Latinos vs. Blacks, Fruit vs. Oranges

(Click aquí para la versión en español en El Diario / La Prensa de hoy.)


Latinos are to blacks, as fruit are to oranges. Let me explain.

The deceptively simple but compelling analogy is the product of the agile intellect of novelist Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez, named by Time magazine as one of the “25 most influential Hispanics in America.”

(Above: Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez)

A week ago, the author wrote to EURweb.com regarding her frustration with the harsh criticism showered upon film producer Debra Martin Chase for working on a project with Valdes-Rodriguez.

(Above: Deborah Martin Chase)

A bit of background: EURweb.com is a website dedicated to “black entertainment”. Martin Chase is an award-winning African American producer who has worked on popular movies such as The Princess Diaries and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. The collaboration between Chase and Valdes-Rodriguez is focused on the film adaptation of Valdes-Rodriguez’s best-selling novel The Dirty Girls Social Club.

Valdes-Rodriguez was dismayed at all the criticism directed toward Chase from African Americans who “seem to think she ought to stick to telling only those stories they believe are ‘theirs’." The novelist explains why she is so disturbed by the arguments being made against Chase: “The hostility against Latinos among some blacks who assume Latinos have nothing in common with them is startling, but not altogether surprising, given the way the U.S. media neglects to mention our shared African roots, with nonsensical headlines like ‘Hispanics Outnumber Blacks,’ which is as absurd as ‘Fruit Outnumbers Oranges’.”

I love the ingenious and succinct way in which Valdes-Rodriguez reminds readers that most African descendants in the Americas do not live in the United States and that a huge number of Latinos are black or have African ancestry. The strict separation that many imagine exists between both groups is pure myth, lack of information and even self-denial. (Emphasis on self-denial. A lot of African American misinformation about Latinos stems from Latinos ourselves who refuse to engage honestly with our blackness.)

I’m so glad we have a high-profile writer like Valdes-Rodriguez shedding some light on the subject and giving more of a mainstream voice to what for years have been saying other writers, musicians, educators and activists. Props on the clarity and the wit. And thanks to Black Artemis for forwarding the link.

From the Roots Up: Thoughts on Boricua Music and Reggaeton

(Clickea aquí para la versión en español en El Diario / La Prensa.)


Reggaeton is a mix of rap, reggae and parranda, among other things. Something to that effect said one of the characters in the J-Lo co-produced movie Feel the Noise (starring Omarion) that opened last week.

I sat there, stunned: “Parranda? Huh? What the hell do they mean?”

“Parranda” is not a musical genre. People in Puerto Rico sometimes talk about “parranda music” to refer to the aguinaldos and plenas that folks associate with Boricua-style Christmas. But reggaeton draws next to nothing from aguinaldos and plenas: just a little hook here and there.

The truth is, thanks to Tego, Abrante and La Sista, reggaeton draws a lot more from bomba than from those other genres of Boricua roots music like plena and aguinaldo. In fact, reggaeton has more bachata, merengue, salsa and cumbia, than bomba, plena or aguinaldo.

So why does the movie identify “parranda” as one of the main musical sources of reggaeton?

I think it’s a bit of misinformation mixed with another bit of good intentions.

It’s very common that Boricuas stuff our proud mouths talking about “real” Puerto Rican music like bomba, plena and música jíbara (seises, aguinaldos, etc.) but we have no idea what those genres actually sound like, or even what they’re called. We often talk about “bombayplena,” like its all one genre (which makes as much sense as always talking about “salsaybachata” like they’re always the same thing).

This lack of knowledge about our roots music is not specific to Boricuas. Dominicans do the same. Plenty of other folks do the same.

But we don’t have to.

I propose we educate ourselves a bit. If we’re going to be waving the flag of national pride and (in the case of Puerto Ricans) arguing that reggaeton is a Boricua genre... the least we can do is treat Boricua roots music with enthusiasm and respect NOT just pay it lip service.

Just last Monday, I was at the press event for the concert and workshop series led by world-renowned Puerto Rican musician, composer and arranger William Cepeda.


The project, titled Puerto Rican Music Roots & Beyond, is dedicated to celebrating Puerto Rican roots music and its contemporary re-interpretations. The first concert focuses on jíbaro music and will take place at the Hostos Center for the Arts and Culture in The Bronx on October 25, 2007. For more information visit www.puertoricanmusic.org.

If anyone wants to get a taste before October 25th, I suggest you check out Tato Torres & Yerbabuena, one of the best-known and delicious-to-dance-to Boricua roots music bands in New York—made up of plenty of talented, funky, beautiful young folks, to boot.


Tato will be one of the singers of Cepeda’s Afro-Rican Jazz band that will headline the Hostos concert on October 25th, along with guests from Puerto Rico Grupo Mapeyé and Victoria Sanabria. I’m hoping we all give this musical project the support it deserves.

Oh, and, if anyone has access to the writers and producers of Feel the Noise, please tell them to check it out too.

