Music isn't just background noise in Monterey. It's a character. Honestly, when you think about Big Little Lies, you don't just see the crashing waves or Celeste’s pristine kitchen. You hear it. You hear Michael Kiwanuka’s raspy, soulful voice pleading for "Cold Little Heart" to stay. That opening sequence changed how we look at TV music forever. The big little lies banda sonora isn't some curated collection of Top 40 hits designed to sell records; it’s a psychological blueprint of the show’s messy, beautiful, and violent world.
Jean-Marc Vallée, the late director who breathed life into the first season, had this specific obsession with "diegetic" music. Basically, that’s just a fancy term for music that the characters are actually listening to in their own lives. Whether it’s Chloe McKenzie—the youngest and coolest music supervisor to ever exist in a fictional universe—blasting tunes from her iPod, or Madeline driving her Volvo in a fury, the music is there in the room with them. It’s not just overlaid for our benefit. It’s their reality.
The Soul of Monterey: Why It Works
Most shows use music to tell you how to feel. If it’s a sad scene, here comes the piano. If it’s an action sequence, cue the synth. Big Little Lies does something different. It uses the big little lies banda sonora to reveal things the characters are too scared to say out loud.
Take "Cold Little Heart." Kiwanuka’s track is nearly ten minutes long in its original form, but the show trims it into this atmospheric, brooding invitation. It sets a tone of suppressed secrets. It feels like Monterey: expensive, polished, but deeply unsettled underneath.
Then you have Susan Jacobs. She’s the music supervisor who won the first-ever Emmy for Outstanding Music Supervision for this show. She didn't just pick "cool" songs. She looked for tracks that felt like they had history. This is why you hear so much Leon Bridges, Charles Bradley, and Martha Wainwright. These are artists who sound like they’ve lived through something. They provide a gritty contrast to the high-end real estate and the $500 sweaters the "Monterey Five" wear.
Breaking Down the Essential Tracks
If you’re looking for the heart of the big little lies banda sonora, you have to start with the soul.
Charles Bradley is the MVP here. His cover of "Changes" by Black Sabbath? It’s gut-wrenching. It plays during a moment of profound isolation, and Bradley’s voice—weathered and raw—cuts through the bullshit of the characters' lives. It’s soul music in the literal sense. It touches the parts of the human experience that are universal, even if you don't live in a multi-million dollar mansion on the California coast.
📖 Related: Isaiah Washington Movies and Shows: Why the Star Still Matters
Then there is the Leon Bridges factor. "River" is used so effectively it almost feels like a prayer. The show loves these moments of stillness. Sometimes the music stops entirely, leaving only the sound of the ocean, which is its own kind of soundtrack. But when "River" hits, it offers a sense of absolution that the characters are constantly chasing.
The Chloe McKenzie Influence
We have to talk about Chloe. Madeline’s youngest daughter is basically the gatekeeper of the show’s vibe. The creators used her character to bridge the gap between vintage soul and modern indie.
- She plays Alabama Shakes. "Don't Wanna Fight" captures the domestic tension perfectly.
- She’s into Sufjan Stevens. "Mystery of Love" (though more famous for Call Me By Your Name) fits that ethereal, dreamy Monterey fog.
- She digs The Flaming Lips.
It’s a bit of a running joke how a child has the musical taste of a 40-year-old record store owner, but it works because it highlights the sophistication and the pressure of these families. Even the kids aren't really allowed to be kids. They are extensions of their parents' curated lives.
Season 2 and the Shift in Tone
When the show returned for a second season, the stakes changed. The secret was out—at least among the core group—and the guilt was rotting them from the inside. The big little lies banda sonora shifted to reflect that.
Andrea Arnold took over directing duties, and while the "diegetic" rule remained, the songs felt a bit more jagged. We got more of the 70s rock vibes. Fleetwood Mac’s "Dreams" makes an appearance, which is almost too perfect for a show about beautiful people with messy interconnected lives.
One of the standout moments from the second season is the use of "The Spinning Wheel" by Shirley Bassey. It’s theatrical. It’s grand. It matches the arrival of Mary Louise (played by the legendary Meryl Streep). The music had to level up to match Streep’s energy, and it did. It became more aggressive, more pointed.
