MVP of the Year #2: Bad Bunny
Motherfucker. We take a look at the biggest star of the year, a madman with no limits whatsoever.
This man has become an icon for the entirety of Western culture. He has become a superstar without the ability to tour or promote his music in a conventional way. A lot of money behind him, and he’s used it to push forward what mainstream music - specifically, what Latin mainstream music - can be. 2 proper albums and 1 compilation of outtakes, and he dares threaten to retire. He won’t, and we all know that (and he knows we know that), but after all of this, I don’t think most of us would hesitate.
YHLQMDLG
A visionary as focused and successful as Bad Bunny is rare to find in popular music. And yet, here we have him, breaking reggaeton and Latin trap barriers with such efficiency and tenacity. X 100PRE, from 2018, introduced us to an artist willing to experiment with the structure and themes of his songs, defying the expectations of an artist of his caliber. His trap songs showed his fun and casual side, but denoting the ever-present darkness; his reggaetón smashes featured raw tones and textures, doubling down on old school sounds with a distinctly modern attitude; and in between, his experiments based on rock, 80s pop, ballads and more, delving into his toxic and harmful attitudes, with intense internal questioning. How can we forget the key moment in "OTRA NOCHE EN MIAMI" in which Benito dryly confesses, "I am tired of threesomes and orgies/I am tired that my life is still empty"? Clearly, a very thought out album, in which Bad Bunny took advantage of what we now consider an album and declared himself an ambitious artist with a desire to make noise, beyond hits.
After having fun with J. Balvin on his collaborative album Oasis, YHLQMDLG (an anagram for "Yo Hago Lo Que Me Da La Gana", aka, “I Do Whatever I Want”) is his big comeback, his big new event album. Looking at the list of songs, without even listening to them, we can see that it is a quite different project than X 100PRE: 20 songs, 9 of which do not exceed 3 minutes; 13 guests, when before there were only 3; and a whole lot of producers, both old school and contemporary (it reads a lot like new producers being given the best entry point into the business in the world), unlike the monopoly of La Paciencia and visionary Tainy. Therefore, we already have a different album in its conception; it’s not the semi-conceptual album, thought from the beginning that was X 100PRE, but we have a looser collection of songs, from which we can choose which ones we like and which we don't, adapting to the use of today's playlists. And that conceptual ease is also demonstrated in the music. Benito no longer feels like writing introspective and serious songs, but instead wants to focus more on entertaining the public and himself, trying to enjoy his achievements and celebrate with his people. In other words, he's in the mood. This could perhaps dissuade some pretentious and snobbish listeners, but for the public who knows how to enjoy good songs, YHLQMDLG has a lot to give, since Benito in a good mood gives for one of the most exciting and full of life albums than Latin music has had in a long time.
Bad Bunny and his long team of producers really managed to find several moments of glory on this album. If YHLQMDLG is about "something", it is Bad Bunny going out into the street and describing everything he sees with so much glory and so much empathy, not only for others but for himself. The album begins with “Si Veo a Tu Mamá”, in which he admits that he still has not been able to overcome his former lover, but the tone has changed; now the production is light, with video game tones that jump from side to side, and Benito sings sincerely but calmly at the same time, knowing that his feelings are fleeting, even enjoying his grief - far from the ugly and acid moments of "Soy Peor", "Amorfoda" or "NI BIEN NI MAL". Benito is in a better place, and although he has not rid himself of all his demons, he will not succumb to them.
For this reason, we have songs in which he states clearly what he wants, and all with finely put together productions, with robust and extreme tones, doubling the bet on raw old-school sounds, but with a distinctly modern attitude. “La Dificil” is a song that seems to come and go, but presents one of the most promising production duos out there, Subelo NEO, that put Benito’s voice so well and so clearly in the mix, with melodies abounding in the instrumental as well - not that there need to be more melodies, since just about every line is a hook in and of itself. They’re also present in the beautifully reggae-influenced bounce of “A Tu Merced”, where Bad Bunny challenges the instrumental with a sense of musicality that’s surprising. His voice is so rough and ugly on first listen, yet he presents a lot of nuance and veracity in his performance, something that’s gonna be demonstrated even more as the album goes on. Even when he’s expertly autotuned in “Pero Ya No”, he makes use of that robotic layer to his voice and belts out a snide wave goodbye, like it was nothing.
