Beating to His Own Rhythm:
The Sound of Zé Maria
A journey through music, passion, and heritage with one of Lisbon’s most soulful Mozambican artists.
Words and photos by Joy Grant
If you find yourself at Secret Garden LX in Lisbon on a Thursday or Friday night, you might just be lucky enough to catch the soulful sounds of Zé Maria, a Mozambican artist who performs as part of their Open Mic, Open Mind series. If you do, you’re in for an unforgettable show.
The night I was there the energy in the garden was high as different performers took to the stage. My group sat at a table near Zé Maria and his friends and before long we were all talking and joking like old friends. When I found out he was a musician from Mozambique I let him know I was a travel writer and asked if I could get some video of him playing. Though hesitant, he went and grabbed his instrument, the Hatsló which caught me off guard as it looked like an ordinary pot. But the moment he quieted the crowd down and began to play, its musicality was clear. He opened with singing and then began patting the sides and the top where there was an opening, each action adding another dimension to the sound. The singing slowly sped up as the song went on and his voice came out stronger along the way slowly becoming a deep resonant sound. His hands moved quickly, coaxing out percussive beats and hypnotic melodies, shifting the entire atmosphere. A moment before, the night had been fragmented, groups scattered around having their own conversations. Now, everyone was locked in, the musician caught in the rhythm of something entirely his own.
After his performance, I thanked Zé Maria for his time and for sharing his talent with me. He let me know that sharing his art was his pleasure but made sure I came back to interview him stating, “You have the sound, but you need the story too.” His insistence wasn’t about vanity but about ensuring his music carried the weight of his journey.
Born into a family where music was as much a part of life as breathing, Zé Maria never questioned his path. From the moment he was born, he believed he had a musical calling on his life. “I didn’t want to be in my mother. I wanted to be in the land with music,” he stated during our conversation, “I need to be near music all the time.” His earliest memories are colored with music. His grandmother, originally from Tanzania was a singer. Before he received any formal training he did everything he could to learn. “I would listen to music at my friend’s house on the radio and memorize it so that I could practice at home,” he reminisced. Eventually, he met Chico Antonio, a Mozambican musician who is considered one of the greatest of his time. “I knocked on his door every morning for a month before I was allowed to learn with him,” he laughed.
The instruments Zé Maria played for me are as unique as his story and sound. The Hatsló, the pot instrument from our first encounter, was crafted by a friend. The Mbira, a wooden instrument with metal keys, has a built-in guitar jack; a fusion of tradition and modernity. Each instrument carries history, and for him, playing them is about more than just sound; it’s about keeping stories alive. He believes that music should make people sing, dance, and feel connected to something beyond themselves. His playing is a conversation between cultures, blending traditional Mozambican influences with jazz, blues, and whatever else he feels in the moment. A genre of his own, he calls it “salada mista”, mixed salad.
Zé Maria speaks about music the way some speak about family; something inherited, nurtured, and deeply personal. And if there’s one thing Zé Maria makes clear, it’s that his music is not just for him, it’s for his people. After traveling the world performing and recording music Zé Maria ended up in Portugal during the pandemic, finding a community that he wanted to call home. His pride isn’t just in his skill, but in what his music represents. He is deeply aware of the history and meaning behind every note he plays, and he carries that with him whether he’s performing in a hidden garden in Lisbon or on a stage across the world.
As I think back on the night I met Zé Maria, I understand what he meant when he said he needs to be near music all the time. It’s not just an art form to him—it’s the rhythm that has shaped his life. The pride he takes in his work is not just about talent but about carrying forward the voices of those who came before him. Zé Maria is more than a musician; he is a storyteller, a bridge between past and present. And for anyone lucky enough to hear him play, his music lingers long after the night is over.