Cryptic Affirmation: Fumaça Preta, Live in London

Performing as a trio tonight, the band were obviously itching to get going from the offset, as they took to the stage 10 minutes before their allocated headline slot. It instantly became clear that the group weren’t afraid of dabbling with a touch of theatricality, as Figueira emerged in a monkish white gown flanked by his two band mates, (Stuart Carter and James Porch of Brighton-based The Grits), who had opted for traditional vicar attire, complete with face paint and white collars. At first, I was sceptical to see how the group would be able to replicate their recorded sound in such a small outfit, especially without their usual live percussionist. As a result, singer and drummer Figueira’s role was further complicated with the added responsibility of triggering percussive loops from his position behind the kit. As such a pivotal part of the band’s rhythm section, on paper this seemed like quite an underwhelming substitute, especially considering the very visceral and immediate nature of the music. However, as the group dived headfirst into the opening track of the evening, “Ressaca da Gloria” (Gloria’s Hangover) without any of the rigidity you might have expected from pre-recorded elements, the group’s adaptability and experience playing together quickly became evident.

Immediately, I was struck by how different the band sounded live to the tape-heavy, acid-drenched jam sessions of their records. Maybe this was to be expected, but I was also struck at how little this fazed me. Fumaça Preta’s live incarnation felt like a new beast altogether, undiluted, unapologetic and fun as hell. Carter’s guitar playing was perhaps the most noticeable difference, still occupying Sabbath-esque, riff-heavy territory but without any of the stylistic sonic restraints (albeit good ones) of their recorded work. In a live setting, these big, bold (and somewhat joyfully obnoxious) guitar lines took on a new life of their own entirely, which I couldn’t help but thoroughly enjoy watching.

After running a few album tracks however, it became clear that the band weren’t opting for the safe route, as they proceeded to perform B-side material “Apelo” followed by a series of newly written tracks, including a 30 second ‘prog rock epic’ from their upcoming record. Only rarely addressing the crowd with such cryptic affirmations as ‘we’re much better people this year than we were last year’ the playfulness of the performance brought with it a new depth to Fumaça Preta that I hadn’t assumed from the recordings. Humour aside however, there was definitely a real mastery at play here and the sense of observing a group of musicians that knew each other’s playing intimately. This mastery was perhaps most evident with Figueira, who effortlessly commanded both the crowd and band from behind the kit, despite his admittedly very stretched role in the performance, and not to mention the fact that he was managing to do so in Portuguese with a largely English audience. Positioned at the front of the stage looking out over the crowd, he performed with a manic, wide-eyed expression on his face, as if trying to hold eye contact with everyone in the room at once, and daring them not to get sucked in.

Later highlights included the band’s frantic, incendiary funk jam, “La Trampa” (The Trap), where Carter ditched his guitar in favour of the single’s distressed organ lead line, and the descent into 2012 freak-out “A Bruxa”. In true style of the group, they encored with another unknown track, a fantastic unreleased jam titled “Ciao James”, which left the audience still eager for more after their lively 50 minute set. I’ve perhaps never been to a gig where the decision of whether to mosh or dance had felt so profoundly difficult. Fumaça Preta are certainly not an easy outfit to keep up with, and I’ll no doubt be needing to see them live again soon for a second attempt.