It seemed almost destined that our interview with Gal Tamir, the lead singer, songwriter and founding member of the heritage-driven and forward-looking quartet Al’Fado, took place in Setúbal. Located just 50 kilometres south of Lisbon, Setúbal is rich in Judeo-Sephardic heritage and renowned for its deep-rooted fado tradition. In October, this vibrant Portuguese coastal city hosted EXIB Música, a four-day expo that brought together artists and music professionals from the Ibero and Luso-American regions. Together with Gal, we chose a café overlooking Convento de Jesus Square, with one of the city’s best-known 15th-century landmarks in view. Setúbal’s Sephardic past made it a fitting place for the conversation.
The rich historical and cultural backdrop naturally introduces Al’Fado. The quartet is an Israeli-Portuguese ensemble based in Lisbon, blending the sounds of medieval Hebrew communities from the Iberian Peninsula with fado and flamenco. Performing in Ladino, an ancient language that combines Spanish, Portuguese and Hebrew, they bring these musical traditions to new audiences. The group brings together distinct voices: Gal on vocals and clarinet, Avishay Back on bass guitar, João Roque on guitar, and Diogo Melo de Carvalho on percussion. Their collaboration gives Al’Fado its distinctive sound.
On the final day of EXIB Música, just before the morning showcases at the monastery, Gal spoke about how Al’Fado began, how the group’s sound took shape, and how its members approach tradition, arrangement and audience response.
“Al’Fado, based in Portugal, consists of Portuguese and Israeli members,” Gal began. “Active since 2019, we have performed throughout Europe and Israel, with plans to broaden our reach. Our debut album, Birth, Nascimento, released in late 2022, brings together elements from Ladino Sephardi cultures and fado, shaped by a range of musical influences that allow us to interpret these genres in our own way.”
The idea began taking shape around 2016. “Our goal was to introduce Sephardic music to Portugal, where it was underrepresented, yet linguistically close to Portuguese, which meant it could resonate with local audiences,” he continued. “Given our base in Portugal, incorporating fado was a natural step. Once the idea emerged, we decided to include fado, which is perhaps the most internationally recognised Portuguese music. We knew the project would extend beyond local borders, so including this Portuguese element seemed fitting.”
The formation emerged organically, starting with a conversation between Gal and Avishai, the bass player. “The concept originated between myself and Avishai, our bassist,” Gal explained. “Soon after, we welcomed a percussionist and a guitarist. Our guitarist, from Lisbon, typically blends jazz, rock and folk, with a touch of flamenco. However, he was relatively unfamiliar with Sephardic traditions, music or the language, much like our percussionist, who is also from Lisbon. Our percussionist has a deep engagement with music from the Far East, having studied tablas extensively and spent his academic years in the UK, combining those influences with modern pop and rock in his current projects.”
For Gal, the essence of Al’Fado’s success lies in the personal bonds among its members. “Before music, our fundamental connection is human. We experimented with various group configurations, and some potential members didn’t share our vibe, so we moved on. It’s akin to forming a relationship. When you connect with someone personally, it fosters trust and opens your mind.”
Even the band’s Israeli members were initially unfamiliar with Sephardi music. “Sephardi music was almost completely unknown to Avishai and me, the Israeli, Jewish part of the group, because we are both Ashkenazi Jews,” Gal said. “It wasn’t part of our personal heritage or family traditions. Although familiar as a concept in Israel and to Jewish people in general, we had barely explored it, if at all.”
Their exploration of the genre grew out of the potential they saw in Portugal and in the connections between fado and Ladino, the traditional language of Sephardi music. “The connection points between fado and Ladino are numerous, resonating with themes of both styles.”
Gal sees fado as music that emerges directly from common life, much like Sephardi folk traditions. “No artist was exploring this in Portugal, and here we were, right in the heart of it. The languages are very similar, and they share a lot even without deep exploration. There are many thematic connections between fado music and Ladino that link back to the Sephardi culture. Given the geographical origins of both styles, this overlap makes sense. I think of fado, which is celebrated as a national cultural heritage, not as music developed in concert halls or academic circles, but as one that originated among the common people, in bars and on the streets, truly folk in the classic sense. Sephardi music shares this grassroots origin.”
