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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.