If anything, this album’s a land of opportunities. It’s a place where so many artists (performers and producers alike) get to explore different sides of the club alongside the leader of the movement. Benito gets legendary reggaetón producer Nesty for “Bichiyal”, a dark, moody song with a stalking producer that never seems to look behind its shoulder, and brings in a fearful Yaviah, who sounds as if he was elevating one step at a time, only to go back to that darkness, that primitive instinct. He gets Chris Jeday and Gaby Music who, with their work with Lunay and Anuel AA, may be the best vocal producers in the game right now, for “La Zona”, a quick affair where Benito’s voice gets toughened up as if he could get eaten between the tick-tocking instrumental. He even gives a chance to one of his new writers and producers, Mora, to make a break for himself as a singer on “Una Vez”, and even if it kinda sounds like amateur hour compared to when Benito joins back in, it’s backed up by an incredible instrumental by Taiko, one of Sky’s protegées, who brings in a backdrop that may be the very sound of the mellow bar where lonely souls meet each other, only to not get together.
Now, of course, some songs are safe bets, obviously destined to be good. That doesn’t mean they detract from the expanding aspect of these songs - far from it, in fact - but it’s very easy to see how and why they are so good. “La Santa” brings in Daddy Yankee and visionary producer Tainy together, for a song where they seem to disregard a lover of theirs for developing feelings for them, as if it was an unspeakable act. Their attitude and performances are despective, outright mean, and yet hurt in some way. Something happened a long time ago, and they won’t speak of it, and Tainy’s production makes sure to project that: wistful synths that hide from the shadows, pianos used for accentuation that don’t mean to reveal a lot more, and dry drums that stray away from everything else. Lead single “Vete” is equally despective, with the kind of minimalist one-long-verse attitude that, while the lyrics say one thing, the voice says another, as Benito seems on the verge of breaking. And even then, the song right after it, “Ignorantes”, tells another story, as it brings in also visionary producer Dimelo Flow for a truly sad, regretful anthem where Benito and Sech question the very essence of what they used to love with such passion in their voices, as they break inside a glass house - the second half of Sech’s verse is particularly inspired, the kind of background yelling that goes beyond anything else that can be properly said.
But there are plenty of moments that are truly daring, and the kind that make an album like this so special. You can get a moment as isolated yet special like “Soliá”, originally a Mora composition as well, that describes the search of a girl to find something to help her forget, as the night gets more dense and weary, and Benito empathizes greatly with her, even if he’s a side character in her story. And as the night grows darker, vocoders come out to take the entire track hostage, as the pain turns into razor blades thrown out into an empty street. On the other side of the spectrum, “Yo Perreo Sola”, also about a girl alone at a club, seems like an obvious hit now, long after it came out, but at first, it was a shock to the system, an excellent kind of feminist anthem where Nesi’s voice moans through a minimalist beat that suddenly pulls out all the stops for a spinal breakdown that cuts through the mix that’s the voice of all those that try and fail to put her down. It’s a stark and joyful song, the kind that breaks through barriers of sound, genre, and gender.
Although, of course, the big risk for this album, the one that raises the ante, the make-or-break song possibly for Bad Bunny’s career, was “Safaera” with Jowell & Randy and Ñengo Flow, a multi-part epic that goes deep into the most underground world of reggaetón. DJ Orma is mostly responsible for this, but the song wouldn’t be what it is without that titanic first section, obviously courtesy of Tainy, whose languid tones take the song’s core down to its very ugly, nasty roots. Once it’s there though, hell breaks loose. Booming percussion being broadcasted through an old reggae DJ mix filtered through contemporary sensibilities, where slowly every performer breaks loose and snaps, all in between a Timbaland sample with Aphex Twin-esque tones, as the darkest aspects of the disco are explored. When Randy’s left alone with that sample, it’s something threatening, something to back down from, yet the song doesn’t pull any breaks. It makes you confront the rhythmic beast this culture has created, even as time stands still. It’s pure and stark reggaeton, the kind that doesn’t know when or how to stop, as the tempo switches, all voices melt into one singular sentiment. Every moment counts, and one cannot be left alone anymore - it would be against the very rules of the song, even as everything crumbles.
