São Paulo – The pandemic was a turning point in everyone’s life. Some moved to new cities, others lost their jobs, many mourned losses, and confined at home, everyone reflected on life’s brevity. It was in this context of apprehension and confinement that São Paulo native Samira Chamma began composing. Graduated in Architecture and Urbanism and working in the field, she saw music as a pleasure but had never considered art as a profession.
During the wave of pandemic live streams, she immersed herself in the work of other singers and songwriters like Flaira Ferro and Vanessa Moreno, realizing that music is more than just a profession—it’s a way of being in the world. She took courses, attended workshops, and studied guitar and singing more deeply. By then, she was already involved in groups of composers and artists. A filmmaker from one of these groups asked her for a song for a short film, which encouraged her to release the same track on Spotify, “O vazio”. In March 2022, her first song was out in the world. Or, as she puts it, “It stopped being mine and became of whoever was listening to it.”
Now 29 years old, Samira has been fully dedicated to music for a year and a half, after a period balancing architecture and art. Performing across the state of São Paulo, she has been building partnerships, especially with other women, such as Laís Gomes, with whom she formed a duo. In January, she took part in the album launch show of Coletivo Mulher at the São Paulo Cultural Center, alongside seven other female singers and songwriters. The project emerged from Batucantos, a samba circle created by Carla Franco to celebrate women’s songwriting.
Chamma knows she has arrived at a good moment for female songwriters—or at least a better one. “I know that not long ago, women were mostly confined to the role of interpreters, but today, there is more space for those who, besides singing, also compose.”
Now, Chamma is getting ready to release her first full album—in March, she will launch a crowdfunding campaign to bring the project to life. Estou Viva [Portuguese for “I’m Alive”]—the album’s title as well as the name of the show she has already been performing—is an MPB record that blends styles ranging from forró to samba, with hints of blues and ballads. “I’ve never stuck to just one style, and I want to explore all these rhythms, especially those of Brazilian music, the best in the world.”
The album is also the culmination of all the experiences she has had in music—“and in this process of self-exploration, the deep dive into finding myself through this new experience,” explains the songwriter. “I’ve been asked why I don’t release the songs gradually, but I feel like they only make sense together. They tell this story,” says Chamma.
Living off music is still a learning process. For the daughter of an engineer and a nurse who spent decades in the corporate world, it’s necessary to break away from the traditional professional model. There won’t be a Monday to Friday, from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., but rather the sum of the work done, without set days or hours. One of these tasks is vocal coaching. “At first, I thought I had to study more before I could teach, but I discovered that I love teaching, and now I feel more confident.” Her parents support her new career and are her loyal audience, attending every show.
Lebanese roots
Chamma doesn’t come from a family of musicians, but one of her grandfathers used to sing in the church. Her grandfathers from both her maternal and paternal sides came from Lebanon—one from the north, from the Akkar region, and the other from the south, from Hasbaya. Growing up with her grandfathers, who were merchants with their homes above their shops, one in the countryside of Paraná and the other in the countryside of São Paulo, she absorbed Arab references from all aroundd her.
In 2023, at the invitation of a maternal aunt who was attending a medical conference in Lebanon, Chamma traveled to her grandparents’ homeland. There, she visited the house where each of them was born. “My grandfather’s house in Hasbaya was very similar to the ones in Brazil—not on the outside, because the one in Lebanon was made of stone and very old, but inside: the decoration, the way things were organized, the tray used to serve coffee. Details that I remember very well from my childhood,” recalls the singer.
It was twelve days traveling across the country, and spending most of the time in the capital. “It’s an experience being in the East, everything is very different, and at the same time, Beirut reminds me of São Paulo in many ways, there’s a familiar chaos and also inequality,” she says. “Besides the food, which is impossible not to love—it’s always incredible. And very, very abundant, just like the gatherings in my family have always been.”
Go ahead:
Instagram: Samira Chamma – Coletivo Mulher
*Report by Débora Rubin, in collaboration with ANBA
Translated by Guilherme Miranda
