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The Influence of Narcoculture on Popular Music: A Critical Look at Reggaeton’s Narco-Messages and Narco-Representations

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  16 May 2022

OMAR RUIZ VEGA
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Abstract

In this study, I take a critical look at the presence of narcoculture in reggaeton using as a case study the music video of the remix of ‘Somos de calle’. Specifically, I evaluate whether and to what extent reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations – when they converge with other variables – could potentially influence an individual’s modes of thinking and behaviour. The study does not aim to provide a definitive answer to the debate surrounding this issue. More than anything, it strives to analyse the extent to which the claim that such influence may occur has scientific merit, in order to advocate further research on this matter. The article also discusses the highly politicized debate that has surrounded this topic in public discourse, and how this has seemingly affected its critical assessment in academia. For the analysis I rely particularly on social psychology literature concerning violent media content and in the areas of persuasion studies and prejudice studies, but I also consider literature from other fields, including criminology.

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Article
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Journal of the Royal Musical Association , Volume 147 , Issue 1 , May 2022, pp. 77 - 104
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© The Author(s), 2022. Published by Cambridge University Press on behalf of The Royal Musical Association

Introduction

In the 1960s, the demand for illegal drugs both in Puerto Rico and in the USA – to where most of these drugs arriving on the island were ultimately exported – increased significantly.Footnote 1 As a result of this increase in demand, the illegal drug trade became a much more lucrative enterprise and began to expand rapidly. As in other countries, the expansion and gradual consolidation of the drug trade in Puerto Rico involved the formation of various drug-trafficking organizations.Footnote 2 These criminal organizations have operated in particular from within Puerto Rico’s poor barrios and housing projects. The residents of these marginalized communities have not benefited much from the national economy, and this is certainly an important part of the reason why drug-trafficking organizations have been able to establish a strong presence there.Footnote 3 There is no doubt that the drug trade has served as a means for some residents of these neighbourhoods to improve their financial conditions, sometimes exponentially. Nevertheless, the trade-off for such economic progress has been disastrous overall for these communities. As a result of the drug trade, gun violence, drug addiction and incarceration rates among the residents of Puerto Rico’s poor barrios and housing projects have increased drastically;Footnote 4 for example, in 1997 it was estimated that around 70% of all homicides in Puerto Rico were drug-related.Footnote 5 Most of these victims were young male adults from Puerto Rico’s most disadvantaged communities, a situation that remains the same today. Several scholars have already studied these issues. What has not received sufficient attention, however, is the particular type of narcoculture that began to take shape within the poor barrios and housing projects concerned. This culture of drug trafficking manifests itself in numerous ways, and is by no means limited to these communities, as we shall see. In this study, I focus on the expressions of Puerto Rican narcoculture that can be discerned in reggaeton music.

Reggaeton is a popular-music genre that began to develop in Puerto Rico’s poor urban barrios and housing projects in the early 1990s.Footnote 6 During its formative stages, reggaeton was particularly influenced by Jamaican dance hall, Panamanian reggae en español and US hip hop. Throughout the 1990s, reggaeton artists gradually increased their fan base in Puerto Rico, as well as across Latin America and within the Latino population in the USA. The genre’s big commercial breakthrough occurred, however, in the early 2000s, when three recordings in particular played a pivotal role. First, Tego Calderón’s El Abayarde (2003) helped to bring reggaeton music into the mainstream in Puerto Rico,Footnote 7 while concomitantly making the genre more popular abroad. One year later, the New York rapper N.O.R.E. released the song ‘Oye mi canto’ (2004), in which he collaborated with – among others – the Puerto Rican reggaeton artist Daddy Yankee.Footnote 8 This song became a huge success in the USA, reaching the thirteenth position in the Billboard Hot 100 chart in November 2004.Footnote 9 The fact that ‘Oye mi canto’ contains both Spanish and English lyrics certainly contributed to its popularity among non-Spanish-speaking audiences. Around the same time that this song was popularizing reggaeton among a broader non-Spanish-speaking audience, Daddy Yankee released the album Barrio fino (2004). The remarkable commercial success of this album, which included the highly successful song ‘Gasolina’, helped to solidify reggaeton’s position as an important player within the international music market.

Ever since this breakthrough in the early 2000s, reggaeton artists have continued to enjoy high levels of success, particularly in Spanish-speaking countries. More recently, however, interest in the genre beyond its core Spanish-speaking fan base has been propelled by the tremendous success of the song ‘Despacito’, originally recorded by Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankee, and featuring Justin Bieber in the remix (2017). Like ‘Oye mi canto’ and ‘Gasolina’ in the early 2000s, but to an even greater extent, ‘Despacito’ became a worldwide sensation. The song even reached the Number 1 position in the Billboard Hot 100 chart, a feat not achieved by a song sung in Spanish since 1996,Footnote 10 and ended up breaking seven Guinness records, among them that for the first YouTube video to reach five billion views.Footnote 11

Around the time that ‘Despacito’ became a worldwide sensation, new talents mainly from Puerto Rico began to gain more recognition in the music industry. Among them were Anuel AA, Jhay Cortez, Myke Towers, Ozuna and Bad Bunny. This new generation of reggaetoneros or traperos – in tandem with already well-established artists such as Farruko and the Colombian J Balvin – has also contributed significantly to the recent popularity of the genre beyond its core Spanish-speaking fan base. Particularly important in this regard has been Bad Bunny, whose album YHLQMDLG (Yo hago lo que me da la gana) reached the Number 2 position in the Billboard 200 album chart in March 2020. With this album, ‘Bad Bunny achieve[d] the highest-charting all-Spanish-language album ever on the all-genre chart.’Footnote 12 On the basis of this recent development, one can say that reggaeton music currently finds itself at an important historical juncture.

