She is introduced. The lights go down. Three guitarists take their places and begin to play in the half-light, a slow, tragic tune with an oompah one-two beat. Mariza floats in slowly from the far side, an impossibly tall, slim, stately shadow moving smoothly, like a manikin on wheels, towards centre-stage, her teeth and platinum cloche hairstyle shining. She utters the phrases of her song in a rich, clear, powerful voice. I don’t understand Portuguese, but it sounds like she can hardly bear the emotion in the story she is telling. The audience goes wild. Mariza is happy and gracious.

Enter the cellist who adds the sound of weeping for a while. Then the tune goes up-tempo and spontaneously the audience begins clapping. Mariza gestures regally and the clapping stops; she goes into a slow swaying dance gesturing elegantly with her arms as she sings about ‘Lisboa’. Enter a string trio: violin, viola, and cello. Mariza thanks us, her friends, warmly, for coming. She explains that her third album, Transparent, is still Fado, but is becoming more and more her Fado.