People dance to it, and you refuse to call it music? “It was an aesthetically conservative argument. Rivera, one of the earliest writers on reggaeton. “These gatekeepers of what proper music is, whether they were in journalism or cultural institutions, had many objections,” including the claim that the reggaeton delivery style did not qualify as “singing,” says Raquel Z. This year, artist J Balvin is calling for a boycott of the awards, two years after he and Daddy Yankee were no-shows at the 2019 ceremony following a social media campaign with the phrase “Without reggaeton, there’s no Latin Grammys.” Latin Grammy wins in major categories have been rare for reggaeton stars. Even today, artists complain that the Latin Recording Academy puts reggaeton in its “urban” categories, using what many see as a term of exclusion and segregation. Not surprisingly, institutional respect was hard to come by. Many people with whom I otherwise shared plenty of cultural touchstones scoffed or simply said they hated it. Lyrics were definitely not safe for work and artists who were club favorites were often said to be tied to the drug trade or to be overtly objectifying women. To many ears in the early 2000s, reggaeton sounded somehow uncouth or vulgar. Listening to “Loud,” I was struck by the realization that one of the uglier footnotes to the history of reggaeton is that many people who now swoon over its reach probably disliked it when they first heard it. “It kind of makes me ask myself, what is it that reggaeton has given to the world? What is our legacy?” And look at reggaeton now!” the host says. “ Tantas cosas han pasado, so much has happened. “I still remember the first time I got paid to rap, it was like $500, y yo pensé que quinientos pesos era un millions of dollars, you know!” Ivy Queen recalls in the 10th episode. The podcast charts the journey of this amalgamation of musical influences in a direct line from Jamaica, to Panama, to New York, to Puerto Rico, where it boomed, and now to Colombia and the world.Ī listener can hear Ivy Queen, a strong female leader in a male-dominated subculture, barely containing her wonderment at the global acceptance of the genre that was once the subject of censorship, police crackdowns and political persecutions. “Loud,” which comes out with its 10th and final episode this week, has arguably set a new standard in Latin music-focused historical cultural podcasts, after last year’s WBUR hit “Anything for Selena.” It’s also breaking ground in its use of Spanish and Spanglish as the de facto lingua of the show, and the inspired choice of reggaeton original Ivy Queen as its host. It is a thrilling recollection in the middle of a deeply researched production by Spotify Originals and Futuro Studios. ‘This s- is here to stay.’ This was going to completely, completely change the landscape of music.” “Power 106 was playing Don Omar, Super Estrella was playing Daddy Yankee, KIIS FM was playing Ivy Queen, and I was like.
until he stopped at a taqueria, Acosta in the podcast recalls turning on the radio to a new soundscape. After Daddy Yankee was trailed across East L.A.
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It was the mid-2000s, and Daddy Yankee, who had never been to Los Angeles, was pushing his 2004 breakout album “Barrio Fino.” “He plays for the Yankees?” Acosta remembers a local TV news station asking in response to her pitch.īut the streets of Los Angeles were well aware of Daddy Yankee and the sound of reggaeton, which naysayers at the time called a passing fad. And I had that feeling in my gut of, ‘Oh, my god, this is gigantic.’” I had a chunk of my hair pulled out it was so bad,” Acosta recalls in the buzzworthy Spotify podcast “ Loud: The History of Reggaeton.” “We tried taking him out of the limo a few times, and we just - we couldn’t.
That was the moment it hit local music publicist Ximena Acosta: Reggaeton was here to stay. When Daddy Yankee showed up at a Montebello gas station to hype his infectious hit “Gasolina,” the Puerto Rican recording star drew so many fans he couldn’t get out of the limo.
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