Full circle
Dutch and Cape-Verdean singer Nelson Freitas on the growth and popularity of African culture across the world.
Promo still from "Plena" by Nelson Freitas and Julinho KSD © 2023.
- Interview by
- Boima Tucker
Cape Verdean music is currently evolving in new and exciting directions. Artists from the islands, and in the widely dispersed diaspora, are promoting their culture through the musical genres introduced to the world by legends of Afropop such as Cesária Évora, mixing it with electronic techniques and hip-hop-tinged aesthetics. Nowhere is this more evident than in the melting pot of Lisbon, where Cape Verdeans brush up against migrants from around the Portuguese-speaking world, representing their own cultural roots while dabbling in the folk and popular musics of Brazil, Angola, Mozambique, São Tomé, and more. It was in Lisbon where we found Nelson, who had himself relocated to the epicenter of lusophone culture from Rotterdam, Netherlands, some years ago.
Nelson, an important innovator in the genres of zouk and kizomba that are hugely popular in francophone and lusophone worlds, came to prominence by adding harder, urban aesthetics into the softer, romantic sounds of the French Caribbean. His recent work is dabbling in the more pan-African-oriented styles being pushed into the mainstream via Nigeria and South Africa. The following is an excerpt of our conversation with Nelson over video chat, touching on everything from his origins as an artist in the Cape Verdean community of Rotterdam, to the growth and popularity of African culture across the world, generally.
I just want to start out, for our audience who might not be familiar with you, can you just tell us a little bit about your life, like where you’re from? You’re based in Lisbon now, but you were born in the Netherlands?
So my name is Nelson Freitas. I was born in Holland, in the Netherlands, in Rotterdam. My parents are from Cape Verde. Moved to Lisbon about nine years ago. Almost nine years ago. The reason I moved is my music really kicked off in PALOP [Portuguese Speaking African Countries] such as Mozambique, Angola, Cape Verde, you know. And I was traveling so much, coming from Holland always to Portugal, from Portugal to all those other countries to make the connection. And I spent a lot of time in the air, and I was like, “You know what? Let me just move a little bit closer” Where the weather is always nice anyway. We speak the language. So that worked out because I was literally in the middle of everything where it’s going on, and all my business associates would always travel to Portugal as well. So that’s basically the reason I moved to Portugal. And I’ve been in music for quite a while now. I was in a group, we did four albums. And as a solo act—I keep losing count, because I’ve also produced for a lot of people, co-wrote and wrote a lot of songs for other people. So I tend to lose count of how many albums I have myself. This is my seventh, if I’m correct.
I want to go back a little bit and say, what was it like for you growing up in the Netherlands in a Cape Verdean household? Was there a big Cape Verdean community? And then how did you get exposed to Cape Verdean music and culture? And, I assume, food and language and these kinds of things.
Yeah, there was a lot of music involved in the household. My parents moved to Holland. My mom was 15, and she did not speak the language at all. So the music was a way to connect with the home country, you know? They felt the need to stay connected in the house. My father and mother spoke Creole from Cabo Verde. That’s how I learned. And in Rotterdam, there’s a big community of Cape Verdean people because of the harbors. You know, Cape Verdeans used to travel a lot on boats and work on the boats, and then eventually ended up staying in Holland, in Rotterdam. In the USA there’s a big community also because of the harbors in the Boston-Providence area. So the community was big. I got in touch with the community very early through parties, you know. They always used to seek out each other on any given party, you know, a birthday or bar mitzvah. [Laughs.] No, not bar mitzvah. What I’m saying is any party Cape Verdeans would come together. And there would be music; there would be Cape Verdean food. There would be a lot of culture that they implemented in those parties. Also to give that to us as well. Now, besides that, the moment they had a chance to travel back to Cape Verde for holidays, all the Cape Verdeans go back. So I got to feel the culture at a very young age. I was one year old, so I don’t remember much of that journey. But when I was 10, that’s when I really felt like, wow, this is home, this is where my parents come from, this is where they all speak the same language. And everybody’s outside. Everybody’s playing, and everybody’s happy. There’s a lot of music, there’s guitars, pianos all over the place—it’s crazy. So basically, that was kind of my youth, you know. It was warm. Let me put it this way.
