A festival is like a short-lived love affair. It’s dense, heated, at time poignant and mostly fun… It channels the same burst of intense emotions with a lot of expectations upfront; with some overwhelming decisions to make as if choosing what to wear, but here what to see and in which order with a childlike discomfort of missing out when forced to bed...
And finally when things kickstart, whatever felt a hassle to mastermind the second before, sets in free flow. all of a sudden, beats resonate and get your body to sway, lyrics distil instant connivence, and the artists’ own fears and thrills spread extra layers of heatwave with the proximity of others swinging loosely, and, a second after, not even high yet, all remaining barriers drop and here you are, suave and smooth in the now, live and alive, sharing the intimacy only travellers share without much words, exulting a stream of smoke and a little smirk that says, yes, dude… we are buddies. It’s a collective 3D ephemeral vortex in which we whirl, we roam, we curl in for warmth, and play out our wildest self teased in wonder by the many discoveries.
That’s why I love the first hours, virgin and full of promises of a moment to convulse. The site groomed is still half empty – shading with ostentation from daylight… already a movie set, until soon, a first protagonist hits the stage.
And that’s Real Guns aka Ovilton Fernandes Santiago raised in Sào Tomé [1988], who behind giant sunglasses veiled by a bandana, enters the stage with a side purse, and fearlessly builds the first ripple of groove. The sun goes down incandescent, the joints already burn one's fingers, the night is still too young…
#music #visualarts #performances #urban #cultures #experiences #matinha #lisboa #portugal #diversity #inclusion #visibility
