No question: the next time they come back, they will be playing a bigger venue. Ana Bacalhau and her colleagues might even end up giving the fado queen, Mariza, some serious competition. The Portuguese group’s debut album, Cançao do Lado, certainly belongs among the most uplifting releases of the year.

Of course, the very mention of fado conjures images of doom-laden ballads and melodramatically mismatched lovers. Romantic entanglements certainly play their part in the quartet’s songs — all composed by the guitarist Pedro da Silva Martins — but the mood is much sprightlier and more puckish. One or two of the acoustic melodies even have a subtle indie-rock edge: if Jarvis Cocker had been brought up in Lisbon he might have come up with something as quirky as Mal por Mal.

Cape Verdean and Brazilian rhythms are well to the fore, bright primary colours blended with the bittersweet twist of saudade. On Garconete da Casa de Fado —one of the highlights of the band’s concise but potent set — Bacalhau plunged into the role of a Brazilian girl who finds work at a fado house and breaks with protocol by launching into an ecstatic dance.

Bacalhau, a sensual figure blessed with infinitely mobile hips and an infectious sense of humour, was the centre of attention throughout. It helped that she speaks excellent English, enabling her to embark on droll, Nana Mouskouri-style explanations of each song. Da Silva Martins and his fellow-guitarist Luis José Martins remained seated throughout in time-honoured fado manner. Zé Pedro Leitão’s sinuous double-bass lines helped to give the compact line-up an exceptionally broad palette.

The sombre shades of Clandestino provided Bacalhau with the opportunity to demonstrate that she could handle melancholy as well as any black-lace diva. Fon-Fon-Fon, on the other hand, was a jaunty love letter to a classical tuba player — even including a throwaway reference to Glenn Gould’s version of the Goldberg Variations. And the satirical Movimento Perpétuo Associativo , which turned into a high-spirited singalong, had fun at the expense of the kind of political faint-hearts whom Alex Glasgow parodied so memorably in As Soon as This Pub Closes.

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