Bossa is...everywhere!

Graphic by Anya Atkin

By Gabriella Collin

For nearly every elevator scene in television and movies, there is the ill-timed, comedically slow “elevator music.” You’ve seen it before— two characters with severe tension stand side-by-side, acknowledging each other's presence but left unable to act on it. “Girl From Ipanema” plays softly in the background, its calming nature juxtaposing the heightened atmosphere of the scene. 

No matter where you go, bossa nova is everywhere. 

It chases callers down, playing as hold music for disgruntled customers of insurance companies. As discussed by Onhold Studio, “on-hold music is intended to fill the silence, it frequently veers toward bossa nova or elevator-style music, which is intended to be reassuring.” Bossa is dreaded, because contemporary attitudes towards it associate it with something slow, boring and disappointing; Being put on hold. When we hear bossa nova, it’s almost never when we want to. Even if we do like it, we have a very binary idea of what bossa sounds like. 

Bossa is known by Americans for being soft, slow, barely-there beach music that makes you want to sway back and forth. This isn’t wrong, because bossa nova can be those things, but it's also more than that. In fact, bossa nova was, at a time, one of Brazil’s greatest feats of modernity. 

On April 22nd, 1500, Portuguese explorer Pedro Álvares Cabral arrived on the coast of “True Cross.”, now known as Brazil. Cabral—in charge of trade negotiations and agreements between Portugal and India—landed at True Cross, quickly claiming it for Portugal. True Cross was already inhabited by multiple groups of indigenous people, such as the Tupi people, whose population rivaled Portugal’s population at the time. In his diary “The Voyages of Pedro Álvares Cabral to Brazil and India,” Cabral was obsessive over the appearances of the Tupi people, who were “dark, and entirely naked, without anything to cover their shame.” Later paintings would portray the Tupi with reddish, tan skin. They hunted primarily with bow and arrow, and spoke Paraguayan Guaraní. The contemporary Tupi population exceeds no more than 250,000, a quarter of their population pre-colonization. While multiple sources claim that Cabral attempted peacekeeping measures between his crew and the Tupi, the Tupi who populated Brazil were enslaved, and later succumbed to European-borne illnesses. Cabral claimed the Tupi were primitive: “[...] there was no more speech or understanding with them, because their barbarity was so great that no one could either be understood or heard.” Upon Cabral’s arrival, Brazil was plunged into 300 years of Portuguese rule. 

In its early years, Brazil was property of the Portuguese Crown, under the ruling of John III, the sixth king of Portugal, otherwise known as “The Colonizer.” In Cabral’s diary entries, he claims that the refusal by the Tupi in learning Portuguese should be met with subtle punishment: “[...] we should not attempt to take any one away from here by force nor cause any scandal, but in order to tame and pacify them all more, we should simply leave here the two convicts when we departed.” As of now, Portuguese is the dominant and official language of Brazil, spoken by 98% of the population. Brazil is the only country in Latin America that doesn’t speak Spanish, with little English spoken either. After 300 years of control at the hands of the Portuguese government, Brazil entered a two year war with Portugal, claiming independence in 1822. After about 5,000 deaths, Portugal formally recognized Brazil as an independent country, under the rule of Dom Pedro. 

Brazil was free!

Sort of.

Not only was Brazil forced to pay reparations to the Portuguese government after the war, but Brazil was governed by multiple dictatorships. There were three distinct political eras in Brazil after its liberation by Portugal, most notably the Vargas Era. President Getúlio Vargas rose to power in Brazil through a revolt that kept him in office for 25 years. During his time in office, Brazil fell into a Great Depression during the 1930s, which upset the country significantly. A new constitution was drafted, and when Vargas left office—replaced by Juscelino Kubitschek—the name of the game was modernization. 

Bossa nova was born in 1956. The name, literally translating to “new-wave” evolved from pre-existing genres. Samba-canção, one of the dominant genres at the time, no longer suited the young people of Brazil. Bossa nova came into fruition with complete intention. The goal: to create music that inspired happiness among its listeners. The music was easy-going, featuring gentle vocals and majority-guitar instrumentals. Bossa nova, as referred to by Brown University, was an “interlude of optimism.” Brazil became synonymous with Rio De Janeiro, Rio was already synonymous with beaches, and thus, beaches became synonymous with bossa. 