It’s the moment where the bar is raised, and suddenly, every decision on the album feels more meticulous and thought out than before. We’re all here to have fun, but working things out can be such a blessing. It’s a moment where, for example, Benito’s collaboration with Anuel AA, “Está Cabrón Ser Yo”, becomes a moment of solidarity and companionship where both artists bring the best out of each other, even if there’s a slight bit of friendly competition between them (notice how Anuel says that comparing him to Bad Bunny is unnecessary, yet both call themselves the best Latin trapper out there; beautiful). Or a song like “P FKN R”, with its funny hook, works as a homage not only to his country and his culture, but also to one of the features in the song, Arcángel, the one who opened the door for him way back in 2016, and who provides an eerily sensual performance, like a snake covering the song.
So a song like “25/8”, an accidentally perfect pop song (“Pero me gusta la CAlle”) where Benito just seems to have a blast in the studio, feels like a promise waiting to be met, as he lets out every flow in the book and lets his melodic abilities fly and shine - he said on a livestream that he’ll perform the entirety of the last verse that fades out halfway through once concerts are back, and that’s something to look forward to. Or, perhaps even more importantly, the final collab on the album, “Hablamos Mañana”, with respectively Argentinian and Chilean artists Duki and Pablo Chill-E, becomes a celebration of each other’s artistry, especially when - god, once again - Tainy’s production challenges everyone on the song to bring in more than they have, as he morphs a thick trap beat into something resembling rock sensibilities, as Duki’s performance becomes tenser, as his flow questions everything around him… so that when the rock breakdown comes in, it feels like the obvious answer; a fireworks explosion as all the artists involved dance around screaming of joy, to laugh instead of crying. The noise has been made - now it’s time to fall and bask in what you’ve accomplished.
At the end of the day, that’s what this album’s all about. What we have here is an artist who not only knows what he’s doing, but also has the resources and the contacts to carry out his vision. Almost naturally this album has moments of excess, or themes in which Benito may feel too confident, or complacent. But when you're looking to do so many things, and you do them just as well as here, it's worth excusing. YHLQMDLG reflects a sort of seemingly unshakable confidence from an artist who’s more than comfortable letting so many other artists share his vision with them, and that is to be celebrated. He does whatever he wants, and he’s earned it.
Las que no iban a salir
Review published on this Substack back in May.
EL ÚLTIMO TOUR DEL MUNDO
You kinda wanna gush at a record like this. So buoyant, so thoughtful and thought out, the kind where you can tell everyone involved had a clear idea in mind and also had a blast setting it in motion. By all means, EL ÚLTIMO TOUR DEL MUNDO is a fun listen, yet it’s a complicated kind of fun. YHLQMDLG was more straightforward in terms of what it wanted to both present and represent; it was a recollection of different moods on Benito’s mind, accompanied by different musicians who brought in their own take on what he was feeling, like a night out on the town where everyone you know is there and is happy to join you for a little while. It was carefree, but not lightweight. There were complicated feelings on that album, but all within a mindset of knowing there was a lot to enjoy during that particular moment. It reveled in the little pleasures of the now, but also acknowledged there were still some wounds that hadn’t been processed all the way.
