Monday, September 10, 2007

Illegal Tender: Hispanixploitation?


(Haga click aquí para la versión en español, publicada en El Diario / La Prensa.)

In a short film review, the New York Times says Illegal Tender (released August 24) is the typical urban action movie, but with a new twist the paper dubs “Hispanixploitation.” The term is, of course, indebted to the “blaxploitation” films that first became popular in the 1970s and that have specialized in sensationalizing the African American “underworld.”

According to the Times, the same traffic in stereotypes (but with a Latino twist) is now available through this movie written and directed by Franc. Reyes, produced by John Singleton, and starring Wanda de Jesús, Manny Pérez and Tego Calderón. Now “Latinoness” is the lucrative seasoning for the crime and sex fantasies that have historically fueled much of the film industry.


Not that the formula is new. Scarface (1983) is definitely the most prominent example, but there are many others. What makes Illegal Tender different is that it was made with ample resource$, written and directed by a Puerto Rican, with Latino characters and actors, and uses as a commercial hook the growing global success of Latino urban music and culture. Neither is it common that in this movie the action goes way beyond ghetto borders and its protagonists move just as easily in university circles and in moneyed Connecticut suburbs. (A welcome change, according to me.)

Illegal Tender did not debut as a box office hit and it has not received great acclaim among critics. Rottentomatoes.com says the acting is weak and the plot is ridiculous; the Times describes the dialogues as “telenovela style.” (I have to agree on all counts.) So it remains to be seen if other directors, producers and film studios will follow this approach that at the same time shatters and perpetuates stereotypes. I’ll be happy if next time someone comes up with an equally Hispanixploitative film it at least has good plot, acting and dialogue.



And Tego? Tego did a good job. I say bring him back on.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Reggaeton and censorship, Dominican Republic



(Si prefieres leer en español, ve a mi columna de hoy, 29 de agosto, en El Diario / La Prensa titulada "La censura en calzoncillos" haciendo click aquí.)


There's a saying in Spanish about hypocritical folks preaching morality in their underwear. Well, here we have them at it once again.

For the last week, Spanish-language headlines have been reporting on the newest attempts to censor reggaeton in the Dominican Republic. (See El País, El Diario, Hoy.)

My reaction has been: O.k. here we go with the same sterile debate. Again.

The dissemination of reggaeton songs that "promote the consumption and traffic of drugs" has been described as "criminal actions" by none other than the president of the National Department of Drug Control (Dirección Nacional de Control de Drogas), Rafael Radhamés Ramírez Ferreira, and the Attorney General, Radhamés Jiménez Peña. Both have made it clear that their intent is NOT to prohibit reggaeton as a whole, but just certain songs.

And how do they propose to "control," "regulate," or identify these certain songs? The officials have said they still don't have the answer and are studying the facts to then determine how to proceed. Meanwhile, they ask radio stations and even artists to collaborate with them by not promoting music that is "harmful" to young people.

Newspaper El País reported that Jiménez Peña described the “rhythm of Puerto Rican origin” as “‘propaganda’ turned music that threatens the buenas costumbres and morality of Dominicans.”

What a flashback! That was exactly what was heard so many times in Puerto Rico around 1995. Back then, the genre known as "underground" was accused of being a foreign genre, based on U.S. rap and Jamaican reggae, that was corrupting the Island's youth and musical traditions.

A decade later, underground's baby boy, now known as reggaeton, is described by many as native to Puerto Rico and is accused of corrupting Dominicans.

It's always someone else's fault. Right? Adults blame youth. Dominicans blame Puerto Ricans. Puerto Ricans blame the U.S. and Jamaican ghettoes where rap and reggae where born.

Folks: If young people live gangster realities and/or purchase gangster fantasies... we are all at fault—particularly those hypocritical, corrupt, gangsterish governments that love to preach morality (and censorship) in their underwear.

Reggaetón y censura en República Dominicana



Vienen diciendo los titulares desde la semana pasada: ¡Quieren censurar al reggaetón en República Dominicana! Mi reacción—al igual que la de muchos otros—ha sido: O.k., aquí vamos con el mismo debate estéril. De nuevo.

Para leer el resto de mi columna de hoy, 29 de agosto, en El Diario / La Prensa titulada "La censura en calzoncillos" haz click aquí.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Rapeando contra la brutalidad policiaca

La canción más reciente que escuché sobre el tema (y proveniente de Puerto Rico) es de Siloé Andino (autor del excelente "Lamento del graffitero" inspirada en el clásico "Lamento borincano" de Rafael Hernández). Esta nueva canción se titula "¿Quién?" y está disponible para bajarla gratis de su página de myspace. Me gusta mucho lo sencillo, cotidiano y a la vez impactante de cómo Siloé construye sus versos. Eso de hablarle directamente al difunto Miguel Cáceres le rompe el corazón a uno.



Quién te vela, quién te cuida
Quién protege, quién te guía
Quién bendice tu entrada, quién bendice tu salida
Quién gobierna tu existencia
Quién socorre a tu familia
Dime quién

Caminar por la calle no es seguro en estos días
Si no es un criminal, te dispara un policía
Si no corres con la suerte de grabarlo en un video
Creo que lamentablemente, tu caso es uno feo
Si te toca algún cobarde de esos que matan sin pena
Será cosa de minutos en lo que se cuadra la escena
La historia se repite como dice Rafa Bracero
Y las imágenes terribles recorren al mundo entero
A las once de la noche cuando empieza el noticiero
Dirán todos que el occiso fue quien disparó primero

Siloé


Haga click aquí para acceder a mi columna del pasado miércoles 22 de agosto en El Diario / La Prensa.

La columna está basada en mis últimos dos blogs en inglés e inspirada por las intervenciones musicales en contra de la brutalidad y la corrupción policiaca de Welmo,
Julio Voltio


y Calle 13.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Voltio, Calle 13: New songs on police brutality in PR

Download Julio Voltio's "En lo claro" by clicking here.


An excerpt:

Por ser rapero me catalogan como tecato
Maleante, narcotraficante
Marihuanero, pistolero
Delicuente habitual, criminal arrogante
Pero pa'lante
Por lo más finito es que se parte la soga
Déjame decirte que ya yo pasé la etapa
De las pistolitas, de las gangas
De la loquera y las drogas[...]
Oye Toledo
Brega sin miedo
¿Tú quieres limpiar la calle?
Limpia tu casa primero


Listen to Calle 13's "Tributo a la policía" by clicking here.

An excerpt:

A ti te dedico to' lo que dice mi libreta
A ti mismo, al que mató a mi hermano Christopher, puñeta
El mismo que le partió las muñecas
El mismo que allá adentro va a tener que cuadrar con los Ñeta
También mataron a Arnaldo Darío y a Santiago Mari Pesquera
Carlos Enrique, por estar agarraos a una misma bandera[...]
Pero esto no se trata de hacerle daño a un ser humano
Ni de cómo te gustaría verle la boca llena de gusanos
Se trata de que hay que estar sicológicamente mal de la mente
Pa' matar gente sin razón como en el Medio Oriente
Con los fóquin gringos

Click here for today's Primera Hora article on Calle 13 & collaborators distributing the song yesterday at a traffic light near the General Police headquarters in Hato Rey.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Police Brutality in PR: RIP Miguel Cáceres

I've been a bit disconnected from the news. I've been in Miami and concentrating on family time.

Then I got a myspace bulletin with MC Welmo's song "No!!!" (Click here to listen.) It's an angry commentary on the racist and classist nature of police brutality in Puerto Rico. It mentioned incidents I had heard of in the last few months: Villa Cañona in Loíza and San José in Rio Piedras. But Welmo, in this song, was ranting about a recent murder: a man with the last name Cáceres who had been shot while unnarmed and face-down on the floor.

"No!!!" by Welmo:

Se soltaron las bestias en uniforme
Corre por tu vida pa que el cuerpo no te deformen
Bajan las macanas sobre pieles negras
Marrón la sangre que inunda la tierra
Vienen con los ojos demoniacos, armadura y chalecos
Y su cura romper bocas y huesos
Dígame Toledo quién fue el que dió la orden
Dime porqué empujan cuando estoy al borde del precipicio
A Cáceres lo ejecutaron en el piso y por la espalda

[The beasts in uniform are on the loose
Run for your life so they won't maim your body
Billy clubs come down on black skin
Brown is the blood that floods the earth
They come with demon eyes, armor and vests
And their aim is to break mouths and bones
Tell me, Toledo, who gave the order
Tell me why they push when I'm standing
On the border of the precipice
Cáceres was executed on the floor and from the back]

I didn't even get to hear verse 2 and I was googling "Cáceres" and "police brutality." Below is the enraging homevideo that aired on TV of Miguel Cáceres' murder last Saturday in Humacao, Puerto Rico.







