The Untold History of Brazilian Funk. @sainthills | African Commentary 🇧🇷

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[00:00:01]Soul Tribe, it's your boy The Scribe.

[00:00:04]We're live on Overdrive with another reaction.

[00:00:09]Today, we're going to be doing it different. The Soul Tribe recommended that I check out Untold Stories of Brazilian funk. Without further ado, we're just going to get into it. Do it as >> Around 40 years ago, a sound was born in the FLLAS, but it was too loud, too raw, too explicit. So, the Brazilian media rejected it. But today, that same sound is being played in clubs from Paris to Tokyo, trending on the world's most influential music platforms, and is being performed by some of the biggest pop stars of our time. So, how did a beat that was once banned from radio become Brazil's leading cultural export?

[00:00:43]And why is the world only discovering it now? This is the untold story of Brazilian fun.

[00:00:55]The year is 1970 and American funk music is becoming popular around the world, including in Brazil. Artists like James Brown are being played in Rio's working-class communities, especially in dance parties called BIS. These parties were playing imported American funk records, so they got named Bunky, literally funk dance party. But then enter the 1980s. Brazil was experiencing severe economic challenges such as hyperinflation. Crime was on the rise and naturally with that came a wave of immigration. Many Brazilians, especially in the middle class, were seeking more stable opportunities abroad. And just like that, the Rio to Miami pipeline was born. As the southernmost tip of North America, Miami provided the shortest flight.

[00:01:36]>> They connected with Miami. Miami has a huge party scene. So, I can see how it blew up. Yeah, Miami is one of those spots, those party locations. spring fling. You know the vibes. You know the vibes.

[00:01:49]>> Brazil to the US. That alongside its familiar tropical climate made it the perfect destination for Brazilians seeking to start a new life abroad. It was within this cultural exchange that Brazilians were first introduced to a sound that would change the history of Brazilian popular music forever. Miami bass. Back then there was like no YouTube or Tik Tok, right? So for you to actually hear music from a different country, you would have to either go there or get in touch with foreign vinyls and CDs. And that's how Miami bass made its way to Brazil. Brazilians that were living in Florida or traveling back and forth actually brought the records down to Rio. DJs like DJ Mauru got their hands on these records and they started playing them at parties which we now know were called B. But they didn't change the name of the parties from By Funky to By Miami bass cuz I guess that's just too wordy and doesn't really hit. So the parties retains the name By Funky but the sound switched from James Brown's American funk to the Miami bass beats of Two Live Crew. But as we move from the 80s to the '90s and crime continues to escalate in Brazil, the lyrics sung over these Miami based type beats by Brazilian MC's starts to reflect the raw reality of what they were experiencing on a day-to-day basis.

[00:02:57]>> Facts. American culture has such a huge influence on the music or the entertainment aspect of the world. I didn't know that punk, you know, has its roots in America just like quito. It's almost the exact same thing. In South Africa, there's this genre of music called squo, which is basically hip-hop in your native tongue. It's really interesting how much influence America has, man. And and people sometimes downgraded saying, "Oh, these guys don't have culture." But this is culture right here.

[00:03:39]That sound of Portuguese yell rapping over Miami bass type beats is what came to be known as the genre funky karaoka.

[00:03:46]>> Funky karaoka is what we call people from Rio. So if you were born and raised in Rio, you would be a karaoka. Nowadays, funky has spread all over Brazil. So saying funky kioa is kind of like saying east coast hip hop. And just how hip-hop started here in New York City, funky started in Rio. But how did we go from karaioas yelling and rapping over Miami based beats to chucha?

[00:04:13]>> The same favllas and working-class suburbs that were home to the first bunky events were also home to a different kind of realm, >> the tearu. These sacred spaces were and still are where Afrobrazilian religions such as and kandumbl connect music, ancestry, and the divine. Born from the fusion of African spiritual traditions blended with Catholicism and indigenous beliefs. These religions are Brazil's truest form of spiritual synratism. They survived colonization through music, dance, and rhythm. Capua and Makulele are cultural expressions rooted in the same spiritual legacy. Martial arts and dance born out of resistance and rhythm.

[00:04:49]Makule specifically is a dance traditionally performed with two wooden sticks. Dancers for a circle taking turns in the center.

[00:04:55]>> Yo, has every anybody ever gotten beaten from that, bro? Like cuz you guys have to be coordinated. You have to be in sync. If one person makes a mistake, it's over there. Yo.