The links between reggaeton music and Puerto Rican narcoculture have been a topic of debate throughout the genre’s history, even though the term ‘narcoculture’ has not commonly been used explicitly. For instance, in the early 1990s, when reggaeton music was still called ‘underground’,Footnote 13 the genre was heavily criticized for – among other things – its violent and drug-related content.Footnote 14 The outcry against ‘underground’ music encouraged the Puerto Rican government in 1995 to prohibit it.Footnote 15 That, of course, proved to be unconstitutional. Nevertheless, the debate over reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations has persisted until the present.

For the most part, arguments in this debate have tended to oscillate between two extreme poles. On the one hand, the critics argue that reggaeton’s explicit content represents a danger to society and morality. They contend that the messages disseminated through the genre promote – among other things – drug use, as well as criminal and violent behaviour. Reggaeton’s defenders, on the other hand, tend to dismiss the assumption that a musical expression like reggaeton could have any actual effect on an individual’s behaviour. Poverty, unemployment, disenfranchisement and other kinds of socio-economic problems are, in their view, the catalysts for drug abuse as well as criminal and violent behaviour. Reggaeton artists – so they say – are simply ‘telling it like it is’. That is, they are portraying the hard realities of life in Puerto Rican poor barrios and housing projects. The same types of argument can be found among reggaeton scholars: in particular, the notion that reggaeton is simply illustrating the hardships of life in Puerto Rico’s marginalized communities is commonly accepted, as we shall see; similarly, the potential negative effects of reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations have been for the most part dismissed or heavily downplayed.

The discussion concerning reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations – both in academia and in public discourse – has not relied for the most part on empirical evidence on either side. More than anything, positions have been established on the basis of political ideologies and alliances, and this has had the unfortunate effect of overly politicizing the issue. One of the main objectives of this article is to attempt to go beyond this politically biased debate and to explore the topic in a more impartial and critical manner. Specifically, I evaluate whether and to what extent reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations – when they converge with other variables – could potentially influence an individual’s modes of thinking and behaviour. This study does not aim to provide a definitive answer to this issue; more than anything, it strives to analyse, on the basis of the available research, the extent to which the claim that such influence may occur has scientific merit. This is an important question, as the topic has been for the most part ignored by reggaeton scholars and remains understudied. The analysis will rely particularly on research in social psychology concerning violent media content and in the areas of persuasion studies and prejudice studies. However, I shall also consider literature from other fields, including criminology.

Narcoculture and reggaeton music

The study of narcoculture has been gaining impetus since the early twenty-first century. Some scholars, however, had already begun to analyse the phenomenon as early as the 1990s.Footnote 16 Central and South American researchers have conducted many of these investigations, so a significant part of the available literature has been published in Spanish. Studies of narcoculture have concentrated particularly on its manifestations in Colombia and Mexico, reflecting the strong presence of powerful drug-trafficking organizations in these two countries over the last 50 years. Nonetheless, narcoculture has also been investigated in countries such as Brazil and Chile.Footnote 17

Concerning Puerto Rico, the literature available is very limited. Among the few publications on the subject are the articles by Iván Chaar López published in the online magazine 80 grados. Footnote 18 More recently, Luis Javier Cintrón-Gutiérrez published an essay on this topic in the book Caribbean without Borders (see above, note 3), and Rafael Ponce-Cordero published a study concerning the relationship between reggaeton and narcoculture in the journal Mitologías hoy in which he analyses the manifestation of narcoculture and social banditry in the Puerto Rican film Talento de barrio. Footnote 19 The film tells the story of a Puerto Rican drug dealer who decides to abandon his illicit business and to concentrate fully on his career as a reggaeton artist. Daddy Yankee – co-producer of the film – stars, and several other reggaeton artists also have minor roles in the film. Besides Ponce-Cordero’s article, there are a few studies which discuss certain topics related to the presence of narcoculture in reggaeton music without, however, using the term ‘narcoculture’ explicitly.Footnote 20 This has so far prevented an adequate analysis of certain aspects pertaining to the presence of Puerto Rican narcoculture in reggaeton music – a lacuna which this article aims to fill.

I define narcoculture here as a type of (sub)culture developed primarily in areas with a strong and extended presence of drug-trafficking organizations.Footnote 21 Its symbols, values, beliefs, modes of thinking and behaviour, as well as its artistic expressions and aesthetics, tend to regulate and legitimize the lifestyle of people involved in the drug trade.Footnote 22 It should be noted that, despite some shared characteristics, each country (and sometimes each region) displays its own particular kind of narcoculture, reflecting the fact that the development of narcoculture is always informed by broader cultural values and practices already present in the location concerned. And one does not need to be directly involved in drug trafficking in order to display modes of thinking and behaviour linked to narcoculture.Footnote 23 For instance, a mural honouring the memory of a drug lord already constitutes a manifestation of narcoculture,Footnote 24 for such artistic expressions tend to legitimize the illegal activities committed by these individuals by projecting them as venerable personalities. The same can be said when residents of a community recognize narcotraffickers as community leaders and authority figures.Footnote 25

Certainly, these types of behaviour and modes of thinking are ultimately threatening to social stability, but it would be too simplistic to criticize them without taking into consideration the multiple and complex reasons that allow narcotraffickers to become leaders within the communities in which they operate, which in many cases result from the incapacity of the state to provide a stable and safe environment in these communities.Footnote 26 We must thus be careful not to stigmatize the people that have been influenced by, or rather socialized through, narcoculture because of their close proximity to the world of drug-trafficking organizations,Footnote 27 since it is they who suffer more directly the consequences of the high levels of violence that tend to accompany the drug trade. Many of the behaviours and modes of thinking adopted by residents of marginalized communities constitute survival and defence mechanisms which permit them to confront the difficult environment in which they live.Footnote 28 Concomitantly, it is to a significant extent the frustration at the lack of social and economic mobility that has driven many individuals to criminality.Footnote 29 In this sense, even though criminal activities such as drug trafficking ultimately need to be rejected owing to their potential threats to social stability, the socio-economic strains that promote such types of behaviour in the first place must also be considered before an understanding of such complex phenomena as the drug trade and the culture that has evolved around it can be reached.

