In Bad Bunny's sonic universe, Puerto Rican pride couldn't be more infectious. The superstar released his sixth studio album this week and it's a collection of joyful rhythms and rallying anthems. Leveraging music past and present to shine a global spotlight on Puerto Rican values and issues, Bad Bunny proves that in the most complicated and painful moments, there is no greater power than prideful music en resistencia. Here, we break down the context needed to fully understand the weight of this music. —Anamaria Sayre
What is the album's message about Puerto Rico's history and future?
DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS, even just in its title — I Should've Taken More Photos — is grounded in capturing a historical record, one both personal and political, of Bad Bunny's home. Documenting that record comes with the joys and sorrows of seeing not only himself change, but the place he loves most — and not always for the better. On "TURiSTA," Sad Bunny channels his heartbreak into an analogy about the tourism industry's impacts on the island — "Tú solo viste lo mejor de mí y no lo que yo sufría" ("You only saw the best of me and not how I suffered") — a message that feels especially urgent as new luxury development projects, spurred by tax incentives for outside investors, are proposed in protected areas, which independent journalist and Bad Bunny collaborator Bianca Graulau has been sounding alarms about.
DTMF also connects the dots between Puerto Rico and another U.S. territory that's suffered similar consequences: Hawaii. "Quieren quitarme el río y también la playa," ("They want to take my river and my beach") Bad Bunny croons somberly on his most political song yet. "Quieren el barrio mío y que abuelita se vaya" ("They want my neighborhood and for grandma to get out.") In "LO QUE LE PASÓ A HAWAii," Bad Bunny makes a strong declaration in favor of independence over statehood while unfurling a warning about a future in which Puerto Rico no longer belongs to Puerto Ricans. He acknowledges the exodus of young people from the island in search for better opportunities and the resulting tragedies. The accompanying short film for the album hits the nail on the head: in it, renowned Puerto Rico filmmaker and poet Jacobo Morales wanders his gentrified neighborhood in shock as he realizes that Americans have taken over and turned it into a place locals can hardly recognize or afford.
But as much as DTMF laments the island's past and present colonization, it's primarily a rallying cry of resistance for Puerto Ricans everywhere. The back cover of the album features the colors of Puerto Rico's independence flag, while in the visualizers for all 17 tracks, Benito offers comprehensive history lessons about the island with an assist from Puerto Rican and Caribbean history scholar Jorell Meléndez-Badillo. "De aquí nadie me saca, de aquí yo no me muevo," ("No one'll kick me out of here, I'm not going anywhere") Bad Bunny sings in the closing track. "Dile que esta es mi casa donde nació mi abuelo" ("Tell them this is my home, where my grandfather was born.") —Isabella Gomez Sarmiento
How has Bad Bunny historically been or not been politically involved?
DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS is steeped in references to the political reality of Puerto Rico, and the precision, intentionality and urgency with which he expresses these themes is not exactly surprising coming from a pop star whose reputation rests on a politicized musical persona.
The global superstar has released a number of politically explicit tracks through the years, including "El Apagón" from his 2022 album Un Verano Sin Ti which called attention to persistent power grid failures and resulting blackouts in Puerto Rico, as well as the protest song "Afilando Los Cuchillos" calling for the ousting of then Governor Ricardo Rosselló. Last year he released the one-off single "Una Velita" to drum up energy for the coming election and once again call attention to a crumbling infrastructure on the island.
Historically, however, not all of Bad Bunny's music has been overtly political. In fact, most of his music lives solidly in the party and heartbreak spaces (more often masterfully towing the line between both). Under disco lights, on tear-stained cheeks, his most powerful messages shine. Tracking back to earlier days where he began pushing and bending conversations around gender expression and becoming an advocate for the LGBTQ+ community, he dove into the sexual politics of reggaeton with 2020's "Yo Perreo Sola" by embodying femininity as a challenge to machismo and a cry for liberation.
While the 30-year-old singer insists he's not trying to be political — just expressing what he feels — Bad Bunny is once again capturing global attention for imminent Puerto Rican struggles by making the personal political. Rising issues of gentrification and irresponsible tourism are leveraged for emotional expression, comparing the negative fallout of tourism on his island to his very own experience as a jilted lover. As he sings about unrequited love, a tattered Bunny personifies both the island and a scorned partially post-colonial Latin America at large. Collective visibility is Benito's revolution. —Anamaria Sayre
What musical references is this album making and what is the political history of those sounds?
Starting the album off with a sample of a the 1975 hit "Un Verano En Nueva York" by the iconic Puerto Rican salsa band El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico was a conscious shout out to the influence Puerto Rican musicians, composers and arrangers on and off the island had on the explosion of the Afro Caribbean dance form known as salsa.