He described the development of Ladino among Andalusian Jews as a linguistic bridge, combining ancient Castilian with Hebrew elements tied to everyday life and religious practice. “Ladino was developed to circumvent the fact that Hebrew wasn’t used as a vernacular; it was reserved like Latin for prayers and synagogue use. In Andalusia, the Jews created a local language based on ancient Castilian to facilitate everyday communication, yet it included many Hebrew terms related to their unique traditions and mirrored much of their daily life.”
He then pointed to another parallel between Ladino and fado in their recurring themes, particularly the sea. “There are common elements related to holidays, rituals and significant life events such as deaths, births and marriages. A particularly strong motif in both Ladino and fado is the sea. It acts as an allegory and a creator of drama, symbolising travel and nomadism. These are themes that recur, showing that despite the apparent differences, these cultures converge on very specific elements that make sense when you delve into them.”
During performances, Gal often makes those cultural links explicit. “In our concerts, I often juxtapose songs like ‘Barco Negro,’ famously popularised in Portugal by Mário Rodrigues, with a Ladino song called ‘La Serena.’ ‘Barco Negro,’ though not a traditional fado, originated from Brazil and tells the tale of a young girl gazing out to sea, pining for her lover who has sailed away. As she wonders about their future, older women on the beach scoff, telling her he’s gone for good. She dismisses them, feeling his presence all around her.”
For Gal, the pairing brings those parallels into focus. “This song has become a significant piece in the fado world. We pair it with ‘La Serena,’ which may have originated from the Greek or Turkish Jewish Sephardic community. ‘La Serena’ depicts Serena as a muse for sailors, a distant, almost mythical figure of beauty and tragedy, reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet. These narratives, rich with longing and saudade, underscore the profound connections between the cultures we explore.”
Al’Fado’s approach moves away from strict traditional treatment. “I think we almost never perform to an audience that knows everything we are doing. Those familiar with Sephardic music might not know fado, and vice versa. Our goal is to blend these elements seamlessly,” Gal explained. “Our versions of Ladino and fado songs often incorporate similar musical elements, creating a cohesive experience for our audience and helping them bridge the gap to unfamiliar sounds. However, our treatments are far from traditional, often taking the music in entirely new directions.”
That approach sometimes draws criticism from listeners who prefer established versions. “People sometimes prefer the traditional versions, which we fully understand and respect. Our goal isn’t to replicate traditional music but to reinterpret it, to offer something uniquely Al’Fado that might open new avenues of musical appreciation.”
The question of authenticity comes up within that process. “Discussions around authenticity in music can be quite complex, but our focus is on exploration and reinterpretation, not mere reproduction.”
Audience response remains the real measure of the music, especially in performance. “We make it a point to engage with our audience after concerts; their feedback is invaluable. It tells us whether our music has truly touched them, whether it has made a meaningful impact. For me, the real value of our music lies in its ability to connect. If it doesn’t reach people, if it doesn’t evoke something significant in them, then all our efforts are in vain.”
Listeners are often more direct online, where questions of tradition and authenticity surface more plainly. “People feel much more comfortable sharing their thoughts online, even if they’re blunt. It’s rare, but I’ve occasionally heard comments preferring traditional versions, which I completely accept. We aren’t trying to replicate traditional styles; we aim to innovate them. Sometimes, this can challenge listeners who are accustomed to conventional renditions, like a Ladino song we performed that received mixed reactions. When we get feedback about preferring ‘authentic’ versions, it opens up a broader conversation about what authenticity means in music that spans centuries. An ethnomusicologist colleague of mine gets quite upset about rigid views on what’s considered ‘authentic.’ But for us, it’s not about sticking to tradition; it’s about evolving it. Ladino, for example, isn’t just a music genre, it’s a rich language, much like Italian, that spans a variety of styles and regions. Our approach is to use these rich traditions as foundations to create something new, with our unique aesthetic.”
That connection with listeners remains central to how he judges the work. “The reactions we receive are crucial. They tell us if we’re on the right path, making a difference in people’s lives. After every show, we make sure to be available for anyone who wants to talk; these interactions are incredibly important. If our music doesn’t resonate, then it’s as if it has no value at all. It needs to reach out and touch people, not just sound out into the void. If the music I make doesn’t resonate with others, then it’s as if it exists only for me, defeating its purpose. Making music that connects and resonates, that’s what drives us forward.”
