsizes and the sailor falls into the sea,
the ship capsizes on the curve of death,
look at my fate,
look at such misfortune!
And after the ship has capsized,
deafening screams and shouts
in the [attempt] to save the desperate.
Flay, kill, grab!
Ah, who will help me?
Pray, beg, flee!
Ah, what chaos!
Heroes and eunuchs pray and tremble.
Sono mori, sono turchi,
sono mori, soccorso!
Quella è una tempesta terribile,
va oltre ciò che è eterno,
quello era il ritratto dell'inferno.
Va a fondo, va a fondo, e va a fondo, sì signore,
what a beautiful life that was in Lisbon.

"A guerra é a guerra" ("War Is War")

The song recounts the clash that took place in 1540 between the forces of the Portuguese explorer and privateer António de Faria and those of the Muslim corsair Coja Acém. The battle was fought on the waters of the Tinlau river, somewhere along the coast of Southeast Asia, but historians have so far been unable to identify a place matching that name.

Salto nel buio,
tra i denti tengo il coltello
e nei miei occhi colorati, giuro,
vieni a vedere il fuoco del mare,
i pesci bruciare,
o Ana vieni a vedere.
Volando in arco,
insinuo il corpo [stando] in equilibrio,
come un pilota dell'inferno, assalgo,
sulle ali guerriere di un angelo, sia lodato,
attacchiamo molto confusi,
come una band indemoniata,
per Gesù sulla sua croce.
Piangi per me o mia infanta,
scorre sangue in cielo e a terra,
ah sì, per quanto sia santa,
la guerra è la guerra.
Malacca, Malacca,
la guerra è la guerra, nel cielo e in terra,
tra i denti il coltello, avanzo e avanzo,
in equilibrio, in equilibrio.
Sia benedetto (crociato, crociato, la guerra è la guerra),
fra tutti il più decorato (nel cielo e in terra, il più decorato),
guardami, il miglior guerriero in carne e ossa,
guardami, il tuo amato, e il cielo che brucia.
Barche in fiamme innalzate,
sembrava una cosa sognata,
bruciati i gridi orrendi della bestia ferita,
e là dentro bruciavano uomini incastrati,
e qua fuori a colpi di fendente,
mutilati nella notte,
con i petti ormai disfatti.
Scappa contadino, ah, villano,
resisti António de Faria, per la nobiltà,
tutto il massacro e tutto lo sconforto,
che già sta arrivando Khoja Hassan e il mare [è] in fiamme.
Ci dice addio il pirata, lo zotico,
dalla cima di quell'albero di maestra, beffardo e leggiadro,
mostrando il sedere cafro,
pitch-black darkness,
carrying off our skin and treasure,
laughing with joy.
The rest was lost in the crush,
amid the roar of the gash,
in the swelling of the gangrene.

"O romance de Diogo Soares" ("The Tale of Diogo Soares")

Diogo Soares, the great general,
called "the Galician",
the man with the fatal gaze,
commands sixty thousand men from foreign lands,
winning and fighting for whoever pays the most,
effective in speech,
ingratiating, for he wins the favor
of princes and samurai,
he is already governor of the kingdom of Pegu,
stronger than the king,
richer thanks to masterful strokes.
In that city
lived a merchant named Mambogoá,
of endless fortune,
and on that day, the wedding day,
he was giving a daughter in marriage to Manica the Mandarin.
Diogo Soares passed by,
having heard of the celebration,
he congratulated the bride and groom and their parents,
and the bride, so beautiful,
offered him a ring,
thanking him for the honor
with pure and sensual gestures,
then the Galician,
instead of observing due decorum,
he seized her and said to her thus:
'O beautiful girl, you are mine, mine alone,
you belong to no one,
to no one but me'.
Father Mambogoá,
seeing the brute seize
his daughter so harshly,
hearing this insult in dismay,
raised his hands to the sky,
his knees upon the ground,
the very portrait of sorrow,
asking and imploring through tears:
'I beg you, my lord,
out of reverence for the God you worship,
conceived in the womb without stain or sin,
do not take my daughter,
do not take away my treasure,
for I would die of grief,
for I would die, so abandoned'.
But Diogo Soares ordered the groom to be killed,
who wept, embracing
the frightened, trembling girl,
and the bride strangled herself
with a silk ribbon
before the sensual Galician
could take her by force.
The earth and the air trembled at the cries
of the women's weeping,
so great as to strike fear,
and the father Mambogoá
asking through the streets
for justice against the murderer,
wakes the quiet city:
'O people, o people,
come out like lightning in the fury of the rains,
in the wind of the lash,
and let fire consume his last days,
and tear his flesh to shreds
in the middle of the night'.
In less [time] than a Credo,
in one great cry
for the love of the afflicted,
the whole people joined the old man,
with such fury and thirst for revenge,
they dragged the prisoner Diogo Soares into the square,
and the people cheered
that his vein be as empty of blood
as hell is full of it,
and he climbed the scaffold, kissed every step,
while whispering the name of Jesus.
His son Baltasar Soares,
who was coming from home,
seeing his father led this way,
threw himself at his feet weeping,
and for a long time [they remained] embracing
in the embrace of mortals:
'My lord, why do they take you away,
cruel and vengeful,
my lord, why do they beat you
e perché vi uccidono tremendamente?'.
'Chiedilo ai miei peccati,
essi te lo diranno,
perché ormai me ne vado in un modo
in cui tutto mi sembra un sogno'.
E furono così tante pietre sul condannato
che questi morì ruggendo,
il rosario dei suoi peccati
inzuppato nella bava dell'odio degli uomini,
schiuma animale di tutti i cani affamati.
I bambini e i giovani
trascinarono il suo corpo senza vita per le vie,
tirandolo per la gola,
e la gente dava l'elemosina,
offrendola ai ragazzi,
gave it as if it were
a deeply pious and holy work.
So end the annals
of the great general called "the Galician",
the man with the fateful gaze.

