In the Bar, After Church

This evening Cathy and I went to the Igreza de Sao Nicola to see a choir sing a Christmas concert. I was not exactly reluctant, but something in me gets a little nervy when I feel like I'm poking around in someone's church, especially when those people are there, going to church. But I'm glad I got over it, because the music we heard made me feel pretty good about being there. Five seconds into the first song I realized my mouth was hanging open. I felt like I understood why all churches are shaped around this long high arch (the acoustics!), and I sat rapt for the next hour and a half.

They performed a repertoire of traditional Portuguese songs in the first part, and then after a break they sang two in English before finishing with a trio of Portuguese songs. The harmonies upon harmonies and the changes in pitch and volume were all staggering in beauty and intensity. The crowd (congregation?) started out pretty thin, which had me pretty surprised--though I'm not sure why; with the number of churches in this town, I imagine all of these things can't draw big numbers. But, within the first couple songs, the pews filled considerably and the choir got the ovations they deserved. Glad I came along.

Cathy took some photos and some video of it. The paintings are on the cieling of the church (no flash, camera in her lap), and the statues are along the side. If we can get it posted, check that high note just past the half-way point. It was amazing.

So, after church, just to balance things out, I headed back to Bar Lisboa, a very cool little jazz pub on the edge of the Bairro Alto, just up the hill from where we're staying. I first came in here a few days ago, convinced there was no bar or pub life in this town--only clubs or cafeterias. I was wrong. It's a dimly lit high-ceilinged room with a half-dozen tables and a bar, along with a continuous stream of really great jazz music.

I sat and wrote in my journal for a while, and eventually struck up some conversation with the bartender, Nunes, who was eager enough to talk about the music they were playing. He and his brother Carlos co-owned the bar, Carlos also ran Trem Azul Records, a jazz label based in Lisbon--"The ONLY all-jazz label in all of Portugal!" Carlos proudly proclaims. So I spent the rest of that first night here scribbling in my journal and talking to these guys about every track they played, DJ-style with headphones back behind the bar, bringing the CD cases out and plunking them, conspiratorally, on the table in front of me.

"Carlos Gonzales, you know him. From Texas, yes?"
"Yep, from Dallas I think."
Then a squinty-eyed smile, head nodding, a murmured "Greeeaaat," and back behind the bar. It was a fantastic night here, meeting and talking to these guys and getting a solid fix of great new music. Who knew there was so much outstanding jazz being produced in Portugal?

After a good few hours of this, warmed in the belly now and still somewhat entranced by the music we heard earlier at the church, I moseyed down the hill toward home, humming some crazy Ken Vandermark tune, loving Lisbon thoroughly.