Adolfo Luxúria Canibal - No rasto dos duendes eléctricos

Rock is primarily counterculture, an opposition to standardization or social sanitization. In its most basic definition, rock is an invitation to freedom, defending the opportunity for informality and the most unbridled emotion.

There is an expected rapture in its sound, a surrender that presupposes re-education to the sensory dimension, profoundly animal, without shame or crime.

The work of Adolfo Luxúria Canibal is one of the most cultured in the Portuguese rock scene. Exemplary at the helm of Mão Morta, his charisma justifies part of the continued relevance of his great band, a charisma that is amplified by direct lyrics, always presented as a blow against a world of seductions, vices, and flawed virtues.

There is no silly moralizing. What he says is a matter of denunciation and also an affection for danger, because he doesn't present himself as exemplary, he presents himself as free.

It is impossible for recent Portuguese culture to ignore the poetry gathered here. At some point, we were all exposed to his insightful, pertinent acidity, in the face of the smallness that tends to be the world of ordinary people.

Between abyssal loves and grotesque politics, hallucinations of a more or less pharmaceutical nature or cities full of the past, the poetics of Adolfo Luxúria Canibal is complete contemporaneity, an avidity, with its own way of assuming and denouncing at the same time. Without guilt. Just strength. You could say, intelligence.