More on Cáceres' murder in El Nuevo Día and BBC News.

Today, Wednesday August 15th, there will be a protest at 5p.m. in front of the Police General Headquarters in Hato Rey, Puerto Rico.

R.I.P. Miguel Cáceres. And much strength to his community and his family.

Props to Welmo on a quick artistic response that serves to educate and collectively vent the intense anger and pain this murder has generated.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Puerto Rico: More Than Reggaeton?

(If you would rather read in Spanish, haz click aquí para leer la versión de este blog que se publicó como mi columna de hoy 15 de agosto de 2007 en el periódico nuyorquino El Diario / La Prensa.)

A few days ago, an Associated Press article came out with the subtitle “Puerto Rico es mucho más que reggaetón” (Puerto Rico is much more than reggaeton).

"Puerto Rico is a country in great need of new things and it’s very important that new artists come out and demonstrate they do something that is not reggaeton,” said Kany García, a twenty-five year old Puerto Rican pop singer-songwriter who is currently promoting her debut album with Sony-BMG.


Kany García’s comment reminded me of an article by the renowned Puerto Rican writer Juan Antonio Ramos, published a few months ago in the island newspaper El Nuevo Día.


In the article, titled "Puerto Rico: ¿reguetón?", Ramos responds to comments made by a “blond Mexican singer” who he never mentions by name. The singer in question explained during an interview aired on Puerto Rican TV that her decision to include a reggaeton song in her latest album was an homage to Puerto Rico and Puerto Ricans. “It is very clear that reggaeton belongs to you Puerto Ricans. It was born here. To say reggaeton is to say Puerto Rico,” said the singer (in Spanish, of course).

Juan Antonio Ramos begins his analysis of the singer’s comments by marveling at how much the perception and reception of reggaeton has changed: “Five or seven years ago, such a statement would have been interpreted not only as an unfortunate mistake, but as a monumental insult to the dignity of the Puerto Rican people.”

“Reggaeton’s success has been such that it no longer has any enemies,” writes Ramos, clearly annoyed by what he perceives as a generalized unwillingness to challenge reggaeton publicly anymore. “It would not be exaggerated to say that to condemn reggaeton has become a sacrilege. It’s almost equivalent to being a bad Puerto Rican,” Ramos adds.

Kany García’s and Juan Antonio Ramos’ observations have left me wondering about the whys and hows of reggaeton’s speedy trajectory from the margins and toward the center. Previously persecuted and severely marginalized, reggaeton is currently enthroned in the commercial Boricua music scene as the hen that lays the golden eggs.

It is fascinating that a genre whose primary musical lineage arrived to Puerto Rico not long ago from Jamaica, Panama and the United States (and is still tied to musical innovations in these places), is today seen by many as unquestionably “belonging to Puerto Ricans,” “born in Puerto Rico” and synonymous with the “Puerto Rican nation.” And I’m extremely intrigued that while critics like Kany García and Juan Antonio Ramos perceive reggaeton as a force that has monopolized the Puerto Rican music scene, many reggaetoneros claim that they are still marginalized (socially and musically) in the Island.

So which is it? Is reggaeton still the victim of marginalization in Puerto Rico? Or is reggaeton the “dominant culture” and music of modern day Puerto Rico that is now marginalizing other cultural expressions?

My gut tells me both are true at the same time. But my thoughts are still half-baked and need a lot of work. More soon.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Socaton: post-reggaeton?

(For those who prefer to read in Spanish: Haga click aquí para acceder directamente a la página de El Diario / La Prensa con la versión en español publicada como mi columna de hoy, 8 de agosto de 2007.)

Casa de Leones' “No te veo” has been one of the summer's reggaeton hits. Initially a Jowell and Randy song, the new version features Jowell, Randy, Guelo Star, Maximan and J-King. Last time I checked, it had made it to #1 on the Billboard Latin Rhythm Charts and to #4 in the Latin Charts. The album debuted at #3 in the U.S. National Sales Charts.



I first heard it on MUN2. I liked its playful visual aesthetics and, especially, the ocean view from above the Old San Juan stone wall (where I've witnessed so many sundowns). I was intrigued that the song, produced by DJ Blass, didn't have the usual dembow percussive pattern that has given reggaeton one of its most distinctive qualities. I was even more intrigued that one of the singers at one point raps: “Ma, no te vas/ baila la soca.” (Ma, you're not leaving/ dance that soca.") I wondered: Why the mention of that other Caribbean genre that is soca? Is it just that it rhymes easily with "tu boca y mi boca" or is it an explicit statement about the song attempting to go beyond the usual reggaeton frontiers?

In search of a better informed ear than mine, I asked DJ and ethnomusicologist Wayne Marshall. He responded via his blog: "Although 'No Te Veo' will no doubt be heard as reggaeton by most listeners (and promoted as such by Los Leones), the underlying track differs from most reggaeton productions in some significant ways. For one, it’s much faster: whereas typical reggaeton tracks tend to hover around 90-100 beats per minute, 'No Te Veo' clocks in at around 120 bpm, which makes it sound and feel closer to house, techno, soca, and other club/dance music (especially with the thumping kick drum on every beat). The other significant departure is the role of the snare drum. Rather than tracing out the standard 'dembow' pattern (boom-ch-boom-chick), the snare drum here plays something closer to a 3:2 clave, emphasizing the upbeats in the second half of the measure rather than repeating that classic Caribbean polyrhythm that reggaeton shares with dancehall and many other regional dance styles."

Wayne posted the above and other thoughts regarding the song in his blog and got fascinating feedback from his readers. I'm particularly intrigued by the sonic connections they've been drawing to continental African pop and its circulation and re-circulation in the African diaspora in the Americas.

So the bottom line is that "No te veo" is not the typical reggaeton. But, as Wayne explained to me, neither is it the typical soca either. And it remains to be seen if other artists will end up patterning their music after this song.

Should we be calling this song "reggaeton" considering it breaks with some of the most basic musical conventions that have become associated with the genre? In a previous post titled "(post-)reggaeton," Wayne expressed hesitance to call anything post-reggaeton. I agree. Considering the shifting trends and "omnivorous" (great adjective, Wayne) qualities of reggaeton, it seems best (particularly for music and cultural critics) to avoid imposing definitions on the genre.

If the core artists and audiences say this is reggaeton, then I'm not about to say otherwise. On this, it's better to just listen and dance.

Monday, August 06, 2007

Looking for La Hill

Some weeks ago, I had the fortune of meeting Natasha Alford, a Harvard senior writing her thesis about reggaeton and women artists. She brought to my attention a reggaetonera I hadn’t heard of before—La Hill—who put out an album titled Boricua de Cora in 2004. I’m very intrigued by La Hill but haven’t been successful in getting substantial information on her through the Internet. Neither has Natasha. Does anyone have any leads?

La Hill’s forte might not be a masterful flow or an intricate wordplay... but she’s coming at this from an aggressive social commentary angle (at least in the song below, “Paso a paso”... I heard snippets of the other songs on ITunes and “Paso a paso” seems not to be the rule). All of that makes me wonder even more about her, how she got to record a reggaeton album, and what’s up with her nowadays.



[...]
y al sexo masculino que se guillan de machitos
abusando, oye, del sexo femenino
dándole a mujeres como una pandereta
por eso Lorena Bobbitt te picó la maceta
[...]
y a los cuellos rojos que son unos racistas
obligando a sus hijos que se casen con blanquitas
materialistas con mentes homicidas
si fuera por ellos nos quemarían todas vivas
[...]
pa’ los machistas con un grado de egoísta
que en las producciones no quiere que canten damitas
oye mijo, mira, avanza apúntame en la lista
mejor que tú me sale el style y la rima
no es que yo me guille de tremenda raperita
pero hablo la verdad y eso a ti te pica

—rough translation—

and for the men abusing women
beating ladies like panderetas [tambourines]
that’s why Lorena Bobbitt cut off your dick
[...]
and for those racist rednecks
forcing their sons to marry whitegirls
materialists with homicidal minds
if it was up to them, they’d burn us all alive
[...]
and for the machos with a degree in egoism
who don’t want women to sing in albums
listen, man, put me down on that list
my rhymes and style are much better than yours
I’m not claiming to be the greatest raperita
I’m just speaking the truth and that stings you

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

In defense of KET


If he is convicted of the charges against him, Alain Ket Maridueña could face up to 20 years in prison and huge financial penalties. All for allegedly painting several recent images on subway cars—something Maridueña says he has not done in over a decade.

