A performer brings Brazilian rock to the north inner-city

Backstage in the green room of The Sound House, Dafne Kontoya straightens her hair in front of the mirror.

“Can you help me?” she asks her wife, Camila Aquino, calmly.

“You look good,” says Aquino, after lending a hand.

Kontoya’s hair is longer in front than the back. Blue strands stick up, from the straightening.

Kontoya and Aquino walk down the stairs and find a spot at the back of the crowd where they watch the end of the opening act, a Foo Fighters tribute band.

Then, at around 8.30pm on 7 April, Kontoya takes the stage. She addresses the audience in Portuguese.

I should be talking in English, she says, but “this is a Pitty tribute”.

Pitty is a big Brazilian rock star – and a massive influence, says Kontoya. To perform a tribute to her is a dream come true, she says.

Kontoya grew up listening to Pitty and trying to follow her steps, she says off-stage, a few days later. She loves the way she dresses, and how she carries herself, she says.

But Alanis Morissette is Kontoya’s main influence, she says. “I see videos of me performing before, and I notice that my movements were similar to hers.”

On stage at The Sound House, the audience roars along with the lyrics to famous hits: “I Wanna Be“, ” Temporal “, and “Equalize” – the last a love ballad that Kontoya dedicates to her wife.

“She’s in here somewhere,” she says, when a shout from the audience asks where Aquino is.

Kontoya says that off-stage, she’s a very shy person. But on stage, that falls away.

Tonight, she’s wearing black leather trousers and a black shirt with a transparent layer that reveals her tattoo of the word “SAMPA” – slang in Portuguese for the Brazilian city of São Paulo, where she was born.

“It’s like a persona,” says Kontoya. “I am another, I am the superhero that I would like to be.”

A musician in Dublin

Kontoya started out playing music in Dublin as a busker on Grafton Street and College Green.

She was very nervous the first time, she says, so she went with a group. But she got over that in time and grew to love it.

“It was a great experience,” she says. “The people watching are warm, they choose to stop and watch you.” It’s special, says Kontoya.

To build a profile, you have to prioritise your music, Kontoya says, and build up a network. “You have to face the music as a professional.”

Agencies generally hire musicians for pubs, she says. When she was starting out in Dublin though, Kontoya didn’t know any agencies so she reached out to another Brazilian musician.

She messaged Luiz Augusto Piazza, a member of the Brazilian rock tribute band Tributo Rock, through her Instagram, Piazza says.

Kontoya was nervous about contacting him, worried about asking for industry contacts given he had probably spent years building his network, while she had just recently arrived in Dublin, she says.

“I was delicate,” she says.

I told him that I would understand if it was not possible to share his contacts, but Piazza was helpful and friendly from the beginning, she says. “He is the type of person that everyone likes.”

Piazza has worked as a professional full-time musician in Dublin since 2013, one of a team of musicians behind Tributo Rock, he says.

Kontoya asked him for tips, he says. “And we developed a friendship. When an opportunity arose I called her to be part of our tribute.”

And that’s how she got her first gig in Dublin, singing with Tributo Rock.

There aren’t that many women playing pubs and small stages in Dublin, she says. For her, women encouraging others is important, she says – as is hard work and networking.

She only knows of Camila Cobe playing, she says.

Cobe, a Brazilian musician and songwriter, also started her career in Dublin from the ground up, busking in the streets.

She has been playing as a full-time musician in pubs in Dublin for almost three years, she said recently. “When I first started I saw two women, now I have seen more women.”

Cobe says it’s important to just keep going. “Don’t take no as an answer.”

Three years ago she was rejected by a pub in Temple Bar, she says. “And now I’m playing there every week.”

Outside of her pub performances, Cobe works on her own songs, putting them out on Spotify and YouTube.

She performed one of her songs, “Proud”, in the 2020 Busker Fleadh Concert, a council initiative showcasing independent music.

Thinking about professional production is key to making it, Cobe says. “At first I started on my own and now I have a producer,” she says.

It’s easier these days to launch music, says Cobe. But becoming a pro, transforming it into a business, that takes work, time and money, she says.

As Kontoya’s Pitty tribute neared its end at The Sound House on 7 April, the audience drew closer to the stage, helping Kontoya with the final numbers.

“We liked it very much, we came for both: Foo Fighters and Pitty tribute,” says Natalia Carvalho, as it wound up.

Carvalho and her friends are Brazilian. They often come to Brazilians’ gigs in Dublin, she says. Like, “at Fibber, twice a month they do the Brazilian Rock Tribute and Reggae night”, says Carvalho.

The Pitty tribute comes to the end. “Keep your heads up always,” Kontoya says, to the crowd.

“Encore! Encore! Encore!” they chant back.

On and off

A week later, Kontoya sat on a wooden stool at The Merry Cobbler in Irishtown Road, strumming acoustic songs and mellow ballads. “Losing My Religion”. “Flowers”.

An elderly couple sit close by. Every time Kontoya finishes a song, the woman takes a break from knitting what looks like a white pullover to clap. The man takes a few sips of his Guinness, listening.

Big stages are where she can really push her performances, says Kontoya. “The stage is my religion.”

But playing in pubs is where Kontoya can mix work and pleasure, she says. It makes more sense, moneywise, she says – as there are more gigs, and demand seven days a week if she wants.

Pubs are a great school for musicians as they need to do everything by themselves, she says.

It’s Sunday at 8pm. Kontoya’s leather trousers shine as she climbs down from the stage, packs her things, and minutes later, she walks out through the doors.

Kontoya still feels like a bit of her performer self when she gets home. Only after she removes her makeup and takes a hot shower does she start to distance herself from her on-stage avatar, she says.

Only after a night’s sleep, the performer fully disappears. “Before that, I still hold onto a bit of the persona,” says Kontoya.