[00:05:06]>> While others sing, clap, and play drums called atabakis. As I bring up the volume in the sequence, pay attention to the rhythm being played by the drumsa.

[00:05:21]Sound familiar? Many of the MC's and producers making funky at the time also attended the Hadus and they started blending the rhythms and sounds of their daily lives into the music that they were making. Sometimes the same drums that were played at the Hadus were brought to the bis. So if you were living in a favlla or working-class suburb of Rio during the 80s and 90s, you might have gone to au on Friday night to praise the odishas oja and to a balifi on Saturday to dance and celebrate life even though the living conditions were far from ideal. In the early 90s, over 40% of the Brazilian population lived in poverty. However, resourcefulness is one of the most quintessential qualities of Brazilian culture. Gambia. Brazilians are the masters of turning scarcity into invention. We create instruments out of plastic water bottles, tin cans, and even bottle caps nailed to wooden planks.

[00:06:06]>> Hey yo, >> and when you have nothing at all.

[00:06:09]>> Hold on. So, I was wondering, I was like, yo, what are these instruments that are being used in the funk generation by Anita?

[00:06:18]come to turn. Hey man, you guys are so innovative. Yo, >> strikes. You can still use your own body.

[00:06:30]>> And this is where the atabaki rhythm played in Makulle circles becomes the infamous chucha chucha. It's just the atabaki rhythm played when you don't have any atabakis.

[00:06:42]So you use your mouth.

[00:06:46]Ah, >> but there's other ways to do it, too.

[00:06:48]For example, you can clap.

[00:06:52]>> Kids in Brazilian favllas don't have access to laptops or music production software. One of the biggest contrasts that I've noticed from having grown up in Brazil and then spent most of my 20s here in the US is that here technology is so much more accessible. As of 2025, minimum wage in New York City is $16.50 per hour. The price of a MacBook Air 13 in is $999.

[00:07:12]Minimum wage in Rio is approximately $265 per month. And the price of that same MacBook Air is even more expensive at $1,600.

[00:07:21]>> Customs and it crosses the border.

[00:07:23]>> So up and coming music artists in Brazil have to be extremely creative and resourceful. And that's how the Choo Chop beatbox takes over the country and becomes infamous. Like many great inventions, it was born out of necessity.

[00:07:39]No matter how hard the circumstances are, Brazilians will always find a way to celebrate life. Maybe it's because, as Benhjo said in his seminal song, Pistro Pic, we live in a tropical country blessed by God with natural beauty. Maybe it is our warm weather and awe inspiring nature that makes our culture so joyful. Imagine waking up in a favlla and this is your view. Except if you're from Salo, of course. But whatever it is that makes us the way that we are, all I know is that not making music just because you don't have instruments would be so unbrazilian. We always find a way and funky is the prime example of Brazilian resourcefulness.

[00:08:14]But the same country that once exported the polished upper middle class sound of Bosanova wasn't ready to embrace the raw real sound of the favllas. Today >> him speaking about this is very fascinating to me because it's the same situation where I grew up in the kingdom of Swatini right where we don't have a whole lot of technology as in the western world so you got to be innovative you got to be creative and also at the same time the music scene there deals with compared to America where everybody can make music from their bedrooms in a Swatini people still have to go to a studio, a space which has the instruments where somebody invested and do it like the traditional way of making music so to speak. Also on the streets, just like you mentioned, you come up and you make your own instruments and you just be a pioneer.

[00:09:09]It's interesting how there's some parallels there that people in the global south are very talented but have limited resources and then it's the opposite where in the western world there's an overabundance of resources and the quality is diminishing because of that artistic quality.

[00:09:31]>> We know that there's a time and place for every mood. Whether you're vibing to chill bosanava beats as you study on a Monday or getting lit with your homies as you pregame for a bay on Friday, Brazilian music is a full spectrum. And if you like what you've been hearing in this video, I've cured two playlists just for you. Brazilian beats and Brazilian electronic. Perfect for focus and study sessions, workouts, a subway commute, pregaming with your homies, just for some mo when you're at home and cooking. You know what I mean? Oh, if you want to know what songs we used in this video, I'm about to show you. Let me tell you, >> I'm an independent artist blending Brazilian culture with global sound. Do that.