"Por este rio acima" ("Up This River")

Going back up this river,
leaving behind me
the deep cavity
of the house of smoke,
I drew closer to the dream,
floating upon the waters
of the rivers of the heavens,
where ginger and honey flow,
silks, porcelain, pepper and cinnamon,
receiving offerings
of music sweet to our ears,
light as the air,
the land to be sailed,
my love, so I go,
sailing up this river.
Going back up this river,
the boats are painted with many designs,
they depict balconies and Inês's hair,
they trace memories along the water,
enchanted woods, chestnut groves, orange groves,
wheat fields, divided loves,
they soothe sorrows when they are felt,
monsters asleep in the sphere of fire,
how peace is born
sailing up this river.
My dream, how I long for you,
I don't even know,
resta ancora un pochino, che anch'io [resto con te], amore mio.

"Lembra-me um sonho lindo" ("It Reminds Me of a Beautiful Dream")

You remind me of a beautiful dream
almost over,
you remind me of an open sky,
another one closed,
my vein bursts and bleeds,
strangled,
a cry explodes in my chest,
headlong,
sing nightingale, sing,
don't give me sorrow,
grow sunflower, grow
among the lilies,
caress my whole body
if I belong to you,
lacerami con il vento ardente
di fumo d'incenso,
ah, come ti desidero,
ah, nel cuore della notte,
ah, anima della terra,
ah, bella così distesa,
ah, come ti amo,
ah, così tranquilla,
ah, bacio il tuo corpo,
ah, capo di grano tanto ambito.

"Quando às vezes ponho diante dos olhos" ("When I Sometimes Put Before My Eyes")

When at times I set before my eyes
the terrible Portuguese journey I made,
the past torments and the fates I have wept for,
the body burns in prayer, between sin and forgiveness,
the heart agonizes and the body burns,
from the elbow of the earth to the eyelid of the world,
I was a prisoner thirteen times, sold seventeen,
the seas killed thousands of people in a single groan.
Poor me, I am a missionary,
flee, kaffir, now I am a corsair,
a volunteer sailor, poor me.
When at times I set before my eyes
the fury of the tremendous wave torn open by the wind
the horror of a monster's snout
horribly imprinted in the darkness,
my God, what distress I am in.
Look at the copper and the gold,
look at the jester that I am,
for the treasure slips away
and this weakens me,
it enriches the bandit,
the nostalgia for the Tagus [note – river that runs through Lisbon],
the inventory of the plunder,
my love, give me a kiss,
take me away from my senses,
and there I go, defenseless.
When at times I set before my eyes
the terrible hardships, the dangers I've been through,
the damned, endless hell I've faced,
a prayer rises to my mouth,
my whole soul trembles,
it burns, screams, goes mad, and rises to my mouth,
a bitterness of death chills my body,
a great fear, my God,
that bursts in my chest,
only my heart breathes perfect loves,
which I don't even tell in secret,
which I erased from the plot,
in a patched-together Latin,
which I don't even tell.
When at times I set before my eyes
snakes, lizards, giant monsters, horrible, mangy,
the delirium of rivers,
of burning jungles,
of the fever that burns, that kills,
land in sight, watch out,
spy like a merchant,
here I am a benefactor,
assault like a thief,
look at the breach in the hull,
look at your crew,
if only I were far away,
impugna l'ascia,
essere un angelo, essere un monaco,
resisti canaglia,
visto che sei il più emarginato.
Da Lisbona alle Indie,
dalla Tartaria al Siam,
dalla Cina all'Etiopia,
da Ormuz al Giappone,
[passando] per il Capo del Mondo,
l'ho scampata per un pelo.
Dall'Isola Pazza
all'Arabia Felice,
sono di tutti i colori,
le passioni, gli ardori,
nel vortice del desiderio,
love appeased,
stretched out among the mats,
in the ship's hold,
the dream overflows.
When at times I set before my eyes
wars, assaults and screams,
blood that spurts, that floods,
the Turks, blessed lady,
thrown into the sea to drown,
beating pots,
may the devil take them,
chattering infidels,
sons of Muhammad,
woe to your blindness,
the harquebus fires,
in the wake of the affront,
imbavaglia lo schiavo,
prego per la rivalsa,
sei un crociato, sei un prode,
dai peccati innumerevoli.
Tra fischi e grida,
con le mani alzate,
trema il buon gesuita,
ah, Gesù, che confusione,
in poco più [del tempo] di due Credo,
duemila morti a terra,
a combattere un milione,
affondati dal sangue,
schioccano mille schiaffi
sul sedere di un cafro,
il nibbio sorvola
six heads split open,
many wounds and sores,
in a great massacre,
amid insults and curses,
pots of urine rain down,
twenty-three drowned,
thirty-four missing,
naked and kneeling,
not counting the wounded,
running down the legs
trickles poor me. [note – basically, he soils himself in terror at what he's witnessing]
From Kedah to Sumatra,
from Malacca to Beijing,
running away as fast as their legs can carry them,
quando il ponte [della nave] esplode
si perdono oro e guadagno,
argento fino e salute,
ma che la gloria santa mi assista,
nel rendere grazie a Dio,
misericordia infinita,
perché io non mi lamento
se dopo tanti tormenti
ne sono uscito vivo,
sia lodato il Signore,
santi apostoli, possa io vivere tra i mortali,
poiché non ho meritato di più,
per via dei miei grandi peccati.

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19/10/2026