Ah, "Maré," Luís Vicente’s latest sonic voyage, a trumpeter’s audacious plunge into the roiling seas of free jazz. If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to be serenaded by a foghorn while a poetic tide washes over you, look no further. Vicente’s solo trumpet performance, recorded live at the Convento de Santa Clara a Nova on 17th November 2017 and pushed on Cipsela catalogue on 2020, offers a unique blend of existential dread and abstract beauty.

This album is as pretentious as it sounds—Vicente’s trumpet doesn’t just play music; it engages in a metaphysical dialogue with the ancient walls of the monastery. The artist supposedly draws inspiration from a poem by Fernando Pessoa, though whether this was a premeditated artistic decision or a post-hoc rationalization is anyone's guess. Regardless, the poem’s themes of vast tides and existential reflection permeate the album.

Vicente's technical prowess is undeniable. He oscillates between mournful, solitary notes reminiscent of a ship lost at sea and sudden, sharp bursts of emotion. The sound is both grand and intimate, filling the expansive space while also inviting listeners into a deeply personal experience. It’s like listening to an existential crisis played out on a trumpet, which, let’s be honest, is probably the most avant-garde way to experience an existential crisis.

Some critics have lavished praise on "Maré," with comparisons to Nassim Maalouf's "Improvisations Orientales"—because nothing says "deep" like drawing parallels to other obscure jazz masterpieces. Vicente’s tone, described as refined pain and sentiment, carries an improvisational lyricism that’s as unpredictable as the ocean itself. His high pitches resonate, waiting for the monastery walls to answer back, creating an almost supernatural conversation between man, music, and architecture.

The 23 minutes lasting track "Quebra Mar" exemplifies this with its sweeping, anxious tides of sound, an echo of deeper realities and hidden emotions. It’s abstract and concrete all at once—sounds pouring out of Vicente's trumpet that are symbols, metaphors, and analogies of something far beyond the physical.

In essence, "Maré" is not just an album but a potential manifesto of Vicente's artistic vision. It’s a challenge to the listener to dive deep into the swirling waters of their own subconscious, humbly evoked by the isolated tones of a trumpet. So, if you're ready to abandon the safety of conventional music and embark on a journey through the stormy seas of free jazz, give "Maré" a listen. Just make sure you have a lifeboat handy.