[00:10:30]video isn't sponsored, but if you've enjoyed the music that you've heard, I would really appreciate it if you hit the link below and followed me on Spotify to help with Following on Spotify helps the algorithm push to new people. And streams directly support indie artists like me, which makes videos like this possible. Subscribing here on YouTube helps share this story with more people. And my mission through music and storytelling is to shine a light on Brazilian culture and share it with the world because it's the best. It's the best move.

[00:10:58]Growing up in Brazil in the 2000s, we listened to a lot of American music. We watched a lot of American movies and TV shows and overall just sucked America's fucking dick. Okay, if you grew up in a developing country, you know exactly what I'm talking about. It's that feeling that they had to put on shades to activate our culture was always less than. America felt like our smarter, richer cousin type shit. Now it just feels like our weird incel cousin that got redpilled online and became fascist.

[00:11:25]Anyway, this feeling of inferiority was perhaps exacerbated in my case because when I was 5 years old, my mom, who was a TV reporter for Brazil's biggest TV network, Global, got sent here to New York City to become an international reporter. I spent three of my most formative years here. And when we moved back to Brazil, my parents didn't want me to lose my English, so they put me in American school. So yeah, I was living in Brazil, but I was being raised in this little international bubble, upper middle class Brazil. And in that world, Funky was looked down on. To people around me, that meant it was vulgar, messy, not real art. But here's the irony. On weekends, us kids, we would play it at every party. We loved it. It was fun.

[00:12:11]>> Now, you might think that this was just my experience, right? A third culture kid straddling between two worlds. But actually, this mindset of inferiority runs deep across Brazil. And it even has a name. It's called syndrome jirala, literally stray dog. The term was coined by playwright Nelson Rodriguez when Brazil lost the World Cup in 1950 at home. He said, "The complex of inferiority is so big that Brazilians are convinced that Brazil is the mongrel of the world. It's that feeling that anything foreign, especially American or European, is automatically better." Even funky in it.

[00:12:44]>> He's spitting right now. He's talking facts. But I'mma just put this out there. When the world thinks about Brazil, they think about Ronaldo R9, you know, they think about Kaka, they think about Ronaldo, they think about Neymar, every place in the global south thinks, yeah, America, Europe, that's where it's at. But when we think about soccer as Africans, it's Brazil. It's Brazil on top. There's no competition. earliest form reflected that mindset. It was born in the favllas but it was built on the samples of Miami bass an American sound. Even the word funky is just the Brazilian pronunciation of the English word funk.

[00:13:29]Just like the Brazilian pronunciation of Tik Tok is cheeky. It's important to understand this because our previous major cultural export at least in music had come from the upper middle class bosanova. So low key, most Brazilians never expected Funky to go global because it was in its essence everyday regular Joe Brazilian or I guess everyday regular not the type of Brazil you would expect to export to the like Brazil is not most people and she saw something in funky that the rest of Brazil couldn't yet see. Funky was something to be proud of. It was raw and authentic and it reflected the reality of millions of Brazilians, of most Brazilians. Funky didn't need to change to become global.

[00:14:15]The world just needed to hear it. But how do you take a genre that was born in the slums, rejected by its own country, ignored by the industry, and turn it into a global movement? And in a world of shifting algorithms and digital revolutions, how does a girl from the working-class suburbs of Rio take Funky to the world stage? For the past 10 years, I've flown back and forth between Rio and California, watching funky go from something that taste makers in Brazil wouldn't even touch to something I heard take over clubs in LA, New York, and ads, fashion runways everywhere. I didn't just read about this story. I had a front row seat to this cultural shift.

[00:14:48]And as a music producer and DJ, I lived inside it. And I'm here to share this story with you from the perspective of somebody who's seen both sides. Because the rise of Brazilian funk is not just a story about music. It's a story about power, access, and the question that everybody's asking. What makes a local sound go global? If you want to find out, hit subscribe and the notification bell because this is just the first video in a series where I attempt to unpack how Brazilian funk went from being misunderstood and undervalued to a widely accepted global phenomen.

[00:15:14]>> Oh, this the part one.

[00:15:17]>> This the part one. Yo, that was epic. I really enjoyed that. That was very educational. Appreciate the recommendation. And are we subscribing?

[00:15:28]Does anybody know Saint Hill music-wise?

[00:15:31]Like any good stand out music that he's made which I should check out? Cuz I mean I'm going to check out his stuff but I'm wondering if I should go on air or off air for it. Thank you guys for tuning in. Let me know if you guys want to see the part two. We are on to the next one. Peace.