Published on June 13, 2024 at 12:10 p.m. / Modified on June 13, 2024 at 7:35 p.m.
His music is a flame that flickers in the hot air. Dino talks to you about everything, his childhood terrors, his inner wars, with a smile, almost casually, as if he were someone else. He is there, wrapped in a big red sweater, in the middle of this house in Brugg in Aargau where he lives with mother, sister, nephew, girlfriend. “During the pandemic, our Zurich apartments seemed so small. We decided to meet in the village where I was born and we continue to love it.” An open-air fortress, like the first album of a singer whose bottom we cannot see.
We remember his voice, the first times it resonated in French-speaking Switzerland: a tropical opera falsetto on the lake stage of the Montreux Jazz Festival. He sang prayers in Swiss German with Sophie Hunger and Faber – without catching a single word, we were sure to understand him. In the process, he released a few tracks of his own, with English lyrics that evoke a capsized castle, the world as it collapses. As Dino Brandão translates all experience into the crude language of pop, lightened by dance, we confess to not having always listened attentively to his texts. Self Inclusion, this exorcist record is a call to order.
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