Fado is to Portugal what tango is to Argentina or flamenco to Andalusia: music with roots that reach deep down into the soul and spirit of a people. And, like tango and flamenco, fado is passionate and moody (usually melancholic), and no one is sure exactly when or how it originated. There are several theories. Some academics believe fado trickled down to the common folk from aristocratic society; others argue it was brought to Portugal by African slaves. The most prevalent view is that fado, which means "fate", developed out of the mournful songs of sailors. 

"I would agree that it is closely connected with the sea," says Mariza, the most celebrated of the new generation of fadistas ["fado singers"], on the line from Lisbon. "For me fado is more than music, it's a feeling." The emotion most closely associated with fado is saudade, a largely untranslatable Portuguese word whose meaning combines yearning and nostalgia. "And if you want to write about the ambiance, you could imagine a small, dark taverna, people drinking red wine, and the sound of the [12-stringed] Portuguese guitar."

For 60 years one woman dominated the genre. If you've ever heard a recording of fado, chances are that Amália Rodrigues was the singer. Rodrigues (Portugal's equivalent of Edith Piaf) died in 1999, and Mariza is being hailed as her successor. The 28-year-old shares a similarly powerful voice that can shift from a whisper to a cry. But while she's essentially a traditional fadista, Mariza gives her performances a contemporary and dramatic edge by incorporating creative lighting effects and carefully choreographed movement. Dressed in a long black gown, with a shawl [the fadista's xaile] draped over her otherwise bare shoulders, her hair close-cropped and sculpted into platinum-blond rows, the singer strikes a bold and elegant figure. 

Mariza was born in Mozambique, but her family moved to Portugal when she was a baby and settled in Mouraria, a neighbourhood of Lisbon closely associated with fado. She began interpreting its songs, in her own way, at the age of four or five. She would join in the singing in the restaurant and fado house that her parents ran and became rapidly immersed in the culture. Mariza gained a strong local reputation as a singer. "Growing up in the traditional ambiance, that's what makes a fadista," she says.

Fado's popularity has not been constant. The genre was promoted by Portugal's 20th-century dictators Antonio Salazar and Marcello Caetano, and it declined after the overthrow of the fascist regime as a result of Portugal's 1974 Carnation Revolution. This partial eclipse ended with the outpouring of feeling throughout the country upon the demise of Rodrigues. Mariza received her first serious exposure when she appeared at major tribute concerts for the great singer, held in Lisbon and Oporto. Both events were broadcast live on TV, and Mariza's impassioned performances caught the attention of a nation.

Two years ago Mariza released her first recording, Fado em Mim (Fado in Me). It proved an unprecedented success, and she began touring Europe and North America, drawing sellout crowds and earning raves. Earlier this year Mariza won the BBC Radio 3 Award for World Music in the category for Europe. I caught her at the WOMEX trade fair in Essen, Germany, last October, where she and her trio delivered a brilliant set. For the encore Mariza materialized amid the audience on the dance floor, where she performed without amplification. It was a bravura ending from a young artist with class to spare.

On tour, Mariza--who makes her B.C. debut at the Mission Folk Festival (held in Fraser River Heritage Park) this weekend, from Friday through Sunday (July 25 to 27)--is backed by the traditional instruments of fado: standup bass, Portuguese guitar or guitarra, and Spanish guitar (confusingly known as a viola). The guitarra embellishes the vocal melody, and the viola provides chordal accompaniment.

Despite her respect for the traditions of fado, Mariza is not confined by them. She also uses cello and piano on Fado em Mim, emphasizing the dark tonalities of the songs. On a couple of tracks she also brings in percussion, including the adufe drum typical of the folk music of Beira Baixa in northeast Portugal. And with "O Deserto", on her second album, Fado Curvo, Mariza opens up a new dimension for fado: the use of a brass instrument. "I had an idea it would be a good mix to have the sound of the guitarra and the trumpet with a mute. I never heard of fado with a trumpet, but it worked perfectly. It's a trip between Lisbon and New York."

The songs on Fado Curvo are all striking, but I'm particularly impressed by Mariza's interpretation of the saudade-infused "Primavera". The tune is sung in Portuguese, and features lyrics which translate into: "All the love that bound us/As if it was made of wax, was broken and undone/Ah, fatal spring/How I wish, how we wish/to have died that day."

"It's my favourite fado," she reveals, "I don't know exactly why, but I love the poem, it's really special. Amália [Rodrigues] used to sing that fado."

Asked how she identifies with the tragic, intense persona of songs like "Primavera", Mariza thinks a moment, then replies cryptically, "I can say that I belong to fado--and also that fado belongs to me."