Bad Bunny’s “DTMF” is a love letter to Puerto Rico
The opening track of Bad Bunny's sixth studio album Debí Tirar Más Photos, released on January 5th, doesn't start off the way many of us would expect typical reggaetón songs to. There are no heavy synths punctuating the intro, no bold “wite” melody (as Puerto Ricans call the iconic melody from Jamaica's “Bam Bam” riddim), and no thumping dembow bass line. Instead, “Nuevayol” begins with a sample from El Gran Combo’s salsa classic “Un Verano En Nueva York,” the first sign that we’re looking forward to something different. And when the album's 17 tracks are finished, we'll have been taken on a tour of Puerto Rico's rich musical history. This is Bad Bunny's most Puerto Rican and emotionally vulnerable album to date, where he uses the island's musical soundscape as a canvas to comment on the many socio-political issues while cultivating the musical terroir of Puerto Rico's future.
“Debí Tirar Más Photos,” which translates to “I should have taken more photos,” comes at a crucial time for Puerto Ricans, both on the island and throughout the diaspora. As the same government that helped lead the island into corruption and decay is about to take office, there is no guarantee that our traditions or way of life will not be directly affected. This is the passage of time, and the impact of over 500 years of colonization cannot be underestimated.
Bad Bunny, born Benito Antonio Martínez, seems to understand this better than most. The album is loosely framed around the idea of the singer entering the new year alone and reflecting on a lost love, which can easily be related to the loss of agency, sleep, and a promising future that many Puerto Ricans struggle with. Our beaches are slowly being poisoned. Our country is being sold to crypto billionaires. And our lights still don't stay on.
Under these circumstances, it's not hard to see how nostalgia for the past can serve as an escape. But even though his character might drink pitorro and reminisce about an ex, Martínez doesn't wallow in nostalgia. He uses it to bridge the gap between the island's past and its future. While the opening track begins with a salsa sample that praises Puerto Rican legends such as salsero Willie Colón and the owner of the last remaining Puerto Rican club in NYC, Maria Antonia Cay (known as Toñita), the second song on the album In “Baile Inolvidable,” Martínez harmonizes in his typical urbano cadence over the horns, keys and the typical Salsa orchestration by Libre de Musica San Juan. This is followed by titles borrowed from less commercial genres, such as Bomba y Plena, Música Jíbara and Bachata. But while the soundscape of “DTMF” has much to do with the island’s past, the voices within are primed to shape the island’s musical tradition for years to come.
Puerto Rico's next big hit, RaiNao, is featured on the track “Perfumito Nuevo,” a sexy, upbeat reggaetón number with pulsating, alternating dembow rhythms that's perfect for a day trip along Puerto Rico's sun-drenched Carreteras. The next track, “Weltito,” enlists the support of up-and-coming Latin-jazz-tropical-fusion quartet Chuwi.
Martínez may be a once-in-a-generation superstar, but he has always understood that he is part of a larger musical tradition that includes the likes of Hector Lavoe, Andres Jimenez, Olga Tanon, Big Pun, Tego Calderon and many more belong. And with that comes a certain amount of responsibility. Martínez knows that every artist he features will be thrust into the spotlight, and he uses his platform accordingly to ensure the tradition continues long after his death.
There has been a recent “back to basics” movement in the PR underground scene, with new artists experimenting with more traditional sounds, which includes the artists featured on the album, including Chuwi, Rainao, Omar Courtz and Dei V part of. Even Rauw Alejandro adopted a more classic style and paid homage to the diaspora on his last album with a cover of “Tú Con El” by Frankie Ruiz. It's no wonder then that after “nadie sabe lo que vas a pasar mañana, “The Trap Masterclass that was his last album, Martínez's latest project would see him take a more versatile direction and use his platform to do so help push the island's sound direction.
But in many ways, Bad Bunny is also something of an anti-superstar. While being a pop star often means trading a more sophisticated sound for something that appeals to the masses, Martínez has done the opposite. As his fame grew, his musical career veered away from the typical pop star existence and led him onto the path of an author and activist, similar to hip-hop artist and rapper Kendrick Lamar. Likewise, as his fame increased, his albums became less accessible and more isolated. “DTMF” is not an album aimed at an external audience. It is not intended to appeal to tourists, which is what the artist addresses in the title “Turista,” a cautionary tale about falling in love with the superficial but being unwilling to accept or be with the imperfections of a person or, in this case, a place to live with them.
But perhaps the most impressive track on the CD is “Lo Que Le Paso a Hawaii.” In it, Bad Bunny examines the similarities between Hawaii and Puerto Rico, how both were declared U.S. territories in 1898, and how the transition from colony to statehood served American interests while the cost of living rose and native Hawaiians were marginalized. It's an eerily similar parallel to what Martínez sees in Puerto Rico today: the influx of American expatriates, the gentrification of cultural centers and the government's push for statehood. No wonder the artist was moved to tears during a recent visit to San Juan. The album is full of bittersweet feelings like this.
If “Un Verano Sin Ti” was a love letter to Caribbean culture (Spanish and non-Spanish speaking) and “nadie sabe lo que va a pasar mañana” was a tribute to Puerto Rican street life, then “DTMF” is one Celebration of who we are as people, a testament to our courage and contribution to music as a whole. Of course, the traditional genres are well represented here, but there are also influences from house and spoken word, reminding us of the role we played in the advancement of these arts.
Martínez uses nostalgia as a weapon here, taking aim at those who would see us driven from our lands and erased from history, and he does so in the most Puerto Rican way: by making noise. And in doing so he fully developed as an artist and visionary. And that vision puts his island and his people at the center of everything he does. As he says on one of my favorite songs from the album “EoO”: “You’re listening to Puerto Rican music. We grew up listening to it and singing it. In the projects, in the hoods. Since the 90s, the 2000s until forever.”
Miguel Machado is a journalist with expertise in the intersection of Latin American identity and culture. He does everything from exclusive interviews with Latin music artists to opinion pieces on topics relevant to the community, personal essays related to his Latinidad, and thought pieces and pieces on Puerto Rico and Puerto Rican culture.