Going to Lisbon now, Lisbon is kind of a different beast in terms of Cape Verdean diaspora and actually African diaspora in general. How would you characterize Lisbon as kind of like a hub of African culture today?
It’s very big, because besides Cape Verdean people, you have a lot of people from Angola, you have a lot of people from Mozambique, Guinea-Bissau. So it’s a mixture of all those different countries that makes it very interesting, because you have a lot of small places where they play live music and you have the bigger concerts. You have all the people that concentrated here because everybody wanted to blow up in Portugal, because blowing up in Portugal means that you’ve succeeded, in a way. You know, it’s, let’s say, the America for PALOP music. So, the community here is big, but it’s very spread out, because it’s so big out here. So, it’s different than in Holland. Where in Rotterdam, Cape Verdeans, they knew exactly where everybody was, and they would come together on every occasion. But here there’s so much going on. But then again, it’s really good because there’s so much going, which means there’s a lot of work for us artists, you know, performing here, performing there. It’s all over the place.
So tell me about Ghetto Zouk. Ghetto Zouk was based out of where?
Rotterdam.
Oh, it was a Rotterdam label, okay.
Ghetto zouk was actually a genre that was created literally based off the style that me and my uncle used to produce. We took the zouk, which was always very soft and very clean, the sound, and we implemented hip hop drums, drum kits to that, in order for it to be a little bit more cool, more bouncy. And that became ghetto zouk, simply because I use the word “ghetto zouk” in one song, and people took that and made it a genre.
Can you talk to me a little bit then about your music? And I would say that zouk/kizomba is a style of music that has been contested throughout the years, if you will, by a purist streak. And there’s always these debates about who it belongs to. But I feel like from the perspective of producers or artists, there’s always been an intention to add different mixes and appeal to different audiences and add different kinds of national identities. How does that feel as an artist, to see the audiences fight these kinds of debates?
You know, it’s funny to see that, to be honest. Me, I never enter in any of those debates, because truth be told, I don’t really know. Who was the inventor of zouk? Who? There was never written a book about it. Some people claim it. Other people claim that they created kizomba. And then it was. I don’t know. There’s so many names to it, you understand? So, seeing people debating over that—me, I’m just like, y’all fight over the bone, and I’m just going around. I’m just doing my own thing, you know what I’m saying? Like, I can honestly say that the word “ghetto zouk” came from me. But if you listen to ghetto zouk, it’s just a mixture of everything [that] was going on already. I didn’t invent anything. You know, I’m inspired by what I hear. I mean, I think everything has been done anyway. Everybody’s inspired by something or by someone. So, to debate over a genre, I think you got to go really, really back to the ancestors to know where that started from. Probably in a house somewhere, somebody started drumming on something, and they called it zouk or kizomba. We don’t know. So, for me, it’s just funny to see that. I don’t meddle.
So how would you describe your music then? If you had to put a label, would you still call it ghetto zouk? Or has it evolved to something different?
Here’s the thing, here’s the beauty of it. Because of these debates and what they represent when they would ask, “What is it that you do?” It was always hard to say what it was. Now, in a way, I think it’s easy, because Afrobeats became so big. It’s very easy to put it under the Afrobeats umbrella, because it’s Afro, African. There’s a beat to it. You understand? And in Afrobeats, you have a lot of different genres. So, I would say it’s definitely under the umbrella of Afrobeats. Now, is it more danceable? Is it more fast? Is it more slow? Let’s just call it Afrobeats.
What’s interesting to me is that, sometimes the influence of you guys, of the PALOP kizomba, zouk crews and scenes, definitely has an influence on the Nigerian scene. And I think that’s sometimes not recognized. I can even think of some big Nigerian [artists], like Waconzy, [who] just straight up did a kompa instrumental.
But even “On the Low” by Burna Boy—when I heard that, I was like, “Wow, that could have been a song that I did.”
So, in some way you’re kind of reapproaching it or reclaiming it as something that you’ve been involved with the whole time. Can you tell me about your strategy with this new album?