Cultural influence from the US had been trickling into Brazil since Kubitschek assumed power, potentially finding its way into the bossa sound, too. The musicians who were pioneering bossa nova were frequenting jazz clubs. Some scholars claim that a combination of Brazilian jazz clubs as well as movies and music being produced in the US were primary inspirations for bossa. But Antônio Carlos Jobim (1927-1994), one of the most prolific bossa artists, claimed otherwise. 

“Many people said that bossa nova was an Americanized phenomenon. I think this is entirely false. Much to the contrary, I think what influenced [North] American music was the bossa nova. I received letters and telegrams from various illustrious composers … saying that bossa nova had been the biggest influence on American music in the last thirty years.”

There was a unique give-and-take that came from bossa. Bossa nova has directly fed into the global perception of Brazil as a whole. Brazil, specifically Rio De Janeiro, became the epicenter of leisure and entertainment. Postcards from the ’60s showcased beachside views, the statue of Christ the Redeemer overlooking the tropical valley, as well as quaint, white and yellow stucco homes. Bossa nova brought Brazil into a modern age, using the tourist appeal of the terrain to further broadcast the genre. 

In 1966, Stan Getz (a saxophonist) and Joao Gilberto (a guitarist and singer) collaborated on the album Getz/Gilberto. This iconic piece of bossa history featured the track “The Girl From Ipanema,” arguably the best-known piece of bossa nova. Gilberto’s singing is barely audible as he quietly recites the lyrics in Portuguese. His portion is quickly followed by Astrud Gilberto, Joao’s wife and singer. It is her specific performance within “The Girl From Ipanema” that is best known among works of bossa. She sings similarly to her husband; she doesn’t seem to be in any rush to get the words out, and it is easy to imagine her swaying as she performs in the studio. “The Girl From Ipanema” embodies the main elements of bossa:There is gentle guitar, quiet singing, a featured brass solo, and an overall easy-going attitude. 

The tried and true bossa formula has proven itself time and time again. It is easy-going, so much so that the artists who create it often fall into obscurity. If all the music sounds the same, then why should any one artist be singled out and praised? Bossa nova, as a movement, didn’t last long. It was popular for about a decade, created to suit a sudden shift in Brazil’s social climate. It mainly heightened the image of a marketable Brazil at first, but soon, bossa nova creeped into other forms of mainstream media, and with varied intentions... 

On October 27th of 2019, mangaka Haruichi Furudate took his manga, HAIKYU!!, in a completely new direction. The story follows Hinata Shōyō, a high school freshman who joins his school’s volleyball club. Over the course of his high school career, Hinata and his team learned over and over again that there is value in defeat. In chapter 370, Furudate takes readers through a five year timeskip. In this later plotline, Hinata Shōyō was living in Rio de Janeiro, playing beach volleyball while working as a delivery boy. Readers, who were intimately familiar with the setting of the story, relied on it to continue taking place in Japan. Furudate did something daring, removing his main character from the setting and placing him halfway across the world. Out of the conservative, and into the boisterous, Hinata chose to move to Brazil in hopes of becoming a better player. He immediately notes that beach volleyball is harder than the indoor alternative. However, he is surrounded by a lifestyle and city-wide culture that is completely foreign to him. This isn’t the first time Brazil has bled into Japanese media, but is one of the only times it has infected manga. The point of HAIKYU!! is that volleyball can be enjoyed by anyone, pretty much everywhere— at home on back patios, in Olympic gymnasiums and on sandy beaches under the blazing sun. A similar sentiment can be said about bossa. While it was at first developed for the residents of Brazil who were thriving after the removal of an oppressive and dated governing power, its simple nature became easily adaptable. 

