Julio is a Senior Author for Collider. He studied History and International Relations at university, but found his calling in cultural journalism. When he isn’t writing, Julio also teaches English at a nearby school. He has lived in São Paulo most of his life, where he covers CCXP and other big events. Having loved movies, music, and TV from an early age, he prides himself in knowing every minute detail about the things he loves. When he is older, he dreams of owning a movie theater in a small countryside town.
One of the best things about music (and art in general) is how certain songs end up meaning something completely different for certain people than what the original artist intended. Such is the case of The Police‘s “So Lonely,” one of the best tracks on their debut album, Outlandos D’Amour. In 1980s Brazil, during the infamous military dictatorship period, “So Lonely” became an unlikely protest song thanks to a joke about the head of the censorship department made by musician Leo Jaime. After having most of his previous work butchered by the authorities, he eventually found it within himself to directly address the person responsible in one of his songs, turning the Police banger into the incredibly witty “Solange (So Lonely),” an absolute classic of Brazilian rock.
“Solange (So Lonely)” Directly Calls Out the Head of Censorship in Brazil During the Military Dictatorship
In the early 1980s, Leo Jaime had just left the irreverent rockabilly band João Penca e seus Miquinhos Amestrados looking to start a solo career. The problem, of course, was that time’s censorship. The head of the censorship department, Solange Hernandes, was known for being unnecessarily strict and had a particular dislike for Jaime’s work, going so far as censoring his entire debut album and giving it the equivalent to an R-rating, pretty much killing any chance of success. Frustrated, he then named it Phodas “C,” a play on the Brazilian expression for “f*ck it.”
During the production of his second album, Sessão da Tarde, Jaime was reading a book with The Police lyrics in the apartment he shared in Rio de Janeiro with another Brazilian rock legend, Leoni, and found the lyrics to “So Lonely,” but didn’t remember the song. He asked Leoni about it, who then answered with a joke, saying it was called “Solange”, a nod to how similar the name sounds to the title of the song. The idea for a new version clicked immediately, and the two of them got to work.
The final version of the song is pretty much like the Avengers of 1980s rock in Rio assembling. Jaime takes lead vocals, with Paula Toller from Kid Abelha providing backing vocals that can only be described as angelical. Power trio Os Paralamas do Sucesso served as the backing musicians — guitarist Herbert Vianna, bassist Bi Ribeiro, and drummer João Barone, who are seen as the Brazilian “heirs” of The Police. As a result, “Solange (So Lonely)” is much heavier than the original song in both melody and lyrics.
Solange Led the Censorship Department During Brazil’s Military Dictatorship With an Iron Fist
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The lyrics to “Solange (So Lonely)” might seem like they’re about bitter heartbreak at first, but all it takes is one simple look to dismiss this notion. Jaime openly calls out Solange Hernandes’ work as head of censorship, explicitly telling her to “stop censoring me” and promising revenge. Instead of the loneliness felt by the speaker in the original The Police song, the heartbreak and frustration in Jaime’s take comes from not being able to express himself because of Solange’s censorship.
Jaime was far from the only artist blatantly censored by Solange, of course. As head of the censorship department of the military regime, she was known popularly as “Dame of the Scissors” and even compared to Margaret Thatcher. Even as the regime approached its end, she was still at full steam and censored everything she considered subversive, with a recent study estimating a total of around 2,517 songs, 173 movies, 42 theater plays, and 87 soap opera episodes.
Solange’s clashes with artists were as impactful as her numbers ahead of the censorship department. She censored many other artists besides Leo Jaime, including Rita Lee, who also left her own tribute to Solange in her song “Arrombando o Cofre,” saying: “Among the hardliners, Censorship Solange is enough.” Even in soap operas, nods to her weren’t unusual, like the authoritarian Colonel Sinhozinho Malta’s (Lima Duarte), whose jewelry-rattling habits in Roque Santeiro were modeled after Solange, according to writer Aguinaldo Silva.
Censorship and Repression Lasted for as Long as the Military Dictatorship Existed in Brazil
The “revenge” Leo Jaime promised in the lyrics came with the end of the military dictatorship in 1985 following the Diretas Já movement. After that, censors tried to cling to power for as long as they could, but there is no room for censorship in democracy. Most of them tried to hide and evade public attention after that, as Solange did, but their damage had already been successfully done. For example, everyone still remembers her signature showing up before every movie screening or soap opera episode airing.
As Jaime once recalled, when “Solange (So Lonely)” came out in 1985, Solange herself was rather pleased and even asked for an acoustic recording to show her friends, adding insult to injury. That would be one of her last acts as head of censorship, though. She would only speak publicly again in 2010, when she said in an interview: “I’m not ferocious, I don’t bite.” Countless records, movies, and other artistic works with missing chunks state otherwise.
When the original “So Lonely” came out, Sting and The Police certainly didn’t imagine it could ever become a protest song, but, only seven years later, it did. Although structurally similar, “Solange (So Lonely)” is heavier than the original in every way, and carries an even more significant legacy than its predecessor as an unlikely hymn against authoritarian censorship and repression.
Based on your personality, energy, and taste, the classic rock band that matches your soul is…
You are pure, undiluted rock energy. You don’t need tricks, trends, or theatrical gimmicks — you have something more powerful: a riff that hits like a thunderbolt and an attitude that never wavers. Like AC/DC, you understand that simplicity executed with absolute conviction is its own form of genius. You’re the person in the room who doesn’t overthink it, doesn’t pretend, and never turns the volume down. The highway to hell is a state of mind — and you’ve been on it since day one.
You’ve got swagger that can’t be taught. Rooted in the blues and soaked in street-level attitude, you move through life with a loose, dangerous elegance that draws people in without ever trying too hard. Like the Stones, you’ve seen it all, done most of it, and somehow look better for it. You’re not chasing perfection — you’re chasing truth, groove, and that electric moment when everything clicks. Can’t always get what you want? You tend to get it anyway.
You go hard or you go home — and you almost always go hard. Intense, dedicated, and fiercely loyal to what you believe in, you don’t do anything halfway. Like Metallica, your passion runs deeper than most people’s will ever go, and when you care about something, it shows in every detail. You’re drawn to darkness not because you’re cynical, but because you’re honest — and honest people know the world isn’t always pretty. Enter Sandman. Nothing else matters. That’s your philosophy.
You are magnificent, and you know it — not from arrogance, but from an unshakeable sense of self that has never needed anyone’s permission. Like Queen, you defy every category people try to place you in. You blend the epic with the intimate, the operatic with the anthemic, the serious with the playful. You live boldly, love fiercely, and perform every aspect of your life as though the whole world is watching. Because sometimes it is. We are the champions — and so are you.
You have the rarest of gifts: the ability to make something that feels both deeply personal and universally human. Like The Beatles, you’re a natural connector — someone whose warmth, curiosity, and creative instincts draw people together across every divide. You believe in melody, in craftsmanship, and in the quiet power of a song that says exactly what someone needed to hear. You’ve changed the people around you just by being who you are. All you need is love — and you give it generously.
Who’s Your Perfect Classic Rock Band?
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