👉 See also: Temuera Morrison as Boba Fett: Why Fans Are Still Divided Over the Daimyo of Tatooine
Why We Are Still Obsessed
Why do we keep Googling "big little lies soundtrack" years later?
Nuance.
Most TV soundtracks are disposable. You hear a song, you Shazzam it, you forget it. But the tracks selected here are timeless. They aren't tied to a specific "trend" of 2017 or 2019. By leaning heavily into 60s and 70s soul, and mixing it with timeless indie folk, the show created an auditory aesthetic that doesn't age.
There’s also the "California Myth" aspect. The music evokes a very specific sense of place. It’s Big Sur. It’s Highway 1. It’s the feeling of driving with the windows down while your life is falling apart. People want to inhabit that world, even the dark parts of it.
A Quick List of Must-Listen Deep Cuts
If you've already replayed "Cold Little Heart" a thousand times, you need to dig deeper into these:
- "Victim of Love" by Charles Bradley: This is the raw energy the show thrives on.
- "September Song" by Agnes Obel: For those moments when the fog rolls in and everything feels haunted.
- "Super Rich Kids" by Frank Ocean: A bit on the nose? Maybe. But it fits the Monterey vibe too well to ignore.
- "It’s Over" by Roy Orbison: Used during the trivia night/climax of Season 1. It’s hauntingly prophetic.
- "How’s the World Treating You" by Elvis Presley: A classic that underscores the loneliness of these women.
The Legacy of the Sound
The big little lies banda sonora set a new bar for how streaming services and networks approach music. You see its influence in shows like Euphoria or The White Lotus, where the music is an aggressive, tactile part of the storytelling. It’s no longer just about filling the silence; it’s about creating an atmosphere so thick you could choke on it.
✨ Don't miss: Why Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy Actors Still Define the Modern Spy Thriller
It also revitalized the careers of some artists. Michael Kiwanuka was already respected, but Big Little Lies made him a household name. It brought vintage soul back into the mainstream conversation for a younger audience. It proved that you don't need the latest pop hits to make a show feel "current." You just need honesty.
The truth is, the music in this show acts as a confession. These women—Celeste, Madeline, Jane, Bonnie, and Renata—spend so much time lying to themselves and each other. The music is the only thing that tells the truth. When Bonnie is dancing alone to a soul record, we see the woman she was before she was stifled by Monterey. When Celeste listens to something quiet and devastating, we see her pain.
How to Build Your Own Monterey Playlist
If you want to capture this vibe in your own life, you have to look for the "scars" in the music. Avoid anything too polished or over-produced. You want voices that crack. You want instruments that sound like they are being played in a garage or a basement.
Start with the staples:
- The Soul Icons: Otis Redding, Irma Thomas, Martha Wainwright.
- The Modern Torchbearers: Leon Bridges, Michael Kiwanuka, Brittany Howard (Alabama Shakes).
- The Atmospheric Indie: Agnes Obel, PJ Harvey, Feist.
Mix them without a particular order. The big little lies banda sonora is chaotic. It jumps from a 1950s ballad to a 2010s indie rock anthem without blinking. That’s the magic. It’s the sound of a mind that’s constantly racing, trying to keep a dozen different lies from crashing into each other.
Moving Forward with the Music
To truly appreciate the depth of this curation, stop listening to the "Best Of" playlists on Spotify for a second. Go find the full albums of the artists featured. Listen to Michael Kiwanuka’s Love & Hate in its entirety. Check out Charles Bradley’s No Time for Dreaming.
When you hear these songs in their original context, you realize how much work Susan Jacobs and Jean-Marc Vallée put into the show. They didn't just pick songs; they picked stories.
If you're looking for the next step to deepen your connection to the show's world, start exploring the discography of Leon Bridges and Agnes Obel. These two represent the dual nature of the show: the soulful warmth of the friendships and the chilling, cold reality of the secrets they keep. Creating a personal "Monterey" playlist isn't just about the songs from the show—it's about finding music that feels like a heavy fog lifting on a rocky coastline. Look for tracks that balance beauty with a sense of impending dread. That is the true essence of the Monterey sound.