Despite what some call its “simplicity,” bossa transcends the sleepy guitar and drowsy vocals. One of the best, international examples of this is Masayoshi Takanaka’s album, Brazilian Skies (1978). The opening track, “BELEZA PULA,” is a masterful cacophony of sound, with a small choir, multiple sets of keyboards and basses. It even features the cuica, a Brazilian friction drum that produces a sort of squeegee sound. The cuica can be heard throughout the entire song, a critical element that adds to the Brazilian inspiration. Takanaka enters—giddy as can be—playing a 13lb guitar sculpted from a surfboard. In an article by Campbell Wood, titled, “How a Japanese Man with a Guitar Changed My Life,” Wood says that “BELEZA PULA” is an “elixir for a human’s ears.” Takanaka champions the jazz-fusion genre and takes the very idea of fusion to the next level. Everything about this album is unapologetically Bossa. While it’s not the sleepy, mellow formula that’s become globally popular, it’s certainly beachy (the album cover, too). The visuals are a photo of Takanaka himself, on a beach chair in Barra da Tijuca, an upper-class neighborhood in Rio de Janeiro where he recorded a portion of the album. 

While it’s a masterpiece—proving the value of blending genres, traditions and musical cultures— Takanaka’s Brazilian Skies is a one-off of sorts. What about the bossa artists in Brazil who were making music outside of the “formula”? 

Chico Buarque comes to mind. Born in Rio de Janeiro to a historian father and pianist mother, Buraque was heavily inspired by the likes of bossa legends such as Joao Gilberto in his pursuit of music. While studying drama in the late 60s, Buarque adapted the play Morte e Vida Severina (Death and Life of Severina) for a musical format, only to be exiled to Italy in 1969 for the play’s subversive content. During his exile, Buarque penned the album Constução (1970), a ten-track project written exclusively during his stay in Italy. Each song is heavy, dramatic and dark. Its title track, “Constução,” tells the story of a lowly construction worker, begrudgingly enduring each day of labor. As it utilizes a menacing aura, it becomes clear from the first stanza that this is not a happy story. As the song progresses, the music becomes more intense. It features a full brass section and a men’s and women’s chorus, who sing in perfect unison, hitting every constant. “Constução” is a highly theatrical song, likely inspired by the events of his exile. My favorite lyrics come during the outro: 

“Pela cachaça de graça que a gente tem que engolir
(For the free cachaça—a Brazilian distilled alcohol—that we have to swallow)
Pela fumaça, desgraça, que a gente tem que tossir
(Because of the smoke, disgrace that we have to cough)
Pelos andaimes, pingentes, que a gente tem que cair
(For the hanging scaffolding that we have to fall)
Deus lhe pague
(God bless you)”

All of the songs on Constução are like this; they disrupt the previously created bossa image, and in a way, mourn the death of bossa.

Bossa nova, as a genre, retained relevance for a short 10 years. It was a decade in which groups like Quarteto em Cy—a quartet of female singers and musicians—rose to popularity with their clever harmonies and masterful unison. Bossa nova was a male-dominated genre, and while not much information is available on Quarteto em Cy, their song “Tudo Que Você Podia Ser” speaks for itself in terms of their musical ability and blending of styles. Another notable group was Os Tincoās. They deviated from the Bossa genre but produced memorable songs such as “Cordeiro De Nanã,” released in 1976 and later sampled by Polo & Pan in 2017. 

So, why bossa? 

Since bossa’s conception, the image of Brazil, Rio de Janeiro specifically, remains in the 1960s. FIFA and the Rio movies alone—if they can even be called intentional efforts—are not enough to fix it. The resulting, long-lasting boom in Brazil’s tourism industry since the rise of bossa nova has done significant and detrimental damage to the country’s economy, and created housing instability for its indigenous populations. Bossa was an act of modernization for a country that had been violently colonized for 300 years, and was the break that Brazilian residents needed after the Vargas Era. But I wonder if it’s doing more harm than good in the long-term. 

It’s impossible not to think deeply about these questions and the morality of travel when researching a genre with such a rich and complex history. But, when I return my attention to songs like “Chove Chuva,” by Jorge Ben Jor, “Que Pena,” by Gal Costa, and even “Girl From Ipanema,” I am reminded that bossa is a beautiful genre that doesn’t deserve to be pigeonholed into one specific look or sound. Bossa is idyllic; it’s a breath of fresh air, even now. Since I started this article, I find myself searching for bossa in everything I listen to. I haven’t even scratched the surface in terms of artists and albums, because there’s so much to uncover. In the span of a single decade, hundreds of musicians produced beautifully crafted albums, and you can hear in every song how much they enjoy being in that moment.  

Each year, we are drawn further and further away from the bossa age. In spite of the time that’s passed, I can’t help but notice that bossa nova is, no matter what, everywhere.