The 31-year-old singer, songwriter and musician Salvador Sobral presents "BPM", his most personal album to date. 13 new songs, for the first time completely initiated by himself, provide a deep, equally upbeat insight into the life of the man who dedicated himself to jazz at an early age and found his way back to it via a detour. In 2017, he took part in the Eurovision Song Contest and what no one thought possible happened: Salvador Sobral brought victory to the southern tip of the Iberian Peninsula - a first for Portugal. However, even before the final of the ESC, he did not feel comfortable as a participant in the TV spectacle, coming as he did from jazz, a completely different musical language from that spoken on the very big show stage. He finally returned to jazz after surviving a heart transplant with the album "Paris Lisboa", released in 2019. "Alma Nuestra" followed a year later, a stroke of genius in terms of interpersonal interaction. Sobral now continues the trail of searching for connections with a partially re-cast band on "BPM". It's about connecting pulses between people, between the performing musicians, and between Sobral and his listeners. Rich in finely tuned nuances, equally expressive, Salvador Sobral tells in "BPM" from his life, and thus exemplarily and forcefully from all our lives. To set the mood for "BPM", he has summarized his thoughts himself "Since the beginning of my career, I always felt more comfortable singing songs by other artists. It's true that I was tempted to contribute one or two songs of my own writing to my previous albums. But I really can't claim to have actually used my songwriting vein - it remained a hair-thin vein. To stay in the picture: The approach to this new album felt like laying bare my entire aorta Of course, it wouldn't have gotten this far without Leo Aldrey, my main collaborator in music and in life. When I met him at the Taller de Musics in Barcelona in 2010, I was convinced that I wanted to sing the American Jazz Songbook for the rest of my life. Today, I publicly blame that dear friend for kidnapping me, locking me in a room for several nights, and forcing me to write songs. Many years have passed since then, but the dynamic between us has changed as little as his methods. Only the size of his room has increased in volume. In February 2020, we took a house in the middle of Alentejo for a month to write songs Leo always completely understands what I want to communicate in my music, as well as how I want to communicate. He brings out the best in my abilities, and always lets me discover a few more facets of my skills. When it came to the producer for this album, there was no doubt that he would be my first choice - after all, he had been very familiar with the new songs since their formative stages By October 2020, we had gathered about 17 song seedlings, or 17 song sketches, if you will. I wanted to present those to my band as the next step, to rehearse them with them, and to be able to feel them in living form with my musicians. It should be great! But... rehearsals were scheduled, cancelled, and rescheduled, a total of three times. Each time we wanted to go into the studio, the virus threw a wrench in our plans. On the fourth try, two days before the first rehearsal, Max Agnas, our pianist, called me. His voice sounded desperate. He had torn a ligament and had to be operated on, so he couldn't take part in the rehearsals or the subsequent recordings. I called a friend who I had played with here and there. He's a super creative and melodically accomplished pianist, with fire in his heart - confident and curious, lyrical and punk. His name is Abe Rabade. Even while talking to him on the phone, I knew I had made the right decision. Two days later, he was at my house learning the new songs with almost Olympic-like speed. He even asked me to explain each song to him in detail, from the content to the smallest nuance. His exemplary dedication to the project, from the first rehearsals to the last day of recording, was simply admirable. I will be forever grateful to him for saving my new album. It was also saved by André Rosinha and Bruno Pedroso, who kept our band going day after day since the beginning. Both of them have been playing with me since 2015. We have become close friends, appreciating our respective virtues but also accepting each other's miseries. I feel deep admiration for how both of them see and feel about music. I am a steadfast fan of the musical choices they make, and with which they enrich my music. I trust them completely in all areas of my life, they are the foundation of the family I get to make music with. With pride and admiration for them, I can say that they feel as if my band is their band too. A new but crucial member of the 'family' is André Santos. He is the guitarist I adore the most, and I decided to invite him to participate in the 'new album' adventure. Santos is like a colorful breeze blowing over chords, spreading a unique sonic aroma that confused us in a positive sense and fed the desire to want more of it. I thank him and his sensibility for being part of my project. Everyone in the band contributed their own ideas, suggestions and criticisms, which was hugely beneficial to the creative process As I've often let it be known elsewhere, I'm not a fan of recording studios. To approach the process differently this time, and to make it easier for myself, I decided to record the album outside of Lisbon. I searched the depths of the internet, and finally found a great studio in the south of France, in Léon to be precise. It's a well-equipped studio that includes a neighbouring house where you can stay overnight, in the middle of the countryside, surrounded by deer and rabbits. There, at Le Manoir de Léon, we recorded the 13 songs that make up BPM I make quite a few decisions for different areas of life during my sleepless nights. I like to call the state during such nights PI (Productive Insomnia). The title of my new album is a result of this PI state. After reflecting on my music and my life once more, I came to the conclusion that the strongest connecting element between music and life are the "beats per minute" (BPM). They make us live, they determine the heartbeat, and they give music its pulses, they draw music alive. I will never forget my time in the hospital: I went through a lot of electrocardiogram exams, and during a trickier part of my hospital stay, there was a monitor hanging next to my bed that vividly displayed my BPM. Oddly enough, this sight created a kind of familiarity, as 'BPM' were well known to me through music. And so, during that sleepless night, I decided to name the album BPM. After that, I fell asleep peacefully. At least that one night."