Ar De Nha Terra

A veteran singer-songwriter old enough to remember independence from Portugal, Paris-based Cape Verdean Jorge Humberto has a reputation as a man of literary gravitas. However, with the lyrics left untranslated from the Creole in the liner notes, the poetry of his words are likely to remain out of reach of most English speakers.

There’s certainly enough weathered, woebegone mystique in his voice, though it is occasionally overshadowed by cloying backing vocals and a tendency to melodrama in the music. It doesn’t always sit entirely comfortably with the otherwise ravishing understatement on ‘Bo Ausenqa, ‘Nu Nostalgia’ and standout track ‘Luz Dum Violão’, grounded in deserted-ballroom piano, Humberto’s guitar and Bau’s cavaquinho. Humberto’s lightning articulation on ‘Nem Tudo e Rosa’ momentarily transforms the Creole language into something startlingly fluid. The addition of accordion on keening opener ‘Antiguidade’ is a nice touch, and even the ethereal synth washes – dated as they are – somehow work. The same can’t be said for ‘Crisola’ or the water-treading ‘Na Magia D’Marginal’.

Too often it’s the case that the lacerating melancholy of solo performers in the bars, restaurants and streets of Cape Verde somehow fails to translate fully to the studio, compromised by over-egged production and misguided attempts at commercial appeal. And though Ar De Nha Terra is an intermittently evocative listen, it probably doesn’t fully reflect the experience of hearing Humberto in situ.