Meet the rappers ‘shipwrecked’ in the Azores

In Portugal’s remote Azores archipelago, rain is never far away, and the sun is often close behind. This tumultuous climate regularly caught attendees of the islands’ Tremor Festival off-guard, but for local rap collective Filhos do Vento (literally ‘Children of the Wind’), battling the elements is second nature. “The sea is angry, but we will keep our ship steady,” producer JP Vasques rapped in the group's performance at the festival, using the extended metaphor of a shipwreck to describe their isolation from musical opportunities in continental Europe. “If nothing else, we are Children of the Wind.”

Located deep in the Atlantic, halfway between Europe and America, this comparison is an apt one. For centuries The Azores has served ships attempting to cross the ocean, but a lack of funding and declining industry has led to decay in recent decades, with the archipelago’s population now standing at less than it was back in 1850. Many inhabitants have been forced to leave the volcanic islands, while poverty and addiction is rife among those who stay. Caught between these vast social forces are the young artists who comprise Filhos do Vento, scattered across the main São Miguel island’s disparate towns.

I meet the group the morning after their Tremor showcase. Their heads are heavy from celebrating what was, by all accounts, a standout performance, but the difficult reality of trying to carve a career in music several hundred nautical miles away from any established hip hop scene is beginning to creep in. “You do Tremor once a year and then nothing,” says 25-year old Valerio AZ, whose boom bap track “AZ” has become somewhat of a local rap anthem, celebrating the distinct accent and upbringing of the Azorean artists. “There’s other shows but they usually dress it as something you should be grateful for. They give you a sandwich and a ‘good luck!’, but I can’t pay the bills with gratitude.” 

The group’s presence could be felt all across the festival. Elsewhere, Valerio delivered a solo acoustic set in an art gallery in the village of Caloura, while fellow Filhos do Vento rapper Skin joined forces with Portuguese folk collective Som Sim Zero for a one-off performance in the rundown fishing town of Rabo de Paixe, infusing his wind-fuelled verses with the historic folk traditions of the island, as well as the contemporary decline that survives them. Still, speaking to me that morning, Skin confides that most of the artists wouldn’t have known each other without the involvement of Tremor.

“There’s many factors that enhance this isolation, even though it’s a small island, but the main one is public transportation,” Valerio explains. “Skin lives in Ribeira Grande, I live in Cabouco, if you’re walking that’s like four hours and there’s no buses. We were relying on the one studio on the island, but we couldn’t go there when the owner wasn’t in so we didn’t have a space to work with.”

This struggle resonated with legendary Portuguese MC xullaji (FKA Chullage), who was brought on by Tremor as a mentor to Filhos do Vento. With heritage in the remote island of Santo Antão, Cape Verde, xullaji knows all too well the bittersweet trappings of island life, and he soon became personally invested in the group’s success. “It’s just mountains and sea, it’s a prison,” xullaji explains of his family’s hometown. “When I came to the Azores, I was like ‘Woah, [Filhos do Vento] are talking about the same things.’ I got to learn their lyrics and started to identify with them. It was supposed to be them singing [at the show], but, because they touched me so much, I would go to the front [of the stage] and just give them blood.” 

“What I found here was soul. They have a connection to the wind, to the sea, you don’t see people in Lisbon rapping about that,” xullaji continues, regularly repeating his answers in Portuguese so that his mentees could fully understand. “The biggest legacy of a place is its people. In people you have poetry and, if the government listens to them, in poetry you have history and an archive. That’s why [Filhos do Vento] should not just be supported, but preserved.”

Indeed, each member of Filhos do Vento was brimming with pride at the Azores’ rich history. Skin excitedly tells me that the first free President of Portugal, Manuel de Arriaga, came from São Miguel, and that the archipelago has some of the cleanest tap water in the world. “When we get the opportunity to go to the mainland, we give everything we have,” chimes in the group’s graphic designer, 22-year old Diogo Carreiro. “I used to do BMX, and when we went to Portugal to compete, the other riders had weeks to study the track, but we would get such good results in just three days. We have so much to give.”

Perhaps the biggest testament to the Filhos do Vento initiative, however, was found in 19-year old aspiring rapper Tomx, who idolised the divisive Portuguese auto-tune trap artist Lon3r. “He thought we were going to disapprove of him, because hardcore hip hop fans don’t like Lon3r, but we were like, ‘Don’t be ashamed, if you like him, be that guy. We’ll teach you how to use auto-tune’,” recalls xullaji. “At first he was so shy, like the mic was going to bite him, [but] by the end we had to take it away from him! Tomx works as a waiter and that confidence is going to help him in his personal life.”

But Valerio AZ, who has seen the press wheel turn one too many times on the Azores without any lasting contribution to the scene’s longevity, and who has spent much of his adult life chasing the dream of a full-time career in music, isn’t satisfied with just confidence. “I’m always the negative guy,” he laughs. “But who actually is our target audience?” 

It was a genuine question, and I told him that he was actually the only artist on the Tremor lineup that I was familiar with before landing in the Azores, having been captivated by the video for “AZ” and the unique environment it showcased. “See, you never know where your music might end up,” xullaji offered, but we were all aware of the uphill battle ahead. Without even a community studio to speak of, unifying moments like “AZ” seem few and far between. Filhos do Vento may be shipwrecked, but there’s certainly sunken treasure to be found alongside them.