EL ÚLTIMO TOUR DEL MUNDO focuses much more on the latter than it does the former. It has a lot of fun in its riches and its knowing that it can do whatever it wants, but it uses that privilege to tell a story of pondering, yearning and looking out for something it knows it can no longer find. Benito’s in a darker place this time around, and the music reflects a kind of mild sorrow that prevents him from being as carefree as he usually is, or, at the very least, puts that carefree attitude of his in a different, more convoluted light. The music goes a great deal to reflect that. The reggaetón sound and aesthetic he had established in previous releases is gone - you can count 2, maybe 3 reggaetón songs in here - and is replaced for more solemn, guitar-led rap grooves, that hardly seem to be musically bright in their arrangements. The opening track should tell you that immediately (those have become very important for him). “EL MUNDO ES MÍO” kicks off the album with plucking synths that look towards a dead horizon, sometimes accompanied by darker keys that could have come from Kanye West’s most obscure moments. Meanwhile, Benito sings about his stature and his larger-than-life figure, yet it hardly sounds like the victory lap it’s set out to be. When the beat fades out and he’s left alone with his own backing harmonies, it’s all low-key, calmed - his by-now catchphrase “Yo hago lo que me de la gana” sounds like an omen. The celebration’s over, and now it’s time to move on.
Then again, moving on is one of the main factors of the album. At some point during lockdown, something went deeply wrong and now Benito’s suffering from it. A lot of songs here detail a kind of sorrow regarding his failed relationships, how this one certain memory won’t seem to get away from him. Interestingly enough, it’s a kind of love that crosses genre barriers. On one hand, you get one of the few proper reggaetón songs on here, “TE MUDASTE”, a mellow cut that seeks for something it can’t get to, that immediately delves into a synthwave-inspired break at the end, where the synths might as well be dripping neon, a tense cut from what was almost becoming formulaic. But on the other hand, you get one of the many guitar-led emo-rap cuts with an alternative rock a la John Frusciante, “TE DESEO LO MEJOR”, that brings forward a perspective not so explored by Benito before: complete and total accountability, realizing how much he hurt this other person, and not only wishing them well, but hoping they forget about him entirely. He sounds hurt by this too, it’s not something that’s easy for him to admit, and he lets the song fade quickly and immediately.
There are plenty of cuts similar to that one. You get the borderline percussion-less “HACIENDO QUE ME AMAS”, also guitar-led courtesy of guitarist Mick Coogan who gently takes over the song by the end. It’s a cut that instead of consisting of one long verse sandwiched by a long hook, it’s 2 long verses holding together a sad chorus, where he belts out the loss of a relationship that disintegrates right before his eyes. The production all throughout the album is more minimalist than before, and a song like this is proof of that. Possibly the peak of this sort of mood is “LA DROGA”, one of the most intense songs on this album, featuring a Benito on the verge of breaking down, walking around a lit-up yet empty city, and he starts running through the streets as the guitars roar, and the background voices don’t get to calm themselves down as the main vocal does. It’s all starker, emptier, lonelier, and brooder.
That kind of attitude puts some songs under a different context. The third track, “HOY COBRÉ”, is possibly the most sinister Benito’s sounded since way back in 2016’s “Soy Peor”, except this time without the explicit misogyny. A song also meant to be a victory lap, but by using his lower register, it sounds more paranoid and mocking, like he’s going to keep all his wins, his awards, his money, all to himself. He’s making fun of everyone around him because the only other option would be to completely fall into despair. It’s highly enjoyable as a piece of music, but also cautious; scary and scared at the same time. Similarly, a song like “BOOKER T”, a track where he brags about all those behind him, and while he sounds more careless on this one, he also sounds rougher, angrier, which adds a different kind of layer to his bragging, more incessant and unstable. He sounds more unhinged than ever.
Yet, this is the part where the music might take a slight toll for this. Most of the album, especially the run of tracks in the middle, are produced by MAG, a producer previously best known for some Astrid S song and Flo Rida’s “My House” of all things? Certainly, songs that are nowhere near as adventurous as what he’s doing with Bad Bunny. Now, he turns out to be a very good producer, and one with a lot of ideas that push Benito towards rougher edges, more sonically varied and dynamic ideas, and one that keeps in mind how to keep his melodic and musical sensibilities intact, and when to push his buttons. That being said, his leanings towards trap can feel more monotonous than on other Bad Bunny albums, especially in the percussion area, where the trap drums don’t get a lot of variety or flavor to them; a disappointment, especially after said aspect exploded with color on YHLQMDLG. It’s clear they set out to make a non-reggaetón album, and they succeeded pretty well, but they also found themselves returning to some ideas with more frequency than others. Add to that the fact that this album is nowhere near as well sequenced as previous offerings, especially (again) in the middle part where the sentimental tracks are consistently placed in between more hyped up songs - they can’t maintain or switch moods cohesively to save their lives, which is a huge problem for an album that really wants to be seen as a whole piece. Bad Bunny’s previous albums were, among many things, searches for color that, while this album doesn’t neglect, it’s nowhere near as successful at.
