Ildo Lobo was so popular in Cabo Verde that when he died, all government offices in his native island of Sal closed for three days, and flags flew at half-mast. Yet, he also worked as a customs officer at the airport, a job he kept until he died at the age of 50.
This album transports me, not to Cabo Verde necessarily (a place I’ve never been to, and of which I don’t have much knowledge), but to a warm, summery night, in a small town somewhere, where there’s some sort of celebration and people of all ages are out and about; there are queues to get ice cream and everybody is wearing t-shirts and shorts. And I can see him, Ildo Lobo, on a stage, with a few musicians, singing these songs. And nobody is paying him much attention, except for a few senior couples who keep dancing to his stuff. It is the perfect soundtrack for that. I have lived some of those moments in my childhood and teenage years, and this album made me realise how much I miss those nights. That alone is worth a listen or two.