These considerations should not lead us, however, to the mistaken view shared by some scholars who believe that by labelling certain types of behaviour and modes of thinking as narcoculture we are stigmatizing the residents of marginalized communities. This line of thinking seems to imply that the phenomenon of narcoculture should not be investigated at all, which in fact amounts to a sort of scholarly censorship. If we accept that argument as valid, we could similarly claim that feminist scholars stigmatize some men by categorizing certain types of behaviour and modes of thinking as sexist. Or we could claim that scholars investigating the phenomenon of racism stigmatize some individuals by labelling certain practices as racists. Should this kind of research be stopped, in order to avoid upsetting anyone that may misconstrue its intentions? How can conditions in our society – particularly within the most disadvantaged sectors – be improved if we are not capable of engaging with such an important topic as narcoculture in a critical manner? Surely censorship is not the way to solve this issue. Care is definitely needed when the topic of narcoculture is addressed in order to avoid promoting discriminatory attitudes against disadvantaged communities. But the same academic rigour should be applied to this topic as to any other scholarly endeavour.

As already mentioned, the links between reggaeton and Puerto Rican narcoculture have not yet been thoroughly explored. For the most part, scholars have considered the genre to be an artistic expression that simply tends to reflect the hardships of life in Puerto Rican marginalized communities.Footnote 30 Zaire Zenit Dinzey-Flores states, for example: ‘The social and economic inequalities experienced by reggaetoneros are rearticulated in lyrics that highlight the plight of people who are poor, stigmatized, and vulnerable to violence.’Footnote 31 Similarly, Marisol Lebrón writes that rap and reggaeton music provide a glimpse of the ‘realities and aspirations of low-income Puerto Rican youths, who are largely shut out of mainstream public discourse’.Footnote 32 There are certainly several reggaeton songs, such as Eddie Dee’s ‘Señor official’ (1997) and Wisin’s ‘Riendo para no llorar’ (2004), that fit this description of reggaeton music. Nonetheless, proportionally speaking, this kind of song constitutes a minority within the genre, as can easily be demonstrated by the subgenre within reggaeton known as maleanteo. Maleanteo songs tend for the most part to idealize gun violence and the world of drug trafficking, and are thus strongly linked to Puerto Rican narcoculture. Songs like ‘Señor official’ and ‘Riendo para no llorar’, however, engage more critically with the socio-economic problems affecting marginalized communities.

One of the main problems with current scholarly analysis is that it tends not to differentiate sufficiently between the plurality of messages and representations disseminated through reggaeton music. The reality is that reggaeton’s representations of the socio-economic problems affecting marginalized communities tend to oscillate between two poles. On the one hand, there are songs such as ‘Señor official’ and ‘Riendo para no llorar’ that engage critically with the subject;Footnote 33 on the other, maleanteo songs such as ‘Jala gatillo’ (Las Guanábanas Podrías, 1992), ‘Bienvenidos a mi mundo’ (Nova y Jory, Cosculluela and Syko, 2009) and ‘Armao 100pre andamos’ (Anuel AA, 2016) for the most part simply glorify the world of drug-trafficking organizations and their underlying values. Other songs – including the case study I discuss below – could be placed at some point between these two extreme poles, depending on how pronounced their links to narcoculture (if indeed there are any) are. In this article, I study mainly those songs and music videos that lean towards the narcoculture pole: that is, I examine reggaeton songs and music videos that tend – to differing degrees – to legitimize gun violence and the illegal drug trade. Such types of song include, but are certainly not limited to, maleanteo songs.

In the following section I analyse the music video of the remix of ‘Somos de calle’.Footnote 34 My aim is to illustrate how Puerto Rican narcoculture manifests itself in this music video. The reasons for choosing the ‘Somos de calle’ remix as the case study are twofold. First, I selected it because several highly influential reggaeton singers (including Daddy Yankee, Arcángel and Cosculluela) are featured in the video. This is significant, for it illustrates that the influence of narcoculture in the genre is no secondary phenomenon, but constitutes rather an integral part of the mainstream of reggaeton. Secondly, I had the opportunity several years ago to interview the director of the music video, Carlos Martín. The additional information gathered from this interview has allowed me to conduct a more thorough analysis of the video.