That being said, monochromatic this thing is very much not. It looks forward to many tomorrows and many openings, and as hurt as it can sometimes be, it’s not giving up anytime soon. It’s still a ferocious listen, that aims to make the best of its time on earth while it has the chance. A song like “MALDITA POBREZA”, with a straight up rock groove, could come off as hypocritical, given it is an anthem to not being able to afford things to your loved one by a rich man, but it’s written from the point of view of a man who’s definitely been there before, and remembers that feeling vividly. The details in his songwriting are there, and the longing makes him appreciate the one he has beside him even more, even if the frustration doesn’t get to end. Plus, given Benito’s ability to make anthems seemingly out of nowhere, already this hits from a melodic standpoint. Speaking of experimentation, “SORRY PAPI” with Abra doesn’t quite hit the way it wants to, but the languid 80s R&B production moves with a kind of ease that’s to admire, like strutting through a hazy disco and knowing your ground. Perhaps the biggest ‘experimental’ moment on this album is “TRELLAS”, where guitar player Mick Coogan creates a wonderful nighttime atmosphere, with a composition worthy of Gustavo Cerati’s most shoegaze-y moments, a spaced out, blissful moment of inner peace. The kind of yearning that may lead to somewhere better, something healthier. It may come with patience, but it will come.
Meanwhile, the more direct cuts are just as impressive. Listening to the album in full, it’s clear “DÁKITI” with Jhay Cortez was most likely spun because the label desperately asked Benito to give them a surefire hit, but the fact that he’s changed the game so much that this is what qualifies as a surefire hit (and the fact what it was) says a lot about Bad Bunny’s power to tear down genre barriers. To put it plainly, this is a beast, and a dangerous one. Tainy’s production takes us to a deserted beach where a fire seems to burn, and wind travels all around it, to spread it into both these artists, who give in to the ashes with aplomb, wild beasts ready to attack a power not beyond their grasp, even as they sink. Similarly, his collab with Rosalía, “LA NOCHE DE ANOCHE”, is one of the more humorous cuts on the album, a coy game between 2 stars who have been burned yet are gonna play with each other anyway - and as for their performances, both are complete and total pros. And then, right in the middle of the album, there’s “YO VISTO ASÍ”, one of Bad Bunny’s most daring and joyful songs ever, a rock-trap hybrid that celebrates his singularity as a star and influencer. It’s one of his songs where “Yo hago lo que me da la gana” becomes more than a mantra and turns into a lifestyle. It presents a certain empathy for the listener, yet demands them to step up to his level as well; he’s not carrying anyone, because it’s such a surprise he can carry himself! He celebrates that, and as the backing vocals pile up, it turns into a firework of a track, where the melodies turn into sheer euphoria. It’s no longer running through the streets, it’s flying and turning into the most wonderful ashes in the world.
The album quietly ends with his excellent future bass experiment, “ANTES QUE SE ACABE”, like the last hurrah in a music festival (god, remember those?) at the end of the world. Only then, after he’s done expressing his being, he lets tradition come through the door, ending the album with Puerto Rican bolero group Trio Vegabajeño with their own song, “Cantares de Navidad”. It’s cute, and an admission of what led him to become who he is. He’s at a point where he can fail as much as he wants, yet this is nowhere near a failure. Benito’s accidentally built himself a greatest hits compilation for the ages, once again, and it’s gonna keep on lasting. May he have the happiest of holidays, you can tell those matter to him a great deal.