Dead Combo

Somewhere in the beginning of the 21st century, Dead Combo met around the corner, in Lisbon city, two wanderers, one a thin "fire horse" born in '66, a loner with a top hat and wrinkled face, the other, tall, born in 1970, who came from the dark world of jazz, starsign "dog." Both swore to avenge the dead and resuscitate the living.

Influenced by comics, they have misspent nostalgia in their pockets and the deaf soul lost in dark films. They play Lisbon, the city of the countryside, of the chimneys and of the white domes sceneries of a lost past, "fado," Western wanderer, everything together in a voodoo of emotions, the Tagus, the lovers that go different ways, abandoned angels on the crossroads of destiny, flowers with mixed up colours, saints, flaming chambers, naked guitars, spat and thrown to the street, basses on fire, top hats, chickens on the loose and things that roll in the street. There standing against the wall in the middle of all this mess, both of them biting apple sins, while looking at you. —Courtesy Calabash Music