The Band
Sunk Ships is a resurrection of Lisbon’s forgotten underground.
At the turn of the 19th century, anonymous poets in the Bairro Alto wrote obscene, hilarious, and deeply human sonnets collected in the Cancioneiro do Bairro-Alto (Songs of the Bairro Alto). They wrote testimonies of sex, vice, and survival in the backstreets. Once performed in taverns and brothels, censored, and nearly lost, these verses now return as dream-pop, fado-swing, French touch disco, vaporwave novo-fado, and lo-fi dance hymns ~ all soaked in Saudade. English and Portuguese versions flow side by side, reframing the spirit of this lost Lisbon for contemporary ears.
This project is part translation, part reinvention, part act of cultural memory, all to keep faithful with the dirt and laughter of the originals, while letting them live again.
Background
When I lived in Cascais in the late 1990s, I haunted a used bookstore searching for books on Macau. One afternoon, while poking about the poetry section, I came across a weird book that was full of bad words ~ super bad mental mouthwash words, many of which I was not taught in my Portuguese language classes, and some I vaguely remember my grandmother muttering ~ in verse! I had to have it. The cover was slightly embarrassing since it featured a partially naked woman; however, the back cover had a list of books banned by “Fascist censorship,” and I knew I had something forbidden in my hands. I sheepishly brought it to the cashier, hiding it under a pile of other books. Without even a glance of disapproval, the book was flipped over, the pencilled-in price glanced at, and after a quick passing of a conto, the Cancioneiro do Bairro-Alto was mine.
The copy of the Cancioneiro do Bairro-Alto (CBA) I have is a 1960s reissue of an 1864 collection of “sonnets” and rogue fados from what was once Lisbon’s red-light district. The only changes between editions are in orthography. The author is anonymous, with speculation being that it was written by a monk. Needless to say, the book was banned during the Estado Novo and was an under-the-counter affair.
And then I summarily forgot about the book until I started reshelving books in my office.
The few academic papers featuring the book emphasize that it is an example of lowbrow literature, but it illustrates the argot and place that have otherwise been forgotten or not recorded elsewhere. Unlike popular music in today’s Portuguese, the Pimba, with its cheeky double entendres, most of the verse in CBA is direct, crude, and playful, often with winking irony. Since the songs in this book have not been sung in over a hundred years, I thought it would be a fun challenge to bring the book to both an English-speaking audience and to the listener of today.
Translation & Music
This project has two parts:
- Translate the text into English.
- Adapt both the original and its translation to music. (available on Spotify and other platforms)
- Publish the translation along with band photos in a pretty book.
There are well over a hundred compositions ~ watch this space over the next few months to hear the songs of Lisbon’s streetwalkers, houses of joy, and dandies.
Reflections & Album Notes
Album Notes: Uma Noite no Bairro Alto | A Night in Bairro Alto
Album Notes: Trovas d’um Fadista | The Bawdy Fadista