There is no reason to doubt Maridueña’s word: the evidence against him is circumstantial and highly suspect; meanwhile, his professional and human caliber make him a pillar of urban arts on a global scale.

During the 1980s, the adolescent raised in Miami and New York gained international notoriety as an exponent of the emergent and controversial art form known as graffiti. Two decades later, the 37-year-old editor, hip-hop historian, activist and artist faces more than a dozen counts of felony criminal mischief and possession of graffiti tools.

In the words of another hip-hop historian, Jeff Chang, the case against Maridueña appears to be a classic case of payback: “In 2005, KET had curated Marc Ecko's block party, an event that paid tribute to graffiti pioneers and introduced the company's graf-styled video game. Mayor Bloomberg--who came into office talking tough about graffiti and street art--tried to revoke the event's permit, but after a heavily publicized court battle, the City was forced to reinstate the permit and the event was a huge success.[…] KET's central role as an unapologetic spokesperson, scholar, historian, and activist has made him a target of Bloomberg and NYPD.”

The flimsy evidence and the excessive charges against Maridueña have generated a huge wave of solidarity in the art world. Tonight, August 1st, The Hip-Hop Theater Festival will host a silent art auction and benefit for his legal defense at Brooklyn’s Powerhouse Arena titled THE WALLS BELONG TO US. It will feature sculptures, paintings and silk-screens by over a hundred world-renowned artists such as Martha Cooper, FUTURA 2000, Lee Quiñones, Lady Pink, Jamel Shabazz, Joe Conzo, COCO 144, MARE 139 and KEL 139. The auction close date is August 5th. For more info visit www.thewallsbelongtous.com.


If Maridueña deserves to be criminalized for “promoting” graffiti, then what will be next? Charging the administrators and curators of last year’s graffiti exhibit at Brooklyn Museum? Or is it that only artists get scapegoated?

For more information about Maridueña’s case, visit: www.supportKET.com.

En defensa de KET


Haga click aquí para acceder directamente a la página de El Diario / La Prensa con mi columna de hoy, 1 de agosto de 2007.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Filth and romance; wackness and sappiness

(Haga click aquí para la versión en español.)

I wish there was a word like "porquería" in English. It's the term I used when I first wrote this column/blog post in Spanish. If there was such a word, I would have a handy term that could mean at once filth, trash, crude, low-quality and wack. But there isn't.

In honor of David's heartfelt description of Calle 13 as profoundly "wack," I'm tempted to settle for wack as a synonym for "porquería." It was actually David's visceral dislike of Calle 13 (in general) and the song "Mala suerte con el 13" (in particular) that inspired me to explore the whys of my equally visceral appreciation of the same song. (For my initial post and David comments, click here.)

But tempted as I am to use the word "wack," I'll stick to the original term in Spanish.

"Porquería" is usually a word we use to describe something we don't like. It's, of course, a totally subjective word. What is filthy, low-quality or wack for some, is not so for others.

For example, listening to "Mala suerte con el 13" triggered in me an intense music-inspired joy. For me, that collaboration between Calle 13 and La Mala provides a much-needed relief from the usual romantic/erotic formulas in urban music, particularly in Latino urban music. But for others, the song produces absolutely no joy and is, in a nutshell, a "porquería."

"Calle 13 is wack as hell," says David, a hip-hop and reggaeton connoisseur whose value judgments I treasure. "I never wanna hear another rap song about scat again in my life. That was too much."

The same song was described in the blog La Onda Tropical as a lost opportunity: its "misplaced profanity gives a rancid taste to what could have been an intimate hiphop song with a great guest rapera."

The song is stuffed with profanity. No doubt. But the profanity, in my opinion, takes nothing away from the intimacy and sensibility of the song. I'm sincerely surprised that the writer of La Onda Tropical thinks it does.

La Mala said in an interview with Ernesto Lechner published in the Chicago Tribune: "I loved turning this grotesque song into a parody of the typical flirty duet between a man and a woman."



In a commercial musical scene overrun by romantic clichés, maybe the grotesque inspires La Mala more than sappiness. It certainly does for me. In a music scene where painful gender power dynamics are usually presented in romantic wrapping paper with a pretty bow, it's refreshing to hear that song where the male is not waxing eloquent on why he's irresistible and the female caressing his ego with her perpetual "sí, papi."

"Porquería" are the usual power games between men and women, be it in music or outside of it. "Porquería" is that cheap, hypocritical romantic-ness... the one from the songs and the one we live day-to-day. Calle 13's crudeness is nothing compared to that huge and tragic "porquería." At least for me. La Mala might agree.

Porquerías y cursilerías

Haga click aquí para acceder a mi columna en El Diario / La Prensa, publicada el pasado miércoles 25 de julio (Día de Santiago Apóstol, de la invasión de Estados Unidos a Puerto Rico en 1898, de la instauración del Estado Libre Asociado en 1952 y de los asesinatos del Cerro Maravilla en 1978). La columna se titula "Porquerías y cursilerías."

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

So we can disrespect each other

(For the version in Spanish in today's El Diario / La Prensa, click here.)


So we can disrespect each other

So many things captivated me about last Friday’s concert at Manhattan’s Nokia Theater featuring Calle 13 and Spanish hip-hop artist La Mala Rodríguez.

The music was great and the audience was hyped. Of the many details I could elaborate on, I feel compelled to write just about a tiny part of the show: the only song that Calle 13 and La Mala interpreted together titled “Mala suerte con el 13” (Bad Luck with 13).


It’s the most (simultaneously) tender, romantic and dirty song I ever heard. It actually put into lyrics a vague feeling I had been having during the whole show: that the contradictions and opposing forces onstage were somehow conveying a delicious sense of balance.

La Mala herself is the embodiment of several seemingly opposing forces: skilled rhyme-sayer with a gorgeous singing voice who comes across as hard, sometimes even violent, and at the same time intensely loving. Thin, with usually delicate gestures, dressed in angel-white, she is also (in her own words) “una patá por la boca” (a kick to the mouth). The same woman who asked all of us in the audience to hug the people around us and refused to keep singing until most of us shyly complied.

Calle 13 is also the synthesis of multiple and disparate forces: Residente is grimy, highly politicized, sometimes sweet, hardly ever serious. His counterpart onstage is his adolescent sister PG13: half nymph, half elf, always strong; sometimes fluttering her arms like wings, sometimes joining her brother in stressing the crudest words in his rhymes.


But back to the song at hand, where La Mala and Residente exchange verses that manage to be tender, philosophical and filthy all at once.

The hook says it (almost) all: “Vamos a faltarnos el respeto, usando el alfabeto completo” (Lets disrespect each other, using the whole alphabet.”