Even though the ‘Somos de calle’ remix was released in 2008, it can still serve as a representative of more contemporary reggaeton songs. As mentioned above, the presence of narcoculture in reggaeton music has been a constant feature throughout the genre’s history, from early ‘underground’ hits such as ‘Jala gatillo’ to more recent releases such as ‘Por si roncan’ (Almighty and Ñengo Flow, 2015), ‘Armao 100pre andamos’ and ‘Subimos de rango’ (Bad Bunny, Omy de Oro and Shootter Ledo, 2019). Throughout the genre’s history, the same basic elements have been employed to invoke narcoculture, most of which is discussed in the analysis below.Footnote 35

Analysis of the music video of the ‘Somos de calle’ remix

One of the most important elements pertaining to narcoculture featured in the music video of the ‘Somos de calle’ remix is the presence of weapons. Guns are explicitly displayed only in the scene in which Julio Voltio, portrayed in the role of a contract killer or gatillero, chases down a man with what appears to be an AR-15 rifle (2' 22"– 2' 53"), and this scene will be discussed in more detail below. In other scenes (0' 35"–0' 37"; 0' 48"–0' 50"; 1' 10"–1' 12") some of the singers simulate having a gun in their hands and pulling the trigger (see Figure 1). There are also several aural references to guns in the music. For instance, when Chino Nyno sings, ‘We won’t stand being conned [listerías], if you’re a snitch [you get shot] in your mouth, if you eat like a pig [comelón] in your belly’,Footnote 36 we hear a gunshot within the music which clearly makes reference to the sung lyrics. Many other reggaeton songs linked to narcoculture, such as ‘Bienvenidos a mi mundo’, display the sound of gunshots as well as the loading of guns within the music, establishing in this way a sonic connection with the lyrics and visuals of their respective music videos.

Figure 1

Daddy Yankee simulating holding a gun in his hand. Note also the ostentatious jewellery or ‘bling bling’. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 0' 49".

All these references to weapons are significant, for in narcoculture guns ‘are regarded as symbols of power, the person who carries a gun has the power to impose his or her will upon others’.Footnote 37 In general, narcoculture fosters values and ‘modes of behaviour characterized by an extreme “lust for power”’.Footnote 38 Guns are part of narcoculture’s symbolic world and thus help to objectify this exaggerated desire for power. Other important symbols are ostentatious jewelleryFootnote 39 and beautiful women.Footnote 40 The use of jewellery (or ‘bling bling’) constitutes a symbol of power, as it strives to demonstrate the monetary riches the narcotrafficker has achieved through the drug trade. Luxurious items therefore constitute objects with the help of which the narcotrafficker aims to acquire social distinction and legitimation in society. David Moreno Candil, César Jesús Burgos Dávila and Jairo Eli Valdez Batiz write with regard to this:

In relation to drug trafficking, clothing and the possession of luxurious items are elements of desirability, power and social distinction; also a form of legitimation. For Ovalle, ‘To have a watch of the best and most expensive brand, to be with the most attractive woman, to go to the most exclusive places, to own the most striking house, the most luxurious cars; these are all manifestations of the search for acceptance of these individuals.’ Consumption constitutes a symbolic battle in which the goal is to ‘give an impression’, to ‘win over’ and to ‘inspire respect or trust’. Hence, the dress code and the consumption are social practices through which the economic power of the world of drug trafficking reveals itself.Footnote 41

Women (or rather, an objectified version of them) form part of this symbolic world, as indicated above. Essentially, women are valued in narcoculture primarily as precious objects whose worth is intrinsically linked to their physical appearance. Consequently, the ‘possession’ of one or many beautiful women is tantamount to the possession of ostentatious jewellery.Footnote 42 Both function as symbols whose purpose is to highlight the wealth and power attained through drug trafficking.

In reggaeton music all these symbols of power have been adopted. Most of them are discernible in the music video of the ‘Somos de calle’ remix, with the exception of representations of beautiful women as precious objects. (Such representations of women, however, constitute a common feature of many other reggaeton music videos, as other studies have shown.Footnote 43 ) The adoption of narcoculture’s symbols of power in reggaeton music is not surprising. Most reggaeton singers tend to emulate the figure of the bichote or drug lord in their media image or public persona, and many artists have adopted pseudonyms such as the Big Boss (Daddy Yankee), Don Omar, Héctor El Father and Kendo Kaponi, all of which make reference to the figure of the drug lord.Footnote 44 Of course, when reggaeton artists adopt the image of the drug lord and his symbols of power, they reinterpret them in the process, for their intention is to illustrate monetary gains they have acquired legally by means of their artistic success within the music industry. This reinterpretation, however, does not undermine the legitimizing effect that this appropriation entails, since the connection to the figure of the drug lord is still significantly present.

The reinterpretation of the gun as a symbol of power in reggaeton music follows a dynamic that differs from the resignification of ostentatious jewellery and the ‘possession’ of beautiful women. As we have seen, jewellery and women tend to highlight the riches obtained through the drug trade or, in the case of reggaeton artists, through musical success. In contrast, guns are more directly connected, as we have also seen, to the capacity of imposing one’s will upon others. They thus allude to the mentality of (literally) eliminating anyone who ‘gets in our way’. Such a mindset clearly resembles the types of behaviour accepted within narcoculture’s code of ethics.Footnote 45 In reggaeton music, gun violence is often used figuratively by the singers when they want to assert their superiority over another ‘rival’ artist, who is usually depicted as having inferior singing skills. In other cases, however, the artists portray themselves as actual killers, emulating thereby the figure of the drug lord.

Occasionally, we find both types of use closely intertwined within one text. For example, in the ‘Somos de calle’ remix Arcángel sings: ‘You better take it easy, because if I catch you around my block you’re going to get shot. / You better take it easy, Arcángel, “the Wonder”, the protagonist of your failure.’Footnote 46 If we analyse only the first sentence of this statement, we could argue that it reflects the tendency among many reggaeton artists to portray themselves as ruthless people, following the drug lord archetype. However, if one considers the whole statement, it could be argued that Arcángel is using gun violence figuratively in order to affirm his superiority over an unspecified musical adversary. This is not the case, however, when De la Ghetto sings: ‘I am not an assassin, but I pull the trigger when it’s necessary.’Footnote 47 Here we can observe his clear intention of portraying himself as a person not to be ‘messed with’. Even when gun violence is used figuratively, narcoculture’s code of ethics continues to be clearly present and ultimately legitimized.