Throughout the early late 1960s and early 70s, the Puerto Rican diaspora in New York City (self identified as Nuyorican) was key to updating the sound and feel of Cuban son, guaracha and mambo, most notably through the Fania Records label. By referencing a visit to New York for just a summer with a song by a band that now has over 60 years of longevity, Bad Bunny seems to be celebrating the music that for many years seemed to be the life force of the island until the later development of reggaeton.
While Puerto Rican musicians very often celebrated their own folk music within salsa's dynamic, jazz-influenced arrangements, it wasn't until later that actual folkloric forms began to gain traction beyond the rural communities where it was born and thrived. Puerto Rican folk music, which can be heard here in Smithsonian's Folkways Recordings, is very distinct from other Afro Caribbean musical forms in the reliance on more stringed instruments than others.
At various places throughout the album there are references to two distinctly Puerto Rican folk styles: plena and bomba. Plena music features what is principally a string group made up of instruments that are variations on the guitar that the Spanish brought with them as they colonized the so-called "New World" in the 16th through 19th centuries. In fact, the Puerto Rican cuatro has been designated as the national instrument of the island (see musician Fabiola Méndez play the cuatro on her Tiny Desk Concert here.)
While light percussion is featured in plena, bomba is much more percussion centric and features drums with West African origin that are used specifically for the bomba dance form. (See El Laberinto de Coco perform an updated form of bomba in their Tiny Desk Concert here.)
In both plena and bomba, dancers are as intrinsic to the forms as the musicians themselves. And while bomba goes back to the era of colonial plantation and plena is a more recent development of the early 20th century, both forms have been used for social messaging as well as a way to maintain Puerto Rican identity first amidst Spanish colonialism, then U.S. imperialism. —Felix Contreras
What is the history of reggaeton as a form of resistance in Puerto Rico?
While its roots are in Panama, reggaeton began to take shape as what it's known today from the streets of marginalized Afro Latino communities of Puerto Rico in the early 1990s. A mixture of hip-hop, Jamaican dance hall and some Afro Caribbean rhythms, the genre started as a vehicle to express frustration about racial inequality, dismal economic opportunities and the lasting impact of colonialism and imperialism.
Reggaeton pioneer Ivy Queen took on the misogyny of the largely male music community as well as a patriarchal Latino society with "Quiero Bailar" in 2003. What started as an underground movement born on mixtapes passed hand to hand has become a multi-billion dollar music industry. Many popular artists still use the form to challenge authority and question societal injustice even as it becomes a global, mainstream genre. —Felix Contreras
DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS is being called Bad Bunny's "most Puerto Rican album yet" — what does that mean and where does this album sit in the context of his career/personal development?
There's an undeniable bit of irony to the fact that almost exactly two years ago to date one of the biggest stars in the world made headlines for acting uncharacteristically superstar-ish. People sounded off across the internet protesting and questioning whether the notorious man of the people had let the fame get to his head. His crime? Taking a fan's phone out of their hand and throwing it for trying to take a picture. This past week he's been making headlines for "throwing" photos again. In DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS, the verb tirar can literally translate to "throw" as in "I should've thrown more photos" (perhaps a knowing nod to his infamous moment of tabloid fame). A more accurate translation would be "I should've taken more photos," a pointed statement on his values and his insistence on maintaining his reputation as a man of his people.
Every new album marks a new era for Bad Bunny. Un Verano Sin Ti was a Caribbean pop-tinged record ripe perfect for disfrutando the full technicolor effects of heartbreak and the summer sun. His last album Nadie Sabe Lo Que Va a Pasar Mañana was delivered as an homage to his trap era, filled with proclamations about stardom that felt a bit out of touch, yet quintessentially authentic for his phone throwing era. The Bad Bunny on this new album who's preoccupied with the passage of time and preservation of memories is a stark and welcome contrast to the former. This record introduces his grown up self, reflective and re-centered on what matters.
Within the context of being on the island, Bad Bunny's love for Puerto Rico isn't any more significant than the love many Puerto Ricans have for it — but it takes on a new importance on a global stage. In a place that historically and currently is in a fight to preserve its culture, there are limited choices for authentic creation that don't include identifying yourself as Puerto Rican first, forever and always. Bad Bunny's artistry is his ability to draw global attention to the lucha with nonchalance. In Bad Bunny's musical landscape, there is no better answer to Puerto Rico's future than cultural pride and freedom. Time and time again Benito has proven that he's strongest creatively when he anchors himself to the island and if DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS is to be believed, home is where he's insistent on staying. —Anamaria Sayre
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