Hip-hop vs. Reggaeton: Feel the Noise

(For Spanish: Haga click aquí para acceder a la versión en español de este post en mi columna de hoy de El Diario / La Prensa)

Hip-hop is not reggaetón. And the other way around.


That seems to be one of the main points of the J-Lo co-produced movie Feel the Noise that opened last Friday, starring Omarion.

The story: a Harlem rapper gets in trouble with a local thug and his mom sends him to live in Puerto Rico with the father he never met before; there he falls in love with a cute dancer and with reggaeton.

The critics have not been enthused with the film, but moviegoers seem to have reacted a bit better, judging by the fact that it made it to #8 in the list of box office hits this weekend.

According to the New York Times, the plot is weak (I agree), but one of its pluses is that it promotes “minority kinship.” The New York Daily News says something similar: “[...]it rejects the lazy standard of onscreen enmity between black and Latin characters, instead promoting a sharing of cultures and styles. While this could be a cynical attempt to draw two segments of the audience, everyone involved genuinely seems to believe in the movie's message. Of course, none of that would matter without the music, which is packed in from end to end. Some viewers will go for Omarion; others for Voltio. Either way, they'll wind up staying for both.”

So how does this theme of “minority kinship” get manifested in the story?

Rob, the protagonist, was raised in Harlem by his African American mother, completely disconnected from his Puerto Rican father, from Spanish and from Puerto Rico. Javi, his stepbrother, is the child of Puerto Ricans, raised in Puerto Rico and has never visited New York. While Rob loves hip-hop, Javi feels the same for reggaeton (which Javi describes as a mix of rap, reggae and “parranda”. huh? parranda?)

The song that Rob and Javi do together is the symbol of the kinship between hip-hop and reggaeton, and between African Americans and Puerto Ricans.

Looking beyond the story and into the actors chosen, casting Omarion as the “half-Boricua” Rob and Malik Yoba as the bichote in Javi’s neighborhood reinforces the “minority kinship” idea, making the lovely (and necessary) point that African Americans and Puerto Ricans are often much closer (in terms of looks, in this case) than we admit.

On a few occasions, the characters explain that reggaeton is partially derived from hip-hop, but stress that they are different music genres.

The above is exactly the same thing that Latino hip-hop artists who don’t do reggaeton have been saying for years.

But rather than carving out a space for Latino hip-hop artists, this movie just perpetuates the notion that hip-hop is not a Latino space.

I appreciate that the movie highlights the kinship between African Americans and Puerto Ricans. Excellent point. But I’m not feeling the invisibility of the over three-decade history of Puerto Ricans and other Latinos doing hip-hop and not just reggaeton.

Los 6 de Jena

Haga click aquí para mi columna de hoy, 3 de octubre de 2007, en El Diario / La Prensa dedicada al caso de los jovencitos de Louisiana conocidos como "Los 6 de Jena" (The Jena 6).



Este es un caso que el Southern Poverty Law Center describe como "un caso que ejemplifica claramente cómo los acusados negros en este país son tratados de manera mucho más severa que los acusados blancos."

Sweat the Fat / Suda el jamón

I saw this video without knowing what it was at first and got a big kick out of it. The kick was not quite as big once I realized it was part of a Nike campaign.

Click here for a short article in Spanish about it.

Fight consumerism with consumerism. Horay?!

At least Nike's proposal involves excercise, endorphins and (hopefully) fresh air.

Here's a taste of the lyrics...

"Lo que prometieron,
fue por mejores de liposucciones
y también otros peores
De tanto jamones, con bisturís, cicatrices, moretones y dolores
Yo no me quiero emplasticar
No quiero el culo de otra, quiero el mío tal cual
[...]
un cuchillo, lejos de mi ombligo
ahora que yo te lo digo
ya verás que no puedes conmigo
Suda el jamón
Suda el jamón que así te pones bombón."

What they promised
was liposuctions
for so many hams
with scalpels, scars, black & blues and pain
I don't want to get all plastic
I don't want someone else's ass
I want the one I have
[...]
a knife, get it away from my bellybutton
now that I'm telling you
you'll see you can't get over on me
Sweat the fat
Sweat the fat

Till the Break of Dawn: Hip-Hop Theater Takes Us from Brooklyn to Havana

It’s not often that we get to listen to the voices of the artists, activists and young professionals that represent the idealism, thirst for social justice and contradictions of the hip-hop generations. TV, radio, magazines and newspapers are usually saturated by hip-hop’s most predictable and cliché products. That is why I enthusiastically recommend folks go see the play Till the Break of Dawn, written and directed by two time Obie award winner Danny Hoch.

The action takes place over the course of Summer 2001 and focuses on a group of young New Yorkers that travel to Cuba to participate in Havana’s hip-hop festival. Most of them are Latinos, the organizer Gibran (Jaymes Jorsling) is African American and the man in charge of financing the trip is Adam (Matthew-Lee Erlbach), the Jewish owner of a small record label that promotes politically engaged rappers. Their diverse ethnicities, races, educational backgrounds and political stances provide great opportunities for the playwright to explore some of the complexity of young urban voices.

