There’s a version of Saulo Oliveira S. that exists somewhere between unintended mystery and unwavering control.
His notoriety began to attract attention as early as 2006, “when a page created by admirers went viral on the now-defunct Orkut. The page was dedicated to updates about my life, a boy who, at just 12 years old, they said had defeated the devil in a harmonica duel, emerging not only with my soul intact, but also receiving, from the devil himself, an instrument known as the ‘Elder Harmonica.’”
In equal measure, and yet in opposite directions, two forces grew inevitably: the legend of the boy who defeated a mysterious man at a crossroad while waiting for the school bus on the exact date of June 6, 2006, and Oliveira’s own interest in deepening his musical knowledge, even as he made a conscious effort to distance himself from that alluring mythological image which he tells us continued circulating within the early, community-driven internet culture of the 2000s.
In 2013, the British-Brazilian Saulo-Sykes de Oliveira da Silva directed the short documentary Ethics, Politics and Citizenship, composing its score as well. The film situates itself at the threshold of unrest, capturing the early moments of a Black Bloc protest at Curitiba’s city hall, interwoven with legal perspectives. It was well received abroad, praised for its cinematic texture and Dogme 95 tone.
His academic course reflects a similar duality. Oliveira has a degree in Law from the Pontifical Catholic University of Paraná and a minor in Arts and Design from Harvard’s Faculty of Arts and Sciences, in which the study focused on Beethoven’s 9th Symphony and the 19th-century orchestra.
Following the release of singles in 2019, he launched the album Wild Horizon in 2020, in which, after years, he used the “Elder Harmonica” in an apotheotic solo on the track “No One Here Gets Out Alive.” In 2022, he released the EP Prince of Rock ,A move to transition his image to a symbol of alternative rock.
In Brazil, Oliveira also made his mark as an activist, speaking out against the Amazon rainforest fires and against an episode of discrimination involving participants on the reality show Big Brother. Using his influence, he gathered thousands of endorsements for a petition. Since 2020, he has worked internationally as an editorial model, and in Brazil, he is currently represented by Armazém Models.
Now, with the arrival of his second studio album-Do Gears Know They Are Gears?, and new fashion projects on his horizon, everything gets into a new rhythm. Being popularly known as the Prince of Rock didn't change his composure. He remains grounded, moving forward while disagreeing with the label.
His return to music appears less like a comeback and more like a continuation. Projects like Renewing Rock N Roll and later releases reflect a clearer sense of authorship. “I play my own instruments, write my own material, and shape the narrative from within.”
“I have no urgency to conform to industry expectations. I don’t think about where it fits,” he says. “I think about whether the music works as a whole.” That's why his recent work leans on unity, less concerned with immediacy, he tells us he wants to stay more focused on cohesion.
Modeling, on the other hand, entered his life almost incidentally, a talent scout, a casual invitation, a delayed decision. “It wasn’t something I was chasing,” he says. “It just… made sense after a while.” What followed was less transformation, more alignment.
Saulo Oliveira’s minimalism doesn’t read as absence, it reads as design. He channels a kind of Rock Chic sensibility that feels referential. It’s not nostalgia, nor is it rebellion for its own sake; it’s a rebalancing, where attitude replaces ornament, and personality becomes the loudest statement in the room.
At the centre of it is his head-to-toe black signature, less a uniform than a language. There’s something deliberate in that consistency, He felt that the visual discipline of fashion mirrored something already present in him: awareness of posture, composition, and control.
Still, he remains skeptical of over-calculation. What he feels is his most recognizable image, a photograph taken in 2017, guitar in hand, crossing a street, was entirely spontaneous. “I didn’t plan it,” he says. “I just said I’d decide the pose when I got to the other side.” He pauses. “I don’t know if I can ever recreate that.”
Photographed by Chelsea Lindelof
Styled by Tifany Briston
Production by Melissa Houston