SOFI TUKKER, Chacal and reverse meta-antropophagy

When English Step Aside from the Scene for Brazilian Portuguese

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Languages usually follow a very predictable pattern in the global music industry. English, as the dominant global tongue, tends to swallow other languages, appearing in songs across Europe, Asia, Africa, and Latin America.

For decades, artists outside of the English-speaking world have chosen English as their medium, hoping to reach a wider audience. From K-pop stars in South Korea to Latin American singers like Shakira, the logic has seemed clear: if you want to go global, you must sing in English.

But every once in a while, we encounter a surprising reversal. Instead of English consuming another language, the flow of influence turns the other way. A striking example of this reversal can be found in the music of SOFI TUKKER, a duo composed of Sophie Hawley-Weld (born in Germany, raised in the U.S.) and Tucker Halpern (from the U.S.).

Despite having no direct ties to Brazil, both artists have chosen to sing entire tracks in Brazilian Portuguese, drawing inspiration from the poetry of Chacal, one of Brazil’s most distinctive contemporary poets.

Their songs Drinkee (2016) and Swing (2019) are full adaptations of Brazilian poems, delivered entirely in Portuguese, set against infectious electronic beats. Sophie herself has admitted in interviews that she initially sang in Portuguese without understanding it, but later decided to study the language because she loved its sound.

To her, Portuguese felt “sexy,” musical, and alive. For that statement, we can see that the choice is not about market strategy, but is about aesthetics, about the pleasure of sound.

This choice is unusual, even radical, when we think of the dynamics of cultural and linguistic power. It resonates deeply with the Brazilian concept of antropofagia (or cultural cannibalism), first articulated by modernist poet Oswald de Andrade in 1928.

Andrade proposed that Brazil could form its unique cultural identity by “devouring” foreign influences and transforming them into something new. Meta-anthropophagy pushes this idea one level deeper, into the realm of language itself. It is not just about mixing cultural elements anymore; it is about consuming and reshaping entire linguistic systems.

Languages, under meta-anthropophagy, are not sacred or pure; they are porous, hybrid, and constantly reinvented through contact.

In most cases, meta-anthropophagy today means Portuguese, Spanish, Korean, Hindi, or other languages absorbing English and reworking it into hybrid forms. But SOFI TUKKER offer us a rare and fascinating twist: what we might call reverse meta-anthropophagy. Instead of Portuguese bending to English, they let Portuguese reshape their art.

This reversal is striking. In a world where English usually colonizes the soundscape, here we have English-speaking artists willingly stepping aside to let Portuguese take center stage.

And in doing so, they remind us that language is not just a tool for communication, but also an aesthetic force, a rhythm, and a body of sound that can seduce even those who did not grow up speaking it.

In this essay, I will explore how SOFI TUKKER’s choice embodies reverse meta-anthropophagy: a playful yet profound case where the global language gives way to a “peripheral” one.

To understand this, we will look closely at the poems of Chacal, the philosophical weight behind his words, and how SOFI TUKKER’s music transforms them into global dance-floor anthems.

Along the way, we will see how Portuguese, often overlooked on the world stage, emerges as a sensual and powerful language capable of reconfiguring the very structures of global pop..

Part 1. Chacal’s Poetry as the Seed

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To understand why SOFI TUKKER’s choice is so unusual and meaningful, we first need to look at the source material: the poetry of Chacal.

Chacal (the pen name of Ricardo de Carvalho Duarte) is a Brazilian poet who emerged in the 1970s as part of what became known as the poesia marginal, or marginal poetry movement.

This was a time in Brazil marked by dictatorship, censorship, and political repression. Against this backdrop, Chacal and other poets began to write in a way that was deliberately simple, direct, and close to everyday speech.

The “marginal” poets rejected academic formality. They preferred poems that could be read quickly, memorized easily, and even recited in casual settings. Their work often feels closer to a conversation, a song, or even graffiti than to what people usually imagine as “serious literature.”

They also often published their work through mimeographs, distributing thin booklets hand to hand on the streets of Rio de Janeiro. Their words traveled not through institutions, but through people. It was poetry that refused to wait for permission, that refused to be considered mature enough.

This was not because their ideas were shallow. On the contrary, the simplicity gave their words a sharpness and accessibility that made them powerful.

One of Chacal’s most famous poems is titled “Uma palavra” (“A Word”). It is short, playful, but also deeply philosophical. Here is the original version in Portuguese:

uma palavra

uma palavra escrita é uma palavra não dita é uma palavra maldita é uma palavra gravada como gravata que é uma palavra gaiata como goiaba que é uma palavra gostosa

— Chacal

And here is a careful translation into English:

a word

a word written is a word not spoken is a cursed word is a word engraved like a necktie that is a word mischievous like a guava that is a tasty word

— Chacal

At first glance, this might look like wordplay or nonsense. But notice what the poem is doing: it is turning the very idea of the written word inside out.

Chacal suggests that once a word is written down, it loses some of its life. A written word is no longer said; it becomes static, frozen, even “cursed.”