(Image by Sara Krulwich/The New York Times)

The rest of the traveling crew includes foul-mouthed and ill-tempered Big Miff (Dominic Colón) and schoolteachers Rebeca (Maribel Lizardo) and Robert (Johnny Sánchez), a couple that is constantly at each other’s throats and fighting over matters ranging from the most trivial to the profoundly philosophical. Then there’s Nancy (pattydukes) a Dominican art curator and her boyfriend Hector (Flaco Navaja), a Boricua web designer who is equally passionate about revolutionary ideals and smoking weed.

Once in Cuba, the group meets characters that challenge their political naivete and fiery arrogance, schooling them about the constantly shifting terrain between idealism and reality. Among the characters they meet in Cuba are Dana (Gwendolen Hardwick), an ex-Black Panther and U.S. political exile who lives in Cuba, and Felito (Luis Vega) a young Cuban who is perpetually quoting U.S.-made commercials and rap lyrics.

This play is charged as much with humor as with political and social commentary. It provides enjoyment and insights for spectators coming from any angle. But I will put on my educator’s hat now and stress that the play is, in particular, a must-see for young hip-hop fans, their parents and teachers. It provides a rare opportunity at entertainment as well as tons of food for thought, written in a language and style that will appeal to young folks because it will strike them as their own.

The play opened September 13 and will run until October 21 at the Abrons Arts Center (212-352-3101) in Manhattan’s Lower East Side. 466 Grand Street (corner of Pitt Street).

Teatro Hip-Hop: Till the Break of Dawn

Haga click aquí para mi columna de El Diario / La Prensa de hoy, miércoles 26 de septiembre.

Who said ‘bitch’?

According to Knicks coach Isiah Thomas, if a white man calls a black woman a “bitch” it’s worse than if a black man insulted the same woman using the same word.


A brief recount of some of the coach’s court statements last Monday:

Thomas said he never called ex-Knicks vice president of marketing Anucha Browne Sanders a “bitch”.


He also said it is not right for any man to call a woman a bitch. But, for him, “bitch” directed at Sanders by a white man like former Knicks executive Frank Murphy would be much worse than the same insult from the mouth of a black man like basketball star Stephon Marbury.

On Tuesday, the New York Daily News criticized Thomas’ “double standard”.

Initially, as I read the article, it seemed to me that Thomas was being a coward by trying to deflect the accusations against himself and Marbury and, to top it off, using the loaded language of racial community and solidarity. I had just been reading Mark Anthony Neal’s excellent book New Black Man the day before and Thomas seemed to be making the classic “race trumps gender” argument that Neal criticizes.

But when I started reading the comments to the Daily News article posted on the Internet, I was puzzled that quite a few readers were accusing Thomas of having said that a black man has the right to insult a black woman, but not a white man. Something similar was erroneously reported on CNN and the New York Post.

That was NOT what Thomas said!

What exactly did the coach say? I found a partial transcription in Newsday and, though his statements are still highly questionable, they are not as scandalous as many are making them seem. Thomas did not pull the race factor out of a hat, but brought it up when he was asked about Murphy insulting Sanders. He brought it up to emphasize that he would not have tolerated such insults from Marbury OR Murphy… but especially from Murphy. Sure, that may be Thomas' manipulative tactic of eliciting sympathy toward himself for being a respectable black man who cares in particular about “his” people.

But if we’re going to criticize Thomas, let it be for what he said, not for what we misunderstood he said.

It seems to me that many media outlets and readers are much too eager to have examples to say: “See... black people are obsessed with race! Black people are even more racist than white people!”

Huh? Race IS still a big factor in this country… and definitely not because black people are imagining it. Is it really that shocking that, in a racist society, a black man would admit to having a more emotional response to insults directed against one of “his”—particularly when “his” is the group at the bottom of the racial hierarchy?

I’m not defending Thomas’ statements. More than anything, his words seem like the perfect example of what Mark Anthony Neal describes as African American men failing to own up to their privilege as males.

All I’m saying is lets stick to what he actually said.

Also, lets keep in mind these ridiculous scandals about who called who a “bitch” next time someone wants to attack rappers and reggaetoneros, as if they were the ones who came up with these dogly insults against women.

¿Quién dijo 'perra'?

Haga click aquí para mi columna de hoy, 19 de septiembre de 2007, en El Diario / La Prensa. La columna se titula "¿Quién dijo 'perra'?" y consiste de mis reflexiones sobre las declaraciones del lunes del entrenador de los Knicks, Isiah Thomas, en el caso en corte donde la ex-ejecutiva de la NBA, Anucha Browne Sanders, lo ha demandado por acoso sexual.

Reggaetón en 'Nuestra América'

Haga click aquí para mi columna de El Diario / La Prensa del 12 de septiembre de 2007, titulada "Reggaetón en 'Nuestra América'".

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.

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.