Below, a few gems from the song:

La Mala:

Quiero un hombre sin complejo [I want a man without an inferiority complex]
Que tenga buenos reflejos [With good reflexes]
Pa' ver como se hace viejo [To see how he gets old]
Miro el horóscopo pa' ver qué me depara [I check the horoscope, to see what awaits me]
Cuando me pongo perra, tú, nada me para [When I get like a bitch in heat, nothing can stop me]
Llévame pa' la cueva[...] [Take me to the cave]
De los pelos arrastrá [Drag me by the hair]
No me dejes ni hablar [Don’t even let me speak]
Si tengo la oportunidad [If I get the chance]
De agarrarte como quiero la presión [To check your blood pressure]
(¿La presión?) [(¿Blood presure?)]
Se te va a disparar [...] [It’s going to shoot up]
Me sabe mejor lo que no me das [What you don’t give me tastes better]
Que lo que me das, ay papá [Than what you do give me, ay papá]
¿Qué es lo que tú tienes pa’ mi? [What do you have for me?]
Tengo que gritar, yo estoy en libertad [I have to scream, I’m free to do so]
Vamos a ponernos a llorar[...] [Lets start to cry]


Residente:

Oye, flaca [Listen, slim]
Este sudaca quiere tener sexo con caca [This southener wants to have sex with shit]
Kinki, peludo como Chubaca [Kinky, hairy like Chewbacca]
Quiere tener sexo puerco, sucio, como de inodoro [He wants to have sex, dirty like a toilet]
Oríname en el pecho [Piss on my chest]
Te lo juro que yo te enamoro, mi tesoro [I swear I’ll make you fall in love, my treasure]
(Escúpeme en la boca) [(Spit in my mouth)]
Mientras me agarras las tetillas [While you grab my nipples]
Con solo verte las rodillas yo me lubrico [I get lubricated just looking at your knees]
(Ay, que la tienes muy pequeño chico) [(Yours is too small, man)]
Pero eso lo sabes tú na' más y ahora todo Puerto Rico[...] [But only you know that, and now, all of Puerto Rico]
Yo te quiero decir cosas bonitas mamita [I want to tell you pretty things, mamita]
Pero no me sale [But they don’t come out]
Es que yo fui criao por los animales [It’s just that I was raised by animals]
Sin modales [With no manners]
(Mamando teta de orangutanes) [(Sucking orangutans’ tits)]


In an interview with Ernesto Lechner for The Chicago Tribune, La Mala said: “Things can get really boring if you lose your sense of humor. I loved turning this grotesque song into a parody of the typical flirty duet between a man and a woman.” Also in an interview with Lechner, Residente described his initial idea for the song as “a duet between a guy who's weak and inadequate, and a woman who's a sexual psychopath and has all the power in the world.”

Frances Negrón-Muntaner, author of a forthcoming essay on Calle 13 titled “Poesía de porquería” (Poetry of Filth) describes the song as “a mockery of macho stereotypes” that proposes “the body as nourishment, a source of pleasure and knowledge.” I agree. And I’m impressed with the way humor, romance, raw desire and scatology are all present in this song at the same time, balancing each other out in a splendid juggler’s “malamarismo” (La Mala’s latest album is titled Malamarismo).

These judgements are all, of course, highly subjective. One blogger objects to the “misplaced profanity” that “gives a rancid taste to what could have been an intimate hiphop song with a great guest rapera (La Mala Rodriguez)”.

I, on the other hand, welcome the song for pushing (from the realm of rough play) the limits of decorum and social criticism, an opinion shared by Lechner and also by Amazon.com reviewer Joey Guerra.

So if its going to be like La Mala and Residente are proposing, I say we can definitely “disrespect each other,” since, in reality, we’d be doing exactly the opposite.

Para faltarnos el respeto

(Haga click aquí para la versión que aparece en mi columna de hoy 18 de julio de 2007 en El Diario / La Prensa.)


Para faltarnos el respeto

Fueron muchas las cosas que me cautivaron del concierto de Calle 13 y la rapera española La Mala Rodríguez el pasado viernes en el Nokia Theater de Manhattan.


La música estaba buenísima; la audiencia encandilada. De tantos detalles que pudiera mencionar, sólo me detendré en la única pieza que Calle 13 y La Mala interpretaron juntos titulada “Mala suerte con el 13.”

Es la canción más tierna, romántica y sucia que he escuchado en mi vida. De hecho, concretizó en palabras una noción vaga que me había acompañado durante la presentación: de las contradicciones y los extremos presentes en el escenario emanaba un delicioso balance.

En La Mala misma se balanceaban varias fuerzas: rapera y cantante que se proyecta títera, violenta y a la vez amorosa. Delgada, de ademanes usualmente delicados, vestida de blanco-angelito, es también (en sus propias palabras) “una patá por la boca.” La misma que en un aparte de sus canciones nos pidió que abrazáramos a las personas a nuestro alrededor.

En Calle 13 igual habían múltiples fuerzas opuestas que se balanceaban unas a otras: Residente es soez, sumamente politizado, a veces dulce, casi nunca serio. Su contraparte en el escenario es su hermana adolescente, PG13: media ninfa, media duende, siempre bien fuerte; a veces agitando las alas, a veces rematando con groserías lo que su hermano mayor declara.


Pero volvamos a la canción que nos compete, donde La Mala y Residente intercambian versos que son tiernos, filosóficos, y a la vez puercos. El estribillo lo dice todo: “Vamos a faltarnos el respeto, usando el alfabeto completo.”

Y aquí un poquito de los versos:


La Mala:

Quiero un hombre sin complejo
Que tenga buenos reflejos
Pa' ver como se hace viejo
Miro el horóscopo pa' ver qué me depara
Cuando me pongo perra, tú, nada me para
[...] Llévame pa' la cueva
De los pelos arrastrá
No me dejes ni hablar
Si tengo la oportunidad
De agarrarte como quiero la presión
(¿La presión?)
Se te va a disparar [...]
Me sabe mejor lo que no me das
Que lo que me das, ay papá
¿Qué es lo que tú tienes pa’ mi?
Tengo que gritar, yo estoy en libertad
Vamos a ponernos a llorar[...]


Residente:

Oye,flaca
Este sudaca quiere tener sexo con caca
Kinki, peludo como Chubaca.
Quiere tener sexo puerco, sucio, como de inodoro
Oríname en el pecho
Te lo juro que yo te enamoro, mi tesoro
(Escúpeme en la boca)
Mientras me agarras las tetillas
Con solo verte las rodillas yo me lubrico
(Ay, que la tienes muy pequeño chico)
Pero eso lo sabes tú na' más y ahora todo Puerto Rico
[...] Yo te quiero decir cosas bonitas mamita
Pero no me sale
Es que yo fui criao por los animales
Sin modales
(Mamando teta de orangutanes)



Frances Negrón-Muntaner, autora de un ensayo sobre Calle 13 titulado “Poesía de porquería” describe la canción como “una burla de estereotipos machistas” que propone al “cuerpo como nutriente, fuente de placer y conocimiento.” Concuerdo.

Me impresiona que el humor, la burla, el romance y el deseo crudo estén todos ahí presentes, balancéandose en espléndido “malamarismo.”

Así sí podemos “faltarnos el respeto” ya que, en realidad, estaríamos haciendo justo lo opuesto.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Rebel Díaz (tonight w La Mala and Joell Ortiz!)



(Click here to access this same blog in its incarnation as my El Diario / La Prensa column for today, Wednesday July 11, 2007)


Rebel Díaz



De los tres jóvenes en tarima, empieza a rapear el del largo pelo trenzado, RodStarz: “Por la familia que yo quiero/ for my beautiful niece/ Es por eso que yo...”

Le responde la poderosa y melodiosa voz de Lah Tere: “Canto.”

Sigue RodStarz al próximo verso: “For the future of the youth that remind me of me/ Es por eso que yo...”

“Canto,” le responde a coro y con entusiasmo el nutrido público congregado el pasado sábado en 53 Ann St. Bar de Manhattan.

Rebel Díaz es el nombre de la agrupación integrada por la puertorriqueña Lah Tere y dos hermanos chilenos: RodStarz y G1. La actividad fue organizada por The Legacy Circle, un grupo dedicado a promover la educación y el apoderamiento de los jóvenes de descendencia africana (sean latinos, caribeños y/o afroamericanos). Manuela Arciniegas, la joven fundadora de The Legacy Circle, explica porqué invitó a este grupo de hip-hop, entre tantos: “Rebel Díaz tiene una energía sumamente fuerte y representa los intereses de una comunidad afro-descendiente marginalizada y luchadora al mismo tiempo”.

Cierto es lo que dice Arciniegas. La primera vez que vi al grupo fue durante la multitudinaria marcha pro-inmigrante en nuestra ciudad hace año y medio. Desde entonces, los he visto participar en múltiples protestas y actividades comunitarias, al igual que en clubes y fiestas.

Los integrantes de Rebel Díaz son artistas, educadores y activistas. Son también un eslabón que une los ánimos y las rebeldías de los jóvenes de hoy con el activismo, la historia y la música de los jóvenes de ayer. Y son también un puente entre dos comunidades que—aún compartiendo historias, integrantes e intereses comunes—muchas veces se comportan como rivales: los latinos y los afroamericanos.