He then compares the word to objects that have qualities we can feel: a necktie (formal, stiff), a guava (sweet, juicy), something mischievous or playful. In doing so, he reminds us that words are not only vehicles of meaning, they are also sounds, textures, and sensations.

This idea echoes a very old philosophical concern. The Greek philosopher Socrates, as recorded by Plato, once argued that writing was dangerous for thought. He feared that writing would trap words, removing them from the living exchange of dialogue, where meaning is negotiated between speaker and listener. Chacal’s poem resonates with this ancient suspicion. To write a word is to limit it, to condemn it to a fixed form.

But we can also read the poem through the lens of Object-Oriented Ontology (OOO). In this framework, objects (including words) are not simply instruments for human use, but entities with their own reality, withdrawn from us, carrying their own tendencies and potentials.

A word, from this perspective, might “want” to be spoken, just as a drum “wants” to be struck or a seed “wants” to germinate. Writing imprisons it in a static state, but sound releases it, allowing it to act in the world.

This is where SOFI TUKKER’s choice becomes even more fascinating. By taking Chacal’s poem and setting it to music (by making it something sung, danced to, and embodied) they return the word to the realm of the spoken and the performed.

What was once “cursed” on the page is liberated through rhythm, voice, and movement. The poem finds a new life, not only in Brazil but on dance floors around the world.

Part 2. Drinkee: The First Fusion

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Before Swing, SOFI TUKKER had already experimented with bringing Brazilian poetry into the global music scene.

Their breakthrough single Drinkee (2015) was the first moment when they took a Brazilian poem and turned it into an international hit. The track is built entirely from lines by Chacal, taken from his poem Relógio (“Clock”).

Here is the original poema, as sang by SOFI TUKKER: Relógio

Relógio

com deus mi deito com deus mi levanto comigo eu calo comigo eu canto eu bato um papo eu bato um ponto eu tomo um drink eu fico tonto.

– Chacal

Here is a translation to english:

Clock

with god I lie down, with god I rise with myself I’m silent, with myself I sing I strike up a chat, I strike up a beat I take a drink, I get dizzy

– Chacal

Repeated, chanted, layered over a pulsing electronic rhythm and a guitar riff, these lines become hypnotic. What begins as simple verse turns into something ritualistic, almost like an incantation.

The meaning of the words is playful and direct, but their power comes less from semantic content than from rhythm, sound, and repetition. This is very much in the spirit of Chacal’s poetry, where everyday speech is transformed into art by being spoken aloud.

What makes Drinkee so unusual is not just the fact that it is sung almost entirely in Portuguese, but that Sophie and Tucker themselves are not native speakers. Sophie has explained in interviews that she initially sang in Portuguese without even understanding it.

She loved the sound so much that she later decided to study the language properly, spending time in Brazil and connecting with poets like Chacal. She has even said that she finds Portuguese “sexy” and “alive,” and that the way it flows in music drew her in.

This context matters, because in most cases artists outside Brazil would translate such a poem into English in order to reach a wider audience. SOFI TUKKER did the opposite: they chose to preserve the Portuguese, even at the risk of limiting comprehension for much of their global listenership.

Yet this “risk” became their strength. Instead of alienating audiences, it gave the song a distinctive charm. On the dance floor, the mystery of the words only added to the experience, and listeners around the world learned to chant along in Portuguese.

In this sense, Drinkee can be seen as the first act of what we might call reverse meta-anthropophagy. Rather than Portuguese being devoured and reshaped by English, it is Portuguese that takes the lead, pulling English-speaking artists into its orbit.

The language itself becomes the star, not as a transparent medium of meaning, but as a raw material of rhythm, voice, and seduction.

This is why Drinkee feels so groundbreaking. It takes the marginal poetry of Brazil, born in opposition to dictatorship and elitism, and catapults it into global pop culture without translation, without compromise.

The result is a reminder that sometimes the most powerful art emerges when we allow languages to remain strange, sensual, and untamed.

Conclusion: Reverse Meta-Anthropophagy

SOFI TUKKER’s Drinkee and Swing show us a rare phenomenon: reverse meta-anthropophagy.

Instead of the global language (English) devouring the local one, it is Portuguese that takes command, reshaping how global music can sound.

This is not simply about translation or even about cultural borrowing. It is about allowing a supposedly “minor language” to become major on the global stage, not by hiding its strangeness, but by flaunting it.

Chacal’s poems, once marginal in Brazil, now pulse through international clubs and festivals, still in Portuguese, still carrying their playfulness and their philosophy.

In this sense, SOFI TUKKER’s music reminds us that linguistic power is never absolute. English may dominate, but it can also be reshaped, resisted, and even displaced. Meta-anthropophagy, whether forward or reverse, dissolves the boundaries that separate languages into neat categories.

It shows us that languages live not only in dictionaries or grammar books, but in bodies, voices, rhythms, and dances.

The lesson is simple yet profound: no language is too peripheral, and every language has the power to reinvent global culture when given the chance to break free from the prison of writing and be spoken and sung.

This text was originally published on The Brazilian Mutt.