On December 12th, singer-songwriter Juliê presents “Só Quis Te Amar (#EuSouMSSessions)”, a single released by Marã Música that revisits the pain of an unexpected ending with the sensitivity of someone who transforms rupture into a new beginning. The track — an intense and contemporary romantic pagode — portrays the silent collapse of a relationship that seemed solid, while revealing the first steps towards freedom after the fall. Between memories, objects that have lost their meaning, and unanswered questions, the song embraces those who have already been surprised by a goodbye that didn’t match the discourse of perfect love.
Even marked by melancholy, “Só Quis Te Amar” relies on a light and pulsating sound, mixing cavaquinho, tantan, pandeiro and open harmonies in a “pagode that hurts, but hurts while swaying,” as the artist defines it. The contrast between swing and longing reinforces the duality present in the narrative: feeling the pain, but continuing to dance; lamenting the end, but rediscovering one’s own strength. For Juliê, the song speaks of emotional dignity—of recognizing one’s own worth and refusing to remain in what hurts: “The song begins in pain, but doesn’t end there. There’s a shift in strength. Loving can’t be a mistake.”
The release is also accompanied by a live session — part of the #EuSouMSSessions project — in which Juliê shares the track with Tony Angelo, one of the song’s composers. The recording captures the liberating energy she found in the song, highlighting her ability to unite voice, body, and emotion in an authentic performance. Originally from Campo Grande (MS) and a multifaceted artist who moves between rap, R&B, pop, and MPB, Juliê inaugurates a new chapter in her creative journey with this single, reaffirming her versatility and the emotional power of her interpretation.
“I Only Wanted to Love You” tells the story of an abrupt ending, the kind that leaves you devastated. When you think about this story today, what was the first feeling that came before the pain—shock, clarity, or silence?
Before the pain came the silence. As if it were a brief warning.
The music blends melancholy with a danceable pagode rhythm, almost as if the body is saying what the heart doesn’t yet understand. How did you find this balance between crying and swaying?
I always say that pagode/samba has this power; it embraces the pain without letting us sink into it. The balance emerged when I realized I didn’t need to choose between suffering and moving on. The melody helps me digest this feeling from my perspective. Crying and swaying became the most honest way to tell this story.
The song was born from a meeting between friends and songwriters. When you first heard the song—and fell silent before the swear word—what exactly struck you so deeply that you thought, “this song is mine”?
It was the truth! The connection of the context. When I heard the chorus, I felt my chest open in freedom, it seemed like someone had put into words everything I still couldn’t say. The silence before the swear word was my body reacting: ‘wait, were you there?’. Right then I knew that this song wouldn’t pass through my life by chance.
You say that singing “forget my name…” didn’t come with sadness, but with relief. At what point in the process did you realize that the song was no longer just about pain, but about liberation?
When I sang ‘forget my name’ for the first time, it didn’t hurt. It came out strong, it came out clean, it came out resolved. That’s when I realized that the song wasn’t about what we lost anymore, it was about what we recovered within ourselves.
You’ve always moved between rap, R&B, MPB (Brazilian Popular Music), and pop. Did pagode come as an unexpected genre or as an internal door that already existed and just needed to be opened?
Pagode/samba has always been a part of me, because I dance Samba de Gafieira and it’s actually my favorite ballroom dance style. In this EP, I wanted to bring together all the existing facets of Juliê; those who know me already know the connections. When the music came about, it was like coming home in a new way. It wasn’t unexpected, it was kind of inevitable.
A live session carries a very strong emotional charge, even more so with Tony Angelo sharing the recording with you. What changed in the music when you sang it “eye to eye,” with him right there by your side?
Everything changed. In the session, the music took shape, it gained truth. It’s as if the music had found the right place to exist. Singing with Tony, one of my best friends, gave me courage. Having a trio of backing vocalists has always been a dream, and making it a reality on the EP with great friends by my side is priceless; I was radiant with their presence.
Your work always unites body and voice. In your interpretation of “Só Quis Te Amar,” what movement—physical or emotional—was essential to bringing to life what you wanted to convey?
The main movement was breathing, to be able to SAMBA. It seems simple, but taking a deep breath opened up space for the emotion to come in fully and sway without suffering. In that emotion, it was about accepting that I was going to sing vulnerable the whole time. That surrender was essential.
The song speaks of endings, but you speak of new beginnings. What message would you want someone to hear when playing this track at a time when everything seems to be falling apart?
I want this person to know that they haven’t lost their value. That not every ending is a defeat; most are a beginning. If ‘I Only Wanted to Love You’ arrives at this moment, may it arrive as a hug and as a reminder: you deserve a love that stays, not one that leaves you searching for answers.
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