Esta noche Rebel Díaz se presentará en el club SOBs de Manhattan junto a dos conocidas figuras: la rapera española La Mala Rodríguez y Joell Ortiz, un puertorriqueño brooklyniano que va meteóricamente acumulando logros en el mundo del hip-hop en inglés.

Allí estaré esta noche celebrando la buena música y las necesarias rebeldías de Rebel Díaz.

Friday, July 06, 2007

Rapeando sobre la reforma migratoria

(Haga click en este enlace para acceder directo a mi columna de El Diario/La Prensa del 4 de julio. La ventaja de leer aquí en el blog son los videos que incluyo como ejemplos.)


Rapeando sobre la reforma migratoria



Con gafas oscuras, enorme sombrero y botas de vaquero, el rapero Chingo Bling aparece en la portada de su próximo disco brincando una verja, mientras un policía lo persigue, macana en mano. They Can’t Deport Us All (No nos pueden deportar a todos) es el título del disco que saldrá al mercado en agosto.



En medio de toda la controversia generada por el reciente y fracasado intento de reforma migratoria, he estado pensando en las importantes conversaciones que sobre este tema se han estado dando en el terreno del hip-hop y el reggaetón.

Dentro de estos géneros de música urbana, Chingo Bling es una de las voces que más fuerte y claro han hablado/rapeado sobre el tema. Yo sabía muy poco de este artista de Houston de padres mexicanos la primera vez que vi su video “Taco Shop.” Me dieron gracia sus irónicas referencias a la canción “Candy Shop” del popular rapero afroamericano 50 Cent, pero la estética burlona de quien se hace llamar el Ghetto Vaquero jamás me preparó para lo tierno y politizado que es su video más reciente llamado “Like This and Like That.”

El video comienza con unas personas (incluso un niño) corriendo despavoridas para cruzar la frontera entre México y Estados Unidos. Los espectadores del video vemos a estos personajes enmarcados dentro de la mirilla de un arma de fuego, como si el espectador mismo fuese el francotirador que tiene esas vidas en sus manos.



En una entrevista con Agustín Gurza del periódico Los Angeles Times, el artista explica parte de la intención tras el video: “Mi meta con ese video era comenzar a representar al inmigrante ilegal como un héroe.”

En ese mismo ánimo de humanizar y celebrar a los inmigrantes indocumentados, la canción “Pal Norte” en el nuevo disco de Calle 13 habla desde la perspectiva de un inmigrante que anda “por el desierto con los pies a la parrilla/ por debajo de la tierra como las ardillas.”

Aunque lo que sigue no es un video de Calle 13, es un video-montaje que incluye la música y la letra:



Ojalá este tipo de politizadas intervenciones musicales generen más conocimiento sobre el tema. Y más solidaridad humana.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

To the beat of the eternal boys

Click here for the Spanish version titled "Al son de los chamacos eternos," published in today's El Diario / La Prensa, Wednesday, June 27, 2007.


To the beat of the eternal boys

"What I want is grown man rap." I don't mean to put words in Carlito Rodriguez's mouth (writer, producer and ex-Editor-In-Chief at The Source), but something to that effect is what I heard from his lips last year during a panel discussion at the Schomburg Center with other writers like Cornel West, Imani Perry, Greg Tate, Akiba Solomon and Mark Hill.

I may not be able to cite verbatim all that he said so eloquently, but one phrase got stuck in my head: "grown man." Emphasis on psychology rather than chronology. Synonym of experience, maturity, introspection.

That night, thirty-something Rodriguez's words had a big impact on me. Partly, it was because of their courage and honesty; if you work in an entertainment industry obsessed with youth, to brandish your maturity is to make yourself vulnerable. Partly, his words also impacted me because they addressed some vague questions that had been circling my brain for a while: How to speak about maturity in music without forsaking play, pleasure and shamelessness? How to start talking about all those aspects of the obligatory commercial hip-hop and reggaeton aesthetic that are much more understandable in a teenager than in men pushing (and past) thirty?

Rodriguez and many of his generation (which is also mine) grew up to the beat of hip-hop and reggaeton. But the music—at least its most commercial expression—refuses to grow up with us.

But that's actually not the problem. Music can stay perpetually immature. Music doesn't have to grow up. But people do. And it's distressing to see adults hiding their existential pain behind the buckwild youth mask. It's distressing to see adults get old but not mature.

I derive a lot of inspiration from folks like Rodríguez who, like myself, are committed to maturing and aging gracefully. Or at least trying.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

My first 10 columns in El Diario / La Prensa

It just dawned on me that today was published my tenth weekly El Diario / La Prensa column, titled Reggaetónica (just like this blog but with an accent). Here's the list with links for easy access.

"Nina, la feminista bandolera"

"¿A ella le gusta agresivo?"


"50 Cent y su 'Parque de diversiones'"

"Los sueños incumplidos del reggaetón"

"El futuro del reggaetón"

"Reggaetón en el salón"

"Educación hip-hopera"

"La otra cara del hip-hop"

"Las Nikes macheteras"

"¿Porqué 'Reggaetónica'?"

Nina, the feminist bandolera

(Click here for the Spanish version titled "Nina, la feminista bandolera" published in today's El Diario/La Prensa, Wednesday, June 20.)


Nina, the feminist bandolera

In last week’s column, I was wondering about the pleasures many women are deriving from reggaeton’s sexual aggressiveness.

Nina La Bandolera, one of my favorite reggaetonic bloggers, gives us a few clues in “The Death of Reggaeton”: “We LOVE when a man wants us and doesnt croon at us but comes at us full-force, cockdiesel and aggressive as all hell. Maybe not in the office or at school, but thats what music is for. We can safely experience that.”

Obviously, Nina likes the agresivo approach. But hold up! She’s not into agressiveness 24-7. She’s not into algarete agressiveness. What’s appropriate on the dance-floor, is not necessarily appropriate at school or at work.

According to Nina, music and dance are spaces for pleasure and play where masculine aggressiveness is an aphrodisiac, where women celebrate that aggressiveness as part of sexual fantasy. In that case, aggressiveness is a consensual performance, an improvised theater piece that can only take place in a “safe space” and in a context of mutual respect.

“Of course we dont want to be seen as mere objects,” writes Nina. One thing is to celebrate yourself as a “sexual creature,” and another is to be reduced to a mere sexual object.

Our society frequently has demanded that women behave “decently” and “with decorum” as pre-conditions for being respected. Pues no, argues Nina. Respect should not be dependent on how lascivious on the dance-floor or promiscuous in bed a woman is.

Nina is in illustrious company in making those arguments; author Joan Morgan who popularized the term “hip-hop feminism” is the most prominent example. She proposed a “feminism brave enough to fuck with the grays,” brave enough to explore internal contradictions, brave enough to acknowledge how women in general (and each of us as individuals) are often complicit with patriarchy partly because we are unwilling to give up its benefits.

And, speaking about feminism, Nina can certainly be considered part of what Jillian M. Báez describes as “reggaeton feminism” in an article titled “‘En mi imperio’: Competing Discourses of Agency in Ivy Queen’s Reggaeton” published last year in the Center for Puerto Rican Studies Journal.

I hope Nina will forgive me if, like many other women, she doesn’t like being called a feminist. I’m using the label, among other reasons, because I find it to be useful shorthand. But in the end, the label has much less importance than the ideas. And at the level of ideas, I see in Nina a desire to grapple with gender dynamics in all their complexity, a desire not to blame but to transform. I see in her a playful, much-needed reggaetonic feminism.

Friday, June 15, 2007

Does she like it "agresivo"?

(Click here for the Spanish version titled "¿A ella le gusta agresivo?" published in El Diario/La Prensa last Wednesday, June 13.)


Does she like it "agresivo"?

Last Saturday, June 9, I was at the Bling Blineo concert sponsored by radio station La Kalle. There, before a not-quite-full house, performed Jowell & Randy, Tito El Bambino, Héctor El Father, El Torito, Victor Manuelle, Wisín y Yandel, Don Omar, and others.

Sitting with a friend in the nosebleed seats but thanks to the giant screen focused on the artists on stage, I had a great time enjoying the music, criticizing all of the many things that just begged to be criticized, and observing the reactions of the audience around us.

