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Writer's pictureSofia R. Willcox

Don't Let the Samba Die: How Soundtracks Highlight Inequality and Ignorance

As someone born and raised in Brazil, and after immersing myself in its audiovisual productions, I can confidently say there’s a unique signature—a borogodó. One element that always catches my attention is how soundtracks vividly reflect Brazil’s socio-economic inequalities, where the rich grow richer and the poor grow poorer. In contrast, bossa nova—another hallmark of Brazilian music—is often used in non-Brazilian films as an aesthetic backdrop, stripped of its cultural weight. Each chord tells a story. Today, December 2, the Day of Samba, is a fitting moment to reflect on how one sound has one hundred layers.


The camera pans over a sprawling favela: red-brick homes stacked on hillsides, clotheslines swaying in the breeze, and narrow alleys alive with kids playing barefoot pick-up football. A crowded bus creaks uphill, packed with workers clutching bags and dreams. Inside a modest kitchen, the aroma of rice and beans fills the air as a family gather around mismatched plates. A small boteco hums with laughter, plastic chairs scraping across the floor, cold beer sweating on tables, and football on the TV. In this scenario, it’s likely you will hear, either diegetically or non-diegetically, the sound of samba.


The camera smoothly pans across the vast stretches of Leblon, Ipanema, or Copacabana. The boardwalk is full of pedestrians of all ages, strutting like models, accompanied by every breed of dog. The sand is dotted with bodies sunbathing, while street vendors zigzag through them, selling everything and shouting their jingles. The sidewalk is lined with the frontages of buildings, kiosks offering coconut water, and elders playing cards. In this scenario, it’s likely you’ll hear, either diegetically or non-diegetically, the sound of MPB.


The origins of that? Telenovelas! Brazilians are true noveleiros, not for nothing telenovelas were created in Brazil. The plot of telenovelas usually revolves around these groups, representing an everyday life with a dose of melodrama. A distinctive characteristic of these serial television dramas, in contrast to a typical feature film, is the division of core groups of characters. One way to shift the focus of the narrative is through the soundtrack, which anticipates the presence of these groups. In Brazilian telenovelas, soundtracks often serve as more than just background—they set the tone, reinforce class divisions, and highlight the social dynamics between the characters, making music an integral part of storytelling. The choice of soundtrack, in terms of genre, is rooted in the origins of these types of music.




Samba is deeply intertwined with Black Brazilians and African slaves, who worked in the sugar cane mills of the Northeast and the coffee farms and mines of Brazil’s southern regions. The rhythms emerged from the cramped quarters of these slaves, expressed through beats created by their feet and hands striking the floor or their own bodies, as musical instruments were scarce. This sound drew inspiration from their native homelands and fused with European rhythms.


The 19th century was marked by abolitionist movements, culminating in 1888, when slavery was fully abolished. However, the lack of reparation policies and social integration left many former slaves marginalized, which brings to in Brazil, poverty has colour. Their gatherings, particularly in public spaces, often drew the attention of the police, who deemed them suspicious under unjust laws rooted in veiled racism and biased views. Samba flourished in these communities, particularly in the homes of elderly Black women from Bahia, affectionately known as tias, or in terreiros. Terreiros served as sacred spaces dedicated to practicing Afro-Brazilian culture, including Capoeira, Candomblé, and Umbanda. It wasn’t until the 1930s that the genre was decriminalized. Despite the early prohibition, samba evolved into a part of Carnaval, country’s identity, and, in 1916, saw its first recorded track. It has since given rise to a diversity of subgenre.



MPB is an acronym for música popular brasileira, which translates to 'Brazilian popular music.' Defining MPB can spark debates and varying opinions, but it is widely agreed that the genre is characterized by its diversity. As a vast country, Brazil hosts a wide array of musical styles that reflect its regional differences while unifying the country through its unique sound. MPB was born from this melting pot of influences, giving rise to a distinct and iconic sound.


MPB has a complex relationship with Brazil's elite and social classes. Initially, it was largely embraced by the intellectual and artistic elite, with its sophisticated sound often resonating with higher social strata. This may be because many MPB artists came from middle-class, university-educated backgrounds. For some, MPB symbolized a refined, intellectual approach to music, but this sometimes alienated working-class and poorer communities, who felt excluded from its more formal, upper-crust associations. At the same time, MPB often carried strong political and social critiques, creating a paradox where it critiqued inequalities while being shaped by elite cultural preferences.


During Brazil's 21-year-long military dictatorship, MPB became more than just music; it became a powerful tool for cultural resistance. It challenged censorship, advocated for political reform, and expressed solidarity with marginalised communities, all while enduring a period of authoritarian rule marked by human rights abuses, political persecution, exile, and censorship. MPB’s resilience during this time made it not only a musical genre but also a voice of defiance and unity in the face of oppression.



In contrast to Brazilian productions, which rely on this cultural dichotomy and reinforce social divides, non-Brazilian productions often overuse bossa nova. Briefly defined as a fusion of Carioca samba and American jazz in the 1950s. With roots in the South Zone, where there are the upscale neighbourhoods of Rio de Janeiro. Bossa nova is often used to build an atmosphere—ranging from tranquillity to sophistication and romance.


Though, as an immigrant, I once heard someone say, 'This is like elevator music.' There are so many layers of ignorance in that statement; it erases the entire significance of this Brazilian genre, which is the most exported, and a portrait of Brazil’s relationship with abroad. Bossa nova played a strong role in Rio de Janeiro’s cultural identity, much more than just mood or background music. It’s a form of othering a continental country with a melting pot of microcosms, reducing it to one-dimensional stereotypes and, in the process, intellectually impoverishing the understanding of Brazil.



 

 

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