Can you remember where you were the first time you heard Daddy Yankee’s Gasolina? That early-00s smash hit by the Puerto Rican star sparked a reggaeton revolution, which, even today, shows few signs of slowing down. In fact, Yankee's next world-conquering hit, a feature on Luis Fonsi's inescapable Despacito, came just a few years ago, in 2017.
That track was everywhere – supermarkets, school discos, TV adverts. Before Lil Nas X's Old Town Road knocked it off its perch, the song spent 16 weeks at Number One in the Billboard charts and became the most streamed track of all time. It's no coincidence that, shortly after, Cardi B and Beyoncé were collaborating with urbano stars Bad Bunny and J Balvin. Reggaeton rules 21st-century pop.
But this isn't the whole story. The past decade has seen reggaeton undergo a sonic transformation. The genre, characterised by its fundamental Caribbean rhythm, dembow, has spawned several hybrid sounds that have ushered the genre’s intoxicating flow into the mainstream – or soon will do. And right now, it's reggaeton's curious synergy with the electronic underground that remains the most compelling of all.
Reggaeton was built on a foundation of multicultural collaboration. In late-70s Panama, the US-controlled Canal Zone construction attracted West Indian and Caribbean migrant workers, and it was on their commute to the docks on local buses, called Diablos Rojos (or 'red devils'), where they shared Jamaican riddims with their Panamanian peers. Spanish lyrics free-flowed over these dancehall and reggae pulses, eventually adopting the dembow beat. This new sound evoked its tropical surroundings: light, carefree, sun-dappled.
In the early '90s, the sound was prepped for the big time courtesy of Puerto Rican collective and club night The Noise, which spotlighted pioneering artists like Ivy Queen, Daddy Yankee and Tego Calderón. The Noise was an underground space for sonic experimentation, a place where reggaeton fused with hip-hop en Español and, crucially, the darker, club--friendly electronic music that informs the sound we know as reggaeton today.
This magpie approach is an integral part of reggaeton’s DNA and continues to reshape modern expressions of the genre. In the past few years, dembow has been used increasingly in dance music, and these hybrid sounds, which include everything from ambient dembow to straight-up industrial stomps, are ushering in a new pack of artists who straddle – and blur – genre lines.
Colombian-born, Mexico City-based DJ and producer Rosa Pistola is a major proponent of this fusion. Operating in the harsher, noisier reaches of reggaeton, she came up in Mexico’s Perreo Pesado crew, making a name for herself with sets that folded in old-school reggaeton, industrial clanks and up-tempo hooks, and were often drenched in the sexually-charged language that characterises the genre. She attributes her sound to a hyper-digital world in which artists from all over the globe can connect and launch new musical movements. “Thanks to globalisation, the internet and social media, we’re all very connected. Now we can communicate easily with people from other countries who can influence, inspire and motivate us to make unique sounds within [reggaeton],” she tells us.
While her iteration of perreo – the nickname given to the style of dancing that reggaeton inspires – isn’t specifically internet-adjacent, it is cybernetic. Dembow pulses work against metallic clattering and calibrated vocals, with a visual aesthetic inspired by the urban surroundings of the barrio. “I make industrial reggaeton," she explains. "A lot of people think my style has to do with techno, but the reality is that techno is just a tiny part of industrial music. It’s a wider term that embodies many sub-genres. Before I became a reggaeton artist, I was in a noise band and making witch house. I’ve always been experimenting with music, and I love all music, so why not experiment with the sounds of my culture?”
Pistola might be part of the new school of Latinx artists bending the genre’s historical roots into new shapes, but she’s quick to acknowledge the impact that travelling around the world has had on her. “I was very inspired to make [my album] Reggaeton Tech after travelling around Europe because of the music I was being exposed to," says Pistola. "In Europe, people still don’t understand traditional reggaeton and it’s hard to incorporate that sound and keep audiences happy – so I made my own. This past year we’ve seen this genre fusion happen on a large scale and I love that our music is growing.”
Others have taken a more meditative approach, leaving room for electronic flourishes to ring out while the dembow lingers – a deeper sort of reggaeton that is as hypnotic as it is club-ready. Kelman Duran, an LA-based, Dominican DJ and producer who creates ambient reggaeton, is dedicated to platforming the transcendent capabilities of the Caribbean sound. “Reggaeton, like most things, has multiple sides. The dancing side is prominent. I try to make danceable music, but I also want people to focus on the lyrics and the spirituality of it. Sounds corny, I know!” he laughs. “I would hope that our pan-African and Caribbean sound is subsumed into the category of electronic music. I can admit, I am guilty of trying to add to that dialogue.”
DJ Python – aka Brian Piñeyro – is a Latinx producer who also hails from New York City’s electronic underground. First exposed to the genre during his teenage years in Miami, Piñeyro was immediately drawn to its stomping kick drums and syncopated snares. But he decided to recontextualise these street sounds into a vision of his own. Around the same time, Piñeyro began to cut his teeth in underground dance music circles, producing lo-fi 'outside' house and techno under names like Luis, DJ Wey and Deejay Xanax. This meeting of worlds is what inspired him to work under the DJ Python alias – a space for him to bring together and explore his affinity for slippery grooves, house tempos and dembow rhythms.
Other new-school artists aren't quite so subtle. The neo-perreo movement – a name coined by Tomasa del Real – thrives on maximalism. This digitally-manipulated, feminist-led offshoot, led by the likes of del Real, Ms Nina and Bea Pelea, is praised for the progressive politics and experimental sounds at the centre of its subculture.
“I’ve always worked with weird sounds, collaborating with producers from different countries and creating a network online," explains del Real, echoing Rosa Pistola. "I then adopted all the aesthetics of the internet since I was on it so much." Bea Pelea takes a similar view, too. “Reggaeton’s sound has evolved because we now have more resources online, so producers have more to say. Electronic music is merging with reggaeton and is adapting more to its new space and time,” says says. “When I listen to Florentino, Fakeguido, Paul Marmota or Kelman Duran, I think: wow, something new is happening here, and I like it a lot.”
With its off-centre beats, prominent synth lines and auto-tuned vocals championing sexual autonomy, queerness and female independence, the neo-perreo movement is breathing new life into traditional forms of reggaeton. The arrival of tracks like Tomasa del Real’s Perra del Futuro, Rosa Pistola’s Papi Chulo and Ms Nina’s Tu Sicaria especially ignited a turning point for the genre; their experimental production techniques, hard-as-nails bass and pitched-up vocals have turned club-infused reggaeton into the new normal.
Thanks to reggaeton's shapeshifting tendencies, Latinx artists of all sounds are reaching more people than ever. Not only are they being championed by the mainstream – see J Balvin and Bad Bunny – but also by the clubbing underground. Go to festivals like Unsound and Dekmantel and you might find cult techno DJs booked to play alongside artists like Rosa Pistola and Kelman Duran.
Even as we step into a new decade, the collaborative spirit of reggaeton remains strong. In our digital world, we're no longer bound by language, geography, socio-political landscapes or indeed the limiting confines of genre. And if 2019 is anything to go by, reggaeton's ability to bend to new trends and ideas is only in the warm-up zone.