One little detail caught both of our attentions. As usual, the reggaeton headliners had dancers with them almost at every moment. What was not usual was the humble role played by the female dancers compared to the starring role played by the male dancers. In many occasions, the women onstage danced along the margins of the main action while the male dancers, often shirtless, would gather tightly around the singers/rappers, suggestively humping the air to the sounds of the fiery howls coming from the women in the audience.

That strong display of macho beauty and erotic energy from the stage, accompanied by so many songs aimed to make the females hot, left me thinking, among other things, in the pleasures that women are deriving from this musical genre. (I'll leave the male social/sexual bonding aspects of this all for another time.)

Reggaeton is often criticized for its sexism and/or sexual agressiveness. What is fascinating is that it is precisely its agressiveness that atracts many women. "A ella le gusta agresivo/Que la calienten con dembow… Dale más látigo" (She likes it agressive/She likes to be made hot to the sounds of dembow... Give her more of that whip), as Jowell & Randy sang that night.

Now I can't stop thinking about all that attracts women to these sado-masochistic images and fantasies. And, as I've asked myself plenty of times before, I wonder if (and how) sexual explicitness can be untangled from sexism; I wonder if (and how) we can participate in power games on the dancefloor or in bed, but, once the game is over, to be able to leave those dynamics behind.

I think it's possible. I'm just not quite sure how.

(For Nina la Bandolera's insightful blog post that touches on similar topics. Click here.)





Thursday, June 14, 2007

50 Cent and His “Amusement Park”

Click here for the Spanish original published in El Diario/La Prensa on June 6, 2007.



50 Cent and His “Amusement Park”

A few weeks ago, Fifty Cent’s video “Amusement Park” premiered. (No sense in providing a description of the video like I did in the Spanish print version, since I can post the video below.)



If you’re in no mood to watch the whole video, here’s the summary: Gorgeous video models writhe and shake as Fifty promises sweet pleasures to you, the listener (if you’re a woman), and all your (girl)friends.

The day the video premiered on BET’s 106 & Park, Fifty was the show’s special guest. Host Rocsi asked if he worried about being accused of disrespecting women, considering the recent and feverish national debates regarding sexism and hip-hop.

Fifty looked at Rocsi, innocence and surprise engraved on his face, and explained that the video was not an insult to women. On the contrary!, he said. It was a compliment: women are just more beautiful than men.

Ugh! Why do so many only see the world through the narrow tunnel of their own desires (and social indoctrination)? Fifty, in that regard, is certainly no exception.

The irony is that, in the video, Fifty’s naked chest is pre-packaged as eye candy just as much as the models are. Fifty is neither more nor less beautiful than them. The only difference is that they are many, interchangeable, individually expendable; while Fifty, though just as luscious, is the single, virile epicenter: irreplaceable.

Saturday, June 09, 2007

50 Cent y su "Parque de diversiones"

Here is a slightly longer version than the one that appeared in El Diario last Wednesday, 6-6-07. I'll post the English translation soon.


50 Cent y su "Parque de diversiones"
Raquel Z. Rivera



Hace un par de semanas se estrenó el video musical titulado "Amusement Park" (Parque de diversiones) de uno de los más populares chicos malos del hip-hop comercial: Fifty Cent. A continuación un resumen de los primeros segundos del video:

Luces de neón parpadean al son de una melodía juguetona y sexy, con un leve eco de música de circo. Retumba la percusión digital y aparece una rápida sucesión de hembrunos caramelitos visuales semi-desnudos.

Una voluminosa chica sonríe recostada en el piso con su pelo arrubiado y peinado estilo años veinte; otra baila muy seductora con la espalda pegada a un espejo; otra de preciosos ojos gatunos está de rodillas en la arena y empinando verticalmente su escultural nalgaje; otra monta un caballito de carrusel vestida en traje de baño; otra maneja un "carrito loco" con camisa de brillo dorado y piernas abiertas.

La cámara por fin se detiene sobre una joven de piernas esbeltas coronadas por un minúsculo pantaloncito rojo. Su torso gira ágilmente sobre el eje de sus caderas, soltando destellos de piel caoba y larga cabellera serpentina.

Ya una vez comienza el clásico patrón percusivo del hip-hop, aparece por un segundo el protagonista, el único varón del video: piel perfecta de reluciente color ébano y media sonrisa de nene malo. Con sensual convicción declara su nombre: "Fifty." Y la muchacha del pantalón rojo cae de rodillas, postrada en rendición frente al deseo que inspira la mera mención del apelativo del artista.

El resto del video sigue la misma línea: las modelos se contonean mientras Fifty promete dulces placeres, para ti (si eres mujer) y todas tus amigas.

El día que se estrenó el video, Fifty era el invitado especial del popular programa 106 & Park del canal televisivo BET. Rocsi (Raquel Díaz), una de las conductoras del programa, le preguntó si no le preocupaba que lo acusaran de faltarle el respeto a las mujeres, luego del debate nacional que se ha formado sobre el sexismo en la música hip-hop.

Fifty la miró sorprendido, con cara de inocente, y explicó que el video no era un insulto sino un cumplido para las mujeres: las féminas sencillamente son más bellas que los hombres; a todo el mundo (incluso a las mujeres heterosexuales) les gusta mirar a mujeres bellas; es por eso que en nuestra sociedad se vende de todo a través de las caras y cuerpos de las mujeres. Todo lo anterior no tiene nada de malo, según Fifty.

¡Qué fastidio!, pensé yo. Lo que es ver todo a través del estrecho túnel del deseo propio y la indoctrinación social. Lo peor es que, igual que Fifty, tantos otros y otras piensan lo mismo. Mis propios estudiantes universitarios me han dejado boquiabierta al manifestar ideas parecidas.

Lo irónico es que el musculoso torso desnudo de Fifty es tan caramelo visual como los cuerpos femeninos del video. Fifty no es ni más ni menos hermoso que las modelos. La diferencia es que ellas son muchas, intercambiables, sustituibles. Él, aunque igual de suculento, es el único macho epicentro.

Los sueños incumplidos del reggaetón

Click here for my El Diario/La Prensa column published 5-30-07 titled "Los sueños incumplidos del reggaetón" (Reggaetón's unrealized dreams).

Friday, May 25, 2007

The future of reggaeton

(For the version in Spanish published in Wednesday's El Diario/La Prensa, click here.)

Last Sunday, the Miami Herald published an article titled "Reggaeton's unrealized dream."

Since Daddy Yankee had his hit "Gasolina," quite a few articles have come out in the most important newspapers in the nation (Los Angeles Times, New York Times, etc.) debating about the present and the future of this genre. Some have said reggaeton is dying. Others have said that reggaeton is dead. Still others have assured us that it's only hibernating.

Jordan Levin, author of the Miami Herald article, argues that reggaeton has reached a moderate and stable level of popularity—a plateau—but that its fortunes can change at any moment.

Levin says that the history of hip-hop (rap, in this case) can help us understand reggaeton's trajectory better: hip-hop spent its first decade (1970s) as an underground phenomenon, then had approximately a decade of successes, failures and folks speculating about its future (1980s), and it wasn't until the 1990s that it secured its spot as one of the darlings of global pop music. That's why, Levin says, considering the small amount of time reggaeton has had as commercial music, it's not strange at all that it's future seems so murky.

What attracts me the most about Levin's arguments is the idea that today's commercial hip-hop music can serve as a mirror for reggaeton's future.

"Will gentrification spoil the birthplace of hip-hop?", asks a New York Times headline from last Monday in an article dedicated to the fate of the building (and the neighborhood) where DJ Kool Herc threw the party that many credit as marking hip-hop's beginning.

Taking that headline as a mirror for the future of reggaeton we can safely predict that a few corporations and a tiny number of artists will keep making juicy profit$ from a music packaged and marketed as ghetto or "barrio" raw material. Meanwhile, the barrio (whether we're talking Santurce, Piñones, East Harlem, Bushwick, or the South Bronx) will be plagued by the usual problems: gentrification, displacement, police brutality, high dropout rates...

That would be reggaeton's true "unrealized dream." And we would all be guilty of its unfulfilled promises.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Reggaetón en el salón

Click here to access my column in today's El Diario/La Prensa, titled "Reggaetón en el salón" (Reggaeton in the Classroom). For an earlier, longer version in English, click here.

Friday, May 04, 2007

"Bemba Colorá" and the "Black Girl Painted White"

In response to my previous post "From White to Mulata: The Darkening Powers of Reggaeton,” David mentioned the LG and Cyn collaboration “Bemba Colorá,” produced by Danny Fornaris. (Thanks, David, for pointing me to it.)