Gal also recalled his early experiences with fado. “When I first started working with fado, the prospect of arranging it was daunting. Fado is revered here in Portugal, and as a newcomer, I felt almost unqualified. At the beginning, I was very cautious about engaging with fado material. Even years later, I still feel there’s much to learn about its language, culture, heritage and interpretations.”
At first, he deferred to his Portuguese bandmates in shaping the arrangements. “At first, I let the Portuguese guys handle the arrangements while I followed their lead, not wanting to overstep.”
His relationship with fado developed through local musicians and venues. “I’ve been fortunate to find welcoming spaces in small tascas where fado is lived, not just performed. These places allowed someone like me, an outsider, to engage directly with fado. The openness of fado musicians, who embrace those of us not born into this tradition, was enlightening. This contrasts with the wider music industry, which often seems more judgmental and resistant to new ideas.”
Despite resistance from parts of the industry, the group has also found support. “Ultimately, what matters most to me is the audience’s reception. We’ve faced some resistance from the media and industry, but we’ve also received considerable support and recognition. Our debut album was endorsed by Antena One, a major national network. This wasn’t just a minor win; it was a significant affirmation that our persistence and quality can resonate broadly.”
Living in Lisbon continues to shape Al’Fado’s work. “Lisbon’s music scene is immensely rich and incredibly versatile. It mirrors what I and the rest of Al’Fado believe in, embracing a vast array of musical influences, languages and daring interpretations. Lisbon is a soup of cultures, Brazilian, South American, African. These influences actively shape our music.”
That mix has pushed the group towards a wider musical range, whether in bringing Brazilian choro into a fado arrangement or North African and Caribbean elements into a Ladino piyyut. “These adaptations are about making the music aesthetically pleasing while staying true to the song’s essence. If it enhances the song, if it feels right, we embrace it fully. Just as the fado community has occasionally adopted me, allowing me to sing in a fado house, we also want to adopt and adapt musical styles that enrich our sound and resonate with our audience.”
Looking ahead, Gal’s excitement about their next project is evident. “We have an exciting album planned for release in spring 2025, currently titled ‘Bridges’ or ‘Pontes’ in Portuguese and Ladino. Building bridges has been central to our work from the start, aiming to foster intercultural connections through our music, languages and the diverse musical traditions we explore.”
Recent global events, he said, have sharpened that focus. “The past few years, marked by the pandemic and political unrest, have reinforced our commitment to counter cultural and linguistic isolation. It’s not just about unity; it’s about creating more connections, something the world increasingly needs.”
He described that ambition in broader terms. “Our calling as artists is to bring a voice that isn’t just verbal. It’s an artistic, emotional, multi-sensory voice that calls for deeper ideas beyond the surface, like a beacon in the darkness. We aim to create those bridges, those connections. I think it’s almost our crusade to do that, this is almost our mission, our destiny, our calling. This guides everything we do, from the music we make to the personal connections we forge, the places we visit, the languages we speak and the musical influences we embrace.”
He then introduced one of the group’s more intimate pieces, the lullaby “Durme Mi Angelico”, or “Sleep My Angel”. “This lullaby, though soothing, carries a heavy message. It speaks to the darker, graver realities of life, trying to shield the listener from those truths. In challenging times, finding a comforting voice, whether external or within ourselves, becomes crucial. This song, very intimate and less suited to large concerts, beautifully illustrates that while lullabies sound comforting, they often carry burdens.”
He then described the lyric more closely. “The singer, often a parent, sounds reassuring yet conveys a dark, grave reality, protecting the child from it. The lyrics of this Sephardi, Jewish Sephardi, Ladino song speak of a mother or father singing to their child, wishing them peace and protection from the horrors of the world. The child asks, ‘Why can I not hear your voice anymore? Why do you not sing to me?’ The mother responds, ‘Because my wings have been cut, and my voice has been silenced.’ It’s very emotional, even talking about it now.”
For more information about Al'Fado and their music, you can visit their official website as well as their Youtube, Instagram and Facebook profiles
Photo ©: Bart Vanoutrive