Basically what you just said, it’s exactly that. We’ve been building for so long. We’ve been building for so long, knocking on doors of the labels, and nobody believing in it. And all of a sudden you have this big stream of Nigerians coming out like Burna Boy and Wizkid and Rema, who’ve been doing their thing influenced by [us] as well. So, for me to step away from it now would not make sense. So, like you said, I’m reclaiming. I’m reclaiming it how? By, you know, truth be told. Like, again, “On the Low” from Burna Boy was produced by Kel-P Vibes. What he did to it, he just polished it. He just got the right ingredients to it. You understand? And we were just, you know, trying to make that cake and put a little bit of salt, put a little bit of this, put a little bit of sugar, put a little bit of that, and probably we didn’t always get the right formula. I sometimes hit it in a right away, but not like [in a] mainstream way. And that song for me was the perfect mainstream song. Now, my strategy is, okay, let’s go full circle. I’m knocking on Kel-P Vibes’s door. [Knocks on table.] “Hey, what’s going on, bro? I’m Nelson.” [He] said, “I know you are. I see you.” “Okay. Let’s work.” So, on my new album, I got a song with Kel-P. You know, I’m working with Ozedikus, who did songs for Rema. I’m working with [Blaise Beatz], who’s doing a lot for Adekunle Gold. When I heard that sound, I was like, “Bro, that could fit me so well.” So the song “Hero” is with [Blaise Beatz].
Did you go to Nigeria?
No, I just hit them up—you know, internet. Internet is a blessing these days. We never actually met. I did meet Kel-P; he’s actually in Portugal right now. I am meeting his manager tomorrow, just to go over some things for the future. But most of them I haven’t even met. But the beauty is, when you hit them up, when I hit them up, they’ve heard of [me], you understand? So, I’m not reaching anything out of our reach. And even for them, what I’ve learned is they work with so much people from Nigeria, they are looking for that challenge to work with other people.
Coming from Rotterdam, being Cape Verdean, and then probably you grew up speaking Dutch in school—what made you decide to sing in Creole and English in your work? And do you sing at all in Dutch? And what was that decision like? Were you trying to cross over way early to a more global audience? Or is that just something that you identified with?
I definitely identified with Crioulo. When I started doing music, Dutch [people] were doing Dutch music. It was white people doing Dutch music. That changed, because the urban scene took over. Now, a few years ago, maybe nine or 10 years ago—
Just to clarify, you’re talking about when you were in the group when you were younger?
Yeah. So, Crioulo. It was never even a thought like, “Should I go Dutch or should I go Crioulo?” No. It was immediately Crioulo, because that’s what we listened to. That’s the feeling that we got when we went to Cape Verde. We listen to the music that was playing out there. It was a whole feeling, you understand? Now, the reason I started singing [in] English is because most of the people in Holland would say, “Wow, I love the vibe!” You know, my friends [would say], “I love the vibe. I just don’t understand it.” And then I was like, you know what? Let me keep the vibe and sing in English. And that’s when it started really picking up, you understand? So when I started singing in English, now I’m traveling to Mozambique, which is connected to South Africa, and they are connected to the Crioulo and the English. In Holland I’m doing shows. Now, I’m doing shows in the USA. I’m doing shows in Europe, other countries, you understand? So that was in the group. And when I went solo, I implemented even more English to the point where this album that I did now, I think, is 90 percent English.
Cape Verdean music, like what you talked about, is really beyond just urban music. You have Cesária Évora, and now you have this new, younger generation, like Mayra [Andrade] and Dino [D’Santiago] in Lisbon. Can you just comment quickly on new Cabo Verde music and the younger people coming up, and what do you observe from that?