LG:
Tú eres una negra rubia, pintá de blanca (You are a blond black girl, painted white)
Con la bemba colorá, black from the back (With thick red lips, black from the back)
Tú eres una negra rubia, pintá de blanca (You are a blond black girl, painted white)
La reina de la rumba y el meneo te encanta (The queen of the rumba and you love to move)




Cyn:
Epa, tengo la bemba colora (Hey, my thick lips are red)
Soy la negra jabá (I’m the high-yellow black girl)

LG:
Revuelca las caderas pa’ sentirte, negrita (Move your hips so I can feel you, black girl)
Revuelca las caderas pa’ sentirte, blanquita (Move your hips so I can feel you, white girl)
Revuelca las caderas pa’ sentirte, rubiona (Move your hips so I can feel you, blondie)
Revuelca las caderas pa’ sentirte, jabá [...](Move your hips so I can feel you, high-yellow black girl) [...]
Narizona, pero que linda es (Big-nosed but pretty)
Eres bembona, pero que rica es (Tick-lipped but pretty)
Eres culona y tu booty clap excita (Big-assed and your booty clap excites)
A hombres como yo [...] (Men like me)



I’m taking corrections to the lyrics. Am I mishearing? Part of me definitely wants to be.

Not to let LG off the hook, but a post on the racial/sexual implications of his lyrics need a lot more time and careful thought than I can put in right now.

But, frankly, what I most hope to be mishearing are Cyn's lines. “My thick lips are red/ I'm the high-yellow black girl.” It sounds to me like nails on chalkboard coming from lips and skin that—like mine—enjoy the privileges of whiteness in a racist society.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

From White to Mulata: The Darkening Powers of Reggaetón



Jowell & Randy have a song out called "Es Mala." Tito, a DJ and a student at Wesleyan University, has the following sharp, sharp observations to make:

Hey Raquel,

Have u heard the song "Mala Es" by Jowell & Randy off of Don Omar's "El Pentagono" ? It's definitely worthy of discussion... Here a some of the lyrics:

"niña niña niña blancaa..
te ponen reggaeton y cambia a mulata

niña niña niña niña blancaa..
te ponen reggaeton y cambia a mulata

tu eres bien mala , bien mala
se te nota en la cara
tu eres bien mala
y cmo el diablo mala ati se te nota en la cara

yo soy el que te motivo la falda
mirandote bien con esa falda blanca
tu estas dura sin duda y que nalga
mai tu me mata
esta noche yo te cambio de blanca a mulata ma"

Seems as if all the desired Women in Reggaeton are "mulattas" or in this case all Women are simply transformed into mulattas as a result of the dembow. Seems to me that Reggaeotn's attitude towards Women is increasingly not only sexualized, but also racialzed.

[...]

I sent the song to you via e-mail. I think that Reggaeton follows the narrative of the "mulatta" lust found in other genres, but I find that Reggaeton in comparison to other genres is becoming more & more explicitally sexually. Whereas before artists might have used a code word or some type of other word to maybe dumb-down their true sexualized & demeaning lyrics, artists are now becoming more & more direct, vulgar, & explicit. Even something as simple as going from saying "amor" to "sexo" makes the angle more sexualized for Reggaeton. Not to mention that "perreo" is a term derived from animals & is directly related to sex, so I think Reggaeton comprises a sexual culture to it, that is to say, that to listen & like reggaeton is somewhat naughty or sexual for a female & empowering & dominating for males. I think the "mulatta" is the idealized woman in reggaeton & this is evident from the music videos to artists simply sayin "ay mulatta" etc. in their songs. The issue for me is that when you take a musical genre that in my opinion is viewed as & is very sexualized & attach notions of race to it you you create a racialized & sexualized "subject" in those you are portraying & seeing as Women have very little agency in the Reggaeton world, this representation is pretty much upheld in PR society both on the island & in the states.

[...]

I think reggaeton has been raunchy & explicity all along, but I think the lyrics have reverted back to the "Reggeaton Sex" days of Underground. I think that "raunchiness" & degradation have become more mainstream & therefore are seen as less scandalous & more acceptable to society, so I think it has questioned our value as a community. The fact that Reggaeton outright refers to sexual references & acts & is accepted as mainstream Puerto Rican culture posing an interesting cultural issue for me. Now you can go to Puerto Rico and see young girls singing "dame con el palo, " & they're parents paying no mind to it, which I think is crazy. In the beginning of Reggaeton I found the lyrics to be much more raunchy, violent, & drug-related. Then maistream Reggaeton came along, switched the "sexo" to "amor" & the "nenas" to "gatas." I think these sudle changes in language allowed Reggaeton to be more successful in the mainstream, but now a lot of artists are moving back to the original lyrics because they already have a stable fan base. I mean, look at someone like Tony Dize, if you translated osme of his songs into english, they could put even 50 Cent to shame with the blatant sexual references & degradation of women.

-Tito


Thank you so much, Tito, for sharing your thoughts.

I'm wondering: What do other folks think?

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

My column in today's El Diario / La Prensa: "La otra cara del hip-hop"

Click here for my column in today's El Diario / La Prensa titled "La otra cara del hip-hop."

Monday, April 30, 2007

Airing tonight: my interview on María Hinojosa's show "La Plaza"


A few weeks ago, I had the honor of being interviewed by award-winning journalist María Hinojosa. The focus of our dialogue was my writings on hip-hop and reggaeton.

The show is called "La Plaza: Conversaciones con María Hinojosa" and will air tonight at 9pm on PBS' Spanish-language V-me. (Cable: Time Warner NY 812; Cablevision 199; Comcast in NJ 242)(Digital: 13-3)(For channel information outside NY/NJ, click here.)

For more information about the show, click here.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

Reggaeton in Education and Activism?


If you google "hip-hop education," you get approximately 14,600 items. The first one, very appropriately, is the H2Ed website, an organization whose mission is "to serve educators and those committed to reaching youth through Hip-Hop culture [...] under the premise that Hip-Hop, the most influential cultural force today, has the power to educate, inform and empower today's youth."

If you google "hip-hop activism," you get approximately 44,700 items. Says Jeff Chang: "'Hip-hop activism' is a term [...] meant to show that hip-hop culture could both reflect a social critique and become a unifying force to enact change. The idea of hip-hop activism has since been embraced by young organizers, thinkers, cultural workers and activists to describe their generation's emerging work for social justice. It describes a broad range of social change practices, including youth organizing, cultural work, arts education, popular education, intercultural exchanges, youth development, and celebrity projects and events."

But type in "reggaeton activism" in google and you get... nothing.

Type in "reggaeton education" and you get 48 items—none of them referring to integrating reggaeton into classrooms and/or promoting education through reggaeton.

Considering the HUGE activist and educator networks related to hip-hop, I'm trying to connect with folks who are doing parallel work in terms of reggaeton.

Any leads?

Friday, April 20, 2007

Again, the Machetero Nikes

Dear Danny,

You’re right. In my first blog about the Machetero Air Force Ones, I didn’t comment on my reaction to the sneakers beyond saying it was painful to see Filiberto’s face on them. I didn’t elaborate because I didn’t want to rant.

But then you wrote that email clearly stating your position and wanting to know mine. You asked: “Why was it so painful to look at those sneakers?” I’ll answer by allowing myself to go into the rant I initially thought I should avoid. So here goes. Take it with a grain of salt: Like everyone else, I’m a walking tangle of contradictions.



When I first saw Filiberto on those sneakers, I had to pause for a few seconds. My skin prickled and I felt a mix of anxiety and pain at the mouth of my stomach.

Looking at the sneakers: I was faced with the image of that awe-inspiring man known as Filiberto, with all his flaws and his merits, who died a tragic death in the midst of tragic circumstances. He was a man I only saw from a distance, most often on TV and newspapers. I saw him in person only once, during his 1989 trial at the Old San Juan Federal Court. He irradiated dignity, composure and eloquence as he presented his own legal defense (he refused a layer). Later that same night, I saw his shadow flashing a light from his prison cell window—a greeting to the crowd of his supporters gathered on the street below. Filiberto was a myth of our times, a man whose death I cried over not knowing exactly why. It was not precisely that I was a Filiberto devotee, though I certainly admired his strength and his standing by his principles. When he died, I felt as if my uncle or a close friend of my family had passed.