Closely related to the allusions to guns are references to the figure of the gatillero or contract killer, allusion to which is made directly in this music video when Voltio appears dressed in black with his face covered with a ski mask, chasing down a man through the barrio with the intention of murdering him. In other scenes, we discern more subtle references to the figure of the gatillero. Several sections of the video (for example, at 4' 37"–4' 57") portray in the background men covering their faces with handkerchiefs, alluding to the way in which assassins usually cover their faces when committing a murder. When Baby Rasta mentions in the video (at 4' 45"–4' 46") the Puerto Rican street gang Los Lobos,Footnote 48 some of them are depicted ‘throwing up’ the hand signs of that particular gang. Gangs, naturally, are another intrinsic part of narcoculture (see Figures 2–3), and many other reggaeton songs, such as Myke Towers’s ‘Ganga’ (2019), make reference to them.

Figure 2

Young male covering his face with a handkerchief with a skull motif and ‘throwing up’ gang signs. Detail of still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 4' 45".

Figure 3

Young males ‘throwing up’ gang signs. Note also that they are all wearing the same colours, another reference to gang affiliation. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 4' 45".

Drug trafficking is also depicted in subtle ways in the ‘Somos de calle’ remix. For example, there is a brief scene in which a man is using a walkie-talkie (2' 00"–2' 04"), a device commonly used by drug-trafficking organizations as a means of alerting to the presence of police or gang rivals on their turf (see Figure 4). Furthermore, in several scenes (1' 20"–1' 21"; 4' 35"–4' 37") we can see men – including some of the singers – holding stacks of dollars in their hands. Given the context in which the money is shown, the allusion is presumably to the money that can be made through drug trafficking (see Figures 5–6). On some occasions, however, it can be argued that the stack of dollars makes reference to the artistic success of the singer. As mentioned before, the media image of reggaeton artists tends to emulate – and hence to blend with – the figure of the drug lord. Reggaeton artists constantly play with this singer/drug lord duality through their media representations and song lyrics, just as they do with the drug lord’s symbols of power.

Figure 4

Man talking into a walkie-talkie, a device commonly used in drug trafficking. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 2' 03".

Figure 5

Man counting money in a corner of a barrio. Given the context, the scene seems to allude to the money that can be made through drug trafficking. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 1' 20".

Figure 6

Cosculluela throwing a big stack of dollars to the camera. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 4' 36".

The scenes in which Voltio is depicted as a contract killer also make reference to drug dealing. The man whom he is trying to kill seems to be a drug dealer who at the moment at which he is caught is exchanging money with another man in a corner of the barrio (see Figure 7). Even though these scenes could certainly be interpreted as a warning against the dangers of the drug trade, more than anything they tend to validate the violent behaviour being displayed. We must bear in mind that the focus of attention in the scenes (however brief they are) lies not primarily in the victim being murdered but in the perpetrator (see Figure 8), and so they do not try to evoke disgust towards the violent act; more than anything, these scenes reinforce the typical media image assumed by most reggaeton artists – as tough and notorious individuals. The contract killer, whose character Voltio here depicts, is another important archetype within the world of drug trafficking.

Figure 7

Man being surprised by an assassin or gatillero (Julio Voltio) in a corner of the barrio. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 2' 24".

Figure 8

Julio Voltio hiding the clothes he used during the murder scene (subtly) depicted in the music video. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 2' 46".

Regardless of the multiple interpretations that can be given to this murder scene, it is noteworthy that many reggaeton songs and music videos depict criminal and utterly violent conduct from the perpetrator’s perspective. This is a common trait of representations linked to narcoculture.Footnote 49 The lyrics by Chino Nyno, Arcángel and De la Ghetto quoted above are clear examples of this. More recent instances can be found in ‘Armao 100pre andamos’ when Anuel AA states: ‘What do you think, should we fill his Tacoma with [bullet] holes? And if this motherfucker [cabrón] don’t die, he’s gonna be in a coma.’Footnote 50 Similarly, Almighty sings in ‘Por si roncan’: ‘I’m the cancer of the streets. The guns passed through, I know the bouncer. A wrong move and we’ll fill your Lancer with [bullet] holes.’Footnote 51

Particularly for this reason, the undifferentiated notion that reggaeton music merely portrays the socio-economic problems affecting poor barrios and housing projects in Puerto Rico remains open to question. This constant representation of crime and violence from the perpetrator’s perspective – who, as we can see, is usually the singer – promotes first and foremost identification with the perpetrator rather than the victim. By this means, such representations help first and foremost to legitimize narcoculture’s underlying values, modes of thinking and behaviour. Empathy with the victim is completely absent in this type of representation.

The potential effects of reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations

Some of the most salient elements relating to Puerto Rican narcoculture are thus discernible in the music video of the ‘Somos de calle’ remix. As mentioned before, similar types of narco-representations and narco-messages can be found in many other reggaeton songs and music videos. Narcoculture is by no means the only topic visually thematized in the ‘Somos de calle’ remix. The director strove to portray both the positive and the negative aspects of life in Puerto Rican poor barrios and housing projects.Footnote 52 For this reason, as well as those related to narcoculture, less prominent scenes are present in which daily life in these communities is depicted (see Figure 9).Footnote 53 Similar kinds of representations of daily life and Puerto Rican narcoculture can also be found in many other reggaeton music videos,Footnote 54 but overall the topic of narcoculture predominates in the visuals of the ‘Somos de calle’ remix. This is understandable, since the lyrics are also strongly linked to narcoculture, including, for example, verbal references to gun violence and gang affiliation.