Again, other people have paved the way for us. When I say us, it’s me, it’s all these artists that you just named. And everybody’s trying to—not even trying, but yeah, you’re trying to find your space in the market by being [the] most authentic and true to yourself as you can be, and still bring it to the world, like, make it popular. That’s my take on it and how I see it. And the artists that you just named, like Dino and Mayra—there’s a few more—they’re doing such a great job at it. Like, Dino is this whole vibe of, you know, bringing the people together, and his show is so dynamic because he’s alone on stage, but his visuals, and his performance is so captivating, and you don’t even miss a band. Now, [with] my sound that wouldn’t happen—it’s different. You know, then you have a Mayra, her voice—just her voice and the guitar fills arenas, because she has such a beautiful voice. So nobody is trying to do nothing that nobody else is doing, they’re just being themselves. And it’s working, and it’s elevating the culture. It’s elevating the music; it’s elevating the sound. We’re never going to forget Cesária Évora. But we don’t want to copy Cesária Évora. You know, it’s what people back in the days used to say when I used to blend all the styles together. They would say, “This is not Cape Verdean music anymore.” It is. It’s just me singing in Crioulo with a different way of bringing it. You know? If you listen to the music from 30 years ago, people from 60 years ago would say, “Ah, it’s not the same.” We gotta evolve. You know, you’re influenced by so many things these days that it’s just different. But it doesn’t take away from the essence, you know? That’s my take on it.
So today there’s an industry around kizomba, kizomba festivals and these kinds of things that take after this idea of salsa festivals and conferences. Has that changed [things]? And do you think that’s aided by the internet? Was that a phenomenon that happened in conjunction with the internet? Or how do you see that? And how has it benefited your career?
To be completely honest, it’s a parallel world for us. Because, we go out, we perform all over the world, but it’s club vibes, it’s festivals, it’s not in the kizomba dance world. They have their own world. There, the dances are the stars, not the artists, you know. They love the music, [but] they don’t know who’s singing most of the time. Maybe by now they know, but back in the day, they never would know who’s singing. They just love the song. They love to dance. They want to know who is the good dancer. You understand? So, how did it benefit [us]? Maybe today it’s because they listen to the music, they’re streaming it, they love it, you know. What I do feel is [that] they are very loyal, because from the shows that I’ve done in those communities, the kizomba communities, it’s a lot of love. It’s people from all over the world. It’s so much love, and it’s so clean. There’s no fights. You know? It’s just about dancing. And when you say, “Guys, we here, I got merchandise,” they buy. I got CDs they will stand in line and buy. You don’t do that in a club. These people just want to party, have fun, and be out. You know, it’s a different world. But I think they help each other, you know? Both worlds are needed for the music to grow.
So, I have one more question. This is going to be kind of my bonus challenge question. And I’m not looking for a correct answer, but I’m just wondering your thoughts on [it]. You mentioned that there’s a big Cape Verdean community in the East Coast [of the US], in Boston and Providence. But the success that you enjoyed in Europe and in Africa, kind of wasn’t, throughout the years, repeated [in North America] on a continental scale, at least before the kizomba scene started coming along. Why do you think there was a difference? What do you think that difference was between the diaspora in Europe and the diaspora in the US? In terms of having an impact on the greater culture [of the nation].
I think, like you said, there’s no correct answer to that. From my perspective, USA was a whole different ball game. You know, we didn’t even know [this] back in the days, but for USA, to work you need a work visa. And most of us would just go to USA and perform without knowing, because that’s what we do all over the world. Now, most of the artists that went there to perform got sent back. Goodbye. How do you say it?
Immigration? ICE?
Yeah. And that [information] started spreading, and then we were like, “Oh, damn. Wait a minute, we need a work visa? Oh… Eh, I’ll just go here and go there and go there. We’ll leave USA for later,” you understand? And then again, when you say work visa, it’s a hassle. It’s a lot of things that you need to do to get a work visa. I do have one now, but it took me, like, forever to get it. So I’ve done a few shows at the Dunkin’ Donuts Center, which has huge, big shows, that we did two years ago. [I’m] actually doing my next show on April 20th. Just for you to know already right here firsthand. April 20th. It’s a festival called Nexus Fest.
In what city?
It’s in Providence. It’s at the Dunkin’ Donuts Center—it’s got a new name now [Amica Mutual Pavilion]—but it’s a festival that I’m creating with two partners of mine, you know, to uplift the culture more. But for me, that’s probably one of the reasons that [the music] didn’t explode that much over there. Now people are getting the paperwork in order, so there’s way more shows out there, so it’s spreading way faster.
And that’s all I have. I want to thank you for joining us, and best of luck with your efforts. I really hope that you’re able to bridge that gap with this project.
Yeah. Thank you. Appreciate it.