Still looking at the sneakers: I was shocked at seeing Filiberto’s face emblazoned on those ridiculously expensive sneakers made by folks who get paid dirt. Those Nikes, among many other consumer items, represent "cool" in our society. Those sneakers are even tied into people's identities and sense of worth. Nikes are one of the many items for sale that inspire folks to trample others on the way to the store shelves, one of those items that people are willing to stand in line overnight for. Frankly, I despise those sneakers and what they represent.

I intend no disrespect to fashion buffs and sneaker connoisseurs. This is certainly not a judgment of Nike fans. The artist himself says he chose the Air Force Ones to grapple with his own attraction to the shoe. But it just so happens that I do not find sneakers appealing at all. It also just so happens that I’m fashion illiterate.

My visceral reaction to the Machetero Air Force Ones is partly related to politics, partly related to personal history and partly just a matter of taste.

Once upon a time, I was a teenager in Puerto Rico. Like most other teenagers around me, I was obsessed with designer labels and being cool. I was ashamed of my struggling single mom and what she couldn't get for me.

I never got into sneakers. I don't get "sneaker culture." But I understand a reasonable facsimile in the designer labels (Esprit, Jordache, Benetton) I lusted after in my teens.

My reaction to the Machetero AF1s has much to do with the anger I feel over all the time and energy I spent on a useless attempt to make myself happy by buying items that I thought would make me cool. Now I'm a grown woman who is in a different place but remembers wasting so much effort on looking for happiness where happiness is impossible to find. And, sometimes, I feel like screaming... PLEASE LETS JUST STOP WASTING OUR TIME BUYING ALL THIS USELESS SHIT.

At the most basic level, the pain I felt over Luciano’s Nikes has to do with my shock over seeing Filiberto's face on what I consider to be one of the ultimate examples of overpriced, overrated, ugly merchandise.

But, then again, my sense of style matters little in the larger picture. The fact is many people in the know revere Nikes, not only for their beauty, but also for practical reasons. AF1s fans say they are amazingly comfortable. And, after all, most of us wear something on our feet most of the time. So, since we do have to buy footwear, and since many will buy AF1s as their footwear of choice, then why not wear AF1s that have symbols of social-consciousness or national pride, like the Filiberto Uptowns?

I’m not saying yes or no, wrong or right. I’m just venting on my initial reaction to them.

The implications of the Machetero AF1s go way beyond the specific evils of the Nike empire or the peculiarities of Filiberto Ojeda Rios as a man and as a symbol of Puerto Rican nationalism. For me, these Nikes represent the crossroads where our consumerist obsessions, politics and fashion meet.

Fashion and politics. Social justice and consumption. We all walk (and stumble over) the line.

As Bryan Vargas wrote in a blog comment, Miguel Luciano has long been exploring these issues in his work. For example, take the image below titled Exterminio de Nuestros Indios (Extermination of Our Indians), acrylic on paper, 2005.



Though I have been a fan of Luciano’s work for a while, it was his Pure Plantainum project that blew my mind since it connected so closely with the issues that I write about in terms of youth culture and popular music.



But neither plantains nor bling can evoke for me the violent gut reaction that Filiberto’s face on the AF1s does. Except, that is, for this photo from the Pure Plantainum series:



Once the plátano bling is on the boy, Pure Plantainum stops stimulating my brain; it just stops my heart. There, for me, is the human face of the tragedy. Just like Filiberto’s face on the Machetero AF1s.

I’m grateful to Miguel Luciano for jabbing his finger into our open wounds—like a good artist should.

And I’m grateful to you, Danny, and to all the other folks who have emailed me or posted comments on this blog for making me question and fine-tune my ideas and strategies for action.

un abrazo,
RZ

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Reggaetónica: my weekly column in El Diario / La Prensa

This Reggaetonica blog will now have a Spanish-language print counterpart in my Wednesday column "Reggaetónica" in El Diario / La Prensa. My first column was published today and is titled "¿Porqué 'Reggatónica'?"

Friday, April 13, 2007

Meditations on sneakers and bling by Miguel Luciano



These Filiberto Ojeda Uptowns / Machetero Air Force Ones by New York visual artist Miguel Luciano come right after his Pure Plantainum series. Both projects have captured my interest because they touch on two of the top consumer items related to the hip-hop and reggaeton industrial machine: sneakers and bling.

The Filiberto Ojeda Uptowns / Machetero Air Force Ones are part of a show that opens at Bard College this coming Sunday, April 15. Also on Sunday, 2:30—4:30 pm, Miguel Luciano and other renowned New York Rican artists will talk about their work at The Newark Museum.





For me, it hurts to look at Filiberto—icon of armed struggle for Puerto Rican independence assasinated in 2005 by the F.B.I.—emblazoned all over these sneakers. I find this piece to be an insightful and deeply disturbing commentary on our consumption-obsessed lives, particularly painful in the context of Puerto Rico’s colonial relationship to the United States.

Below, is Luciano's statement on the piece:

The Filiberto Ojeda Uptowns / Machetero Air Force Ones are a customized pair of Nike sneakers that pay tribute to the assassinated leader of the Macheteros, a clandestine group of Puerto Rican nationalists who've campaigned for independence in Puerto Rico since the 1970's. Filiberto Ojeda was brutally assassinated by the F.B.I. on September 23, 2005 and has since been revered by many as the "Puerto Rican Che Guevara". A pair of Nike sneakers become an unlikely vehicle of veneration for the fallen leader that both complicate and question how nationalism and resistance are embodied within today's colonial consumerist society. Nevertheless, they engage alternative strategies towards reconstructing symbols of resistance from the objects of material desire, while questioning the commodification of Revolution. The Machetero Air Force Ones transform Nike's Swoosh logo into a ready-made Machete symbol, as the mantra of Nike's "goddess of victory" gives way to "hasta la victoria siempre".

"just do it".

Friday, April 06, 2007

Mini-chronicle of La Sista's Show at SOBs

The woman drips charisma. And skill. And charm. Unlike her bouncing-off-the-walls energetic label mates Tres Coronas who performed right before she did, La Sista—though also full of energy—was effortlessly powerful, grounded and contained.

Her set was well chosen. She opened with the laid-back and sandungueosa “Anacaona” (the single with the video set in her hometown of Loíza). Then she went into her hilarious “Acabones de la Letra,” where the rookie irreverently makes fun of simple-minded reggaeton lyricists. Then came the (unfortunately and uncharacteristically out-of-tune) “Fruity Loops,” followed by the reggaeton/bomba fusion “Calabó y Bamboo” with its contagious hook: “No u'a coge' más un mapo/ Ya yo encampané la escoba/ Mejor búscate a otra/Que te lave bien la ropa.” (“I'm not gonna grab a mop any more/I already packed away the broom/You'd better find another woman/To wash your clothes.”) (Click here to listen to the song.) Then she went into “Rulé Candela,” a hot reggaeton track based on a traditional bomba song. (The woman can SING!) “Machúcalo”—her bachataish ode to cheating men—came next, followed by an homage to her spiritual mother “Yemayá.” Last was my favorite, “This Is My Game,” heavy on the boasting, solid on the hip hop beats.

And a random observation: Considering the weird lack of sexiness and professionalism displayed by the booty-shaking “Machete girls” that accompanied Tres Coronas for all of one song, I was struck by the playful and refreshing sensuality of La Sista’s sidekick Nandi. Throughout La Sista’s set, Nandi was her skillfull right hand man in delivering rhymes and singing. La Sista, undoubtedly the boss, at one point started singing acapella commands to Nandi to move his “batea” as she watched appreciatingly and many in the audience sighed and overheated. What got my attention was that Nandi the sexpot, was also Nandi the fierce lyricsman and singer, and he was also Nandi the indispensable second-in-command—unlike the anonymous and utterly replaceable Machete girls. (No grand conclusions from any of this yet. Well, maybe just one preliminary conclusion: Regardless of how much clothes you’re wearing, carrying yourself in a dignified manner IS key to sexy. It also greatly helps if the folks you’re working with treat you in a dignified manner.)

As I’m looking forward to her next NY live show, La Sista I’m sure will keep the "topo yiyos sudando frío."

(La Sista and a fan. Photo by Marcos Miranda.)