Figure 9

Children riding their bicycles in Loíza, Puerto Rico. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 3' 27".

In this section of the article, I shall examine the potential detrimental effects that the narco-messages and narco-representations disseminated through some reggaeton songs and music videos could have in society, particularly among reggaeton fans from marginalized communities. There have not been, to my knowledge, any previous empirical studies of this aspect. In the analysis I will therefore rely (mainly) on research in social psychology concerning violent media content, as well as in persuasion studies and prejudice studies. The literature on these subjects has demonstrated that media content is capable of actually influencing – for better or worse – our modes of thinking and behaviour. Hence, this research suggests by analogy that the narco-messages and narco-representations disseminated through genres such as reggaeton could potentially have an effect on the thought patterns and behaviour of at least some of its listeners and (in the case of music videos) viewers under certain conditions. These potential effects, however, would still need to be empirically demonstrated in further studies. Hence the discussion here is about potential, rather than proved, effects.

An important feature that makes reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations potentially more likely to influence an individual’s thought patterns and behaviour is the genre’s codes of authenticity, including for instance the notion of street credibility, which the genre adopted from US hip hop. We should bear in mind that these codes of authenticity, which largely regulate the aesthetic parameters of reggaeton music, tend to foster the idea that reggaeton artists (just like hip-hop artists) are representing ‘the real thing’.Footnote 55 That is to say, there is a latent claim that reggaeton music portrays what life is really like in the poor barrios and housing projects in Puerto Rico, and that its singers are as notorious and dangerous as they tend to portray themselves as being through their media image. The common references to actual places in Puerto Rico in reggaeton lyrics and music videos help to reinforce this authenticity claim.

However, rather than depicting ‘the real thing’, reggaeton songs and music videos linked to narcoculture tend to reproduce the stereotypical notions concerning marginalized communities which are normally disseminated through other mass media outlets.Footnote 56 By this I mean that these songs and music videos tend to overemphasize and exaggerate the violence and criminal activity affecting Puerto Rican poor barrios and housing projects. In this way, they essentially reduce life in these communities to these particularities, as if violence and crime were the only distinguishing factors characterizing them. But these representations of life in such Puerto Rican communities help to reinforce negative attitudes already present within Puerto Rican society.

The underlying suggestion that these songs and music videos represent the ‘real thing’ could lead some reggaeton fans to perceive the genre’s dramatic (narco-)depictions of life in Puerto Rican poor barrios and housing projects, portraying the negative stereotypes associated with these communities, to be reliable representations of reality there. This is noteworthy, for studies have shown that, as L. Rowell Huesmann put it, ‘Those viewers who perceive the violence as telling about life more like it really is and who identify more with the perpetrator of the violence are also stimulated more toward violent behaviour in the long run.’Footnote 57 Accordingly, the real-life aura surrounding reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations could potentially promote the idea that some reggaeton fans adopt – to different extents – the values and modes of thinking promoted through the music. In other words, reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations may contribute to the gradual development of specific cognitive scripts strongly linked to narcoculture. Cognitive scripts are ‘blueprints for behaviour and guidelines for deciding’ how to act in a given situation,Footnote 58 and are shaped both by our own experiences in daily life and by media experiences.Footnote 59

As explained in Huesmann’s statement quoted above, the development of these cognitive scripts may be supported by the fact that in reggaeton songs and music videos the artists are usually portrayed as being responsible for committing the violent and/or criminal act. Artists are individuals with whom the listener or viewer is likely to identify. In other words, they tend to serve as role models for some of their fans, particularly younger ones. Anthony Pratkanis and Elliot Aronson write in this regard: ‘People learn from the behaviour of those they see and admire on television.’Footnote 60 Identification with the singer on the part of some reggaeton fans could therefore potentially make the narco-messages and narco-representations disseminated through the music more appealing, and hence more likely to influence thought patterns and behaviour.Footnote 61

The normative acceptance of violent and criminal behaviour constitutes another potential effect – closely related to that discussed above – that reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations could have on some of its listeners or viewers. Studies have shown that, ‘The more people see aggression presented as a way of resolving conflicts of interests and expressing anger, the more they come to think of it as common and acceptable.’Footnote 62 By the same token, the more people are exposed to criminal and violent behaviour such as drug trafficking and gun violence, the more likely it is that they will come to accept (or at least tolerate) it as a legitimate form of conduct. In this sense, the systematic representation of utterly violent and criminal behaviour in reggaeton songs and music videos could potentially help to normalize (to differing degrees, depending on other variables) such conduct among some of its listeners/viewers. This means not only that some reggaeton fans could come to regard criminal and/or violent behaviour as a justifiable course of action for themselves, but also that they would be more prone to accept it when it is undertaken by others.Footnote 63 Moreno Candil, Burgos Dávila and Valdez Batiz argue similarly when they state that exposure to narcoculture ‘generates psychosocial proximity to the world of drug trafficking; that is, levels of sympathy, understanding, interaction, appropriation, and valorization of the phenomenon’.Footnote 64

The argument is not that the narco-messages and narco-representations disseminated through genres like reggaeton, narcocorridos or hip hop could by themselves alter an individual’s modes of thinking and/or behaviour.Footnote 65 As Huesmann states with regard to the effects of violent media content:

Violent or aggressive actions seldom result from a single cause; rather multiple factors converging over time contribute to such behaviour. Accordingly the influence of the violent mass media is best viewed as one of the many potential factors that influence the risk for violence and aggression. No reputable researcher is suggesting that media violence is the sole cause of violent behavior.Footnote 66

Accordingly, it would be unreasonable (and utterly simplistic) to suggest that merely listening to reggaeton – or any kind of music – could by itself lead somebody to tolerate, much less to commit a criminal and/or violent act. However, it seems to me misguided to take the other extreme and affirm that reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations, with their systematic idealization of gun violence and the drug trade, have no effect on the individual, particularly on those highly exposed to them. The empirical evidence accumulated from studies on the effects of violent media content as well as from persuasion studies and prejudice studies suggests, by analogy, that reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations could in fact influence an individual’s modes of thinking and behaviour to differing degrees when they converge with other developmental, dispositional and social factors.Footnote 67

The consideration of the potential effects of reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations in tandem with other variables seems to me fundamental. We must bear in mind that we do not listen to music in a social vacuum; rather, we consume musical products within a particular social context. Moreover, when we listen to and make sense of music and other artistic expressions, we bring to the process our own life experiences as well as particular biological and psychological dispositions. All of these variables inform in different ways how we interpret and valorize (from an aesthetic as well as an ethical point of view) the music to which we are listening, and research on this topic should reflect this complexity.

In my view, the potential effects of reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations should not be understood (nor investigated) in terms of how they directly influence behaviour. Rather they should be analysed as one of many variables that could potentially influence an individual’s attitudes towards criminal and violent behaviour.Footnote 68 We must bear in mind that all manifestations of narcoculture offer an alternative code of ethics which proposes specific ways of making sense of the world and oneself.Footnote 69 At the same time, this code of ethics regulates particular sets of behaviour common in – though not necessarily exclusive to – the drug trade. For example, gun violence is regarded as acceptable and even praiseworthy conduct under narcoculture’s code of ethics. Hence, questions that further research needs to address are whether, how, to what extent and under which conditions reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations could contribute on a cognitive-affective level to the (re)signification and valorization of criminal and violent behaviour. These are important questions. For as we have seen, the extent to which individuals regard criminal and violent conduct such as drug trafficking and gun violence as legitimate (normalized) influences the extent to which they are willing to tolerate it and even to regard it as a valid course of action for themselves. In fact, criminologists have shown that people who ‘hold beliefs favourable to crime’ are more likely to engage in criminal activities.Footnote 70

Young reggaeton fans from marginalized communities in Puerto Rico – and elsewhere – are arguably at particularly great risk of being strongly influenced by reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations. We must bear in mind that these fans tend to have fewer opportunities to improve their quality of living than do youths from other social milieus. This may potentially make them more susceptible to the idealized version of the drug-trafficking world fomented through some reggaeton songs and music videos. We also need to consider that reggaeton fans from poor barrios and housing projects are generally more directly exposed in their daily lives to Puerto Rican narcoculture. This by itself puts this group at greater risk of being to some extent influenced by the values, modes of thinking and behaviour underlying Puerto Rican narcoculture. Reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations could serve within this context as a harmful reinforcement of certain types of behaviour and modes of thinking already present in their most immediate social environment. Patti Valkenburg and Jessica Taylor Piotrowski write in this regard: ‘Researchers have found that when children or adolescents see things in the media that resemble their everyday lives, they are especially susceptible to media effects (often referred to as a resonance effect).’Footnote 71

This discussion raises a valid question: could poverty and the rest of the immediate social environment not have such a strong impact among individuals growing up in marginalized communities as to render the media messages discussed here altogether irrelevant? It is certainly true that the immediate social environment has a strong influence in shaping the values, modes of thinking and behaviour of an individual.Footnote 72 However, this does not mean that research on media content should be neglected. As we must bear in mind:

Individual behavior is generated by [an] evolved computer [i.e. the human brain], in response to information that it extracts from the internal and external environment […] To understand an individual’s behavior, therefore, you need to know both the information that the person registered and the structure of the programs that generated his or her behavior.Footnote 73

This statement illustrates the significance of taking into consideration as many input variables as possible when studying human behaviour. Only in this way can we understand how different variables may potentially interact with each other under specific conditions.

The mass media constitutes an ever-present element in our modern social environment and moulds in different ways our perceptions of reality as well as our attitudes, values, modes of thinking and behaviour, even if we are not necessarily fully conscious of this process.Footnote 74 Studies concerning violent media content, persuasion studies and prejudice studies, among others, have illustrated this. Edward Schiappa, Peter Gregg and Dean Hewes state:

Because the human brain processes media experiences similarly to how it processes ‘direct experience’, people typically react to televised characters as they would real people. The idea that ‘mediated life’ is equivalent to ‘real life’, at least as far as people’s cognitive and behavioural responses are concerned, is the central claim of what Reeves and Nass call the ‘media equation’. In a media-rich environment, people may come to ‘know’ more people parasocially than directly through interpersonal contact. Few people have direct contact with the President of the United States, but virtually everyone in the world has strong opinions about the person holding that office. Most media users form attitudes and beliefs about many politicians, athletes, journalists, and entertainers with whom their contact has been exclusively through the mass media. In addition to parasocial contact with ‘real’ individuals, people also have parasocial contact with fictional characters. Obviously human beings are capable of making a distinction between a fictional character on a television program and people we know in the real world; however, most of the time while watching television or a movie we do not make the effort to do so.Footnote 75

The ‘media equation effect’ has also been corroborated by studies from the field of cognitive neuroscience,Footnote 76 and is consistent with research from evolutionary psychology.Footnote 77

For our purposes, it is worth pointing out that just as we form attitudes and beliefs about people whom we know only parasocially, we also develop specific attitudes and beliefs about social phenomena (such as war, the drug trade, gun violence) with the help of their representations in the mass media. This includes, naturally, the messages and representations disseminated through popular-music genres such as reggaeton, narcocorridos, hip hop and trap music. To be sure, the extent to which media content linked to narcoculture – as it converges with other variables – could influence an individual’s attitudes towards criminal and violent behaviour is yet to be determined. But given the significance of the mass media in our society and the increasingly common presence of narcoculture within it, research on this topic seems to me not only justifiable, but also necessary.

Lastly, we must consider that media content linked to narcoculture could also make more difficult the envisioning of alternatives to improve socio-economic conditions in marginalized communities. Moreno Candil, Burgos Dávila and Valdez Batiz argue similarly when they state: ‘Prolonged exposure to violent events contributes to their normalization, and even worse, it hinders the conceptualization of alternatives, as this violence becomes a quotidian element of life.’Footnote 78 Accordingly, media content linked to narcoculture hinders – at least to some degree – the contemplation of alternative significations and valorizations of the drug trade which, instead of idealizing it, could potentially engage in a more critical manner with its negative effects.

Reggaeton, narcoculture and academia

As already mentioned, the potential effects of reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations have not yet been studied in detail. For the most part, reggaeton scholars have either ignored this topic or have tended to reduce the issue to a mere manifestation of moral panic.Footnote 79 The reaction to reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations in Puerto Rico – and elsewhereFootnote 80 – has at some points certainly showed evidence of such moral panic. Nevertheless, just because there has been an exaggerated, counterproductive and highly politicized response to this issue does not necessarily mean that the concerns underlying such misguided courses of action were not without merit. In order to assess this, the potential effects of reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations – as well as the overall links of reggaeton to narcoculture – need to be thoroughly investigated.

As we have seen, the prevalent (undifferentiated) scholarly view has been that reggaeton artists are merely ‘telling it like it is’ or, as Raquel Z. Rivera puts it, ‘speaking the voice of marginality’.Footnote 81 As a result of this view, the main focus has been understanding what reggaeton’s representations can tell us about the socio-economic conditions affecting marginalized communities. This is certainly an important subject and should not be neglected. Nevertheless, this does not tell us anything about the potential effects that such narco-messages and narco-representations may have on some reggaeton fans once they are disseminated through the mass media. The reason for this is that these are ultimately two different research topics. The first concerns itself with analysing the relation between the socio-economic conditions in marginalized communities and the messages and representations produced by reggaeton artists. This line of enquiry is related to what Stuart Hall refers to as the encoding level of analysis.Footnote 82 By contrast, the second research topic concerns itself with the possible effects that such messages and representations may have when received by an individual under specific conditions, and this line of enquiry is related rather to the decoding level of analysis.

The prevalent interpretation among reggaeton scholars evidences several deficiencies from an analytical point of view. As we saw, it does not differentiate adequately between the different types of messages and representations disseminated through reggaeton music. Moreover, it essentially takes at face value the latent claim prevalent in the genre that it is supposedly representing ‘the real thing’. As discussed above, this is more than anything a myth intrinsically related to reggaeton’s codes of authenticity.

At a certain level of abstraction we could argue that reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations reflect the socio-economic problems affecting marginalized communities in Puerto Rico. To some extent we could even regard such messages and representations as a critique (and a defiance) of the socio-economic and political inequalities predominant in Puerto Rican society.Footnote 83 Nevertheless, the question remains: how and to what extent can we reconcile the explicit disregard for the rights of other people – starting with the right to live – inherent in these narco-messages and narco-representations with the argument that these same messages and representations constitute a revindication of the rights of a specific group for recognition in society?Footnote 84 This fundamental question has not been thoroughly and critically addressed by reggaeton scholars. And the failure to engage with such an important issue severely undermines the subaltern resistance narrative that has become the norm in reggaeton scholarship.

At the most immediate level, reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations tend more than anything to reproduce the same stereotypes regarding marginalized communities prevailing in Puerto Rican society. The only difference is that in reggaeton music such stereotypical representations are reinterpreted in a ‘positive’ way, at least according to the values underlying Puerto Rican narcoculture.Footnote 85 The reason for this is that these messages and representations are heavily informed by narcoculture’s code of ethics. As such, they tend at the most immediate level to validate narcoculture’s underlying values, modes of thinking and behaviour, regardless of any other possible interpretation that can be given to them.

There seem to be among some scholars certain implicit biases affecting the critical assessment of reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations. Reggaeton’s representations of women have been much more openly criticized.Footnote 86 This raises the question: if the potential effects of reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations should not be of any real concern, why should it matter how women are represented in the genre? After all, that would not have any effect on real life either. But are not these scholars being justifiably critical of reggaeton’s representations of women because they ultimately believe that such representations reinforce negative attitudes and behaviour towards women in society? Why are reggaeton’s links to narcoculture not analysed with the same rigour?

It is worth stressing that the way in which women are usually represented in reggaeton music is intrinsically related to the values underlying Puerto Rican narcoculture. Of course, misogynistic attitudes and behaviour have their own independent history and precede the emergence of Puerto Rican narcoculture. My point is simply that such attitudes and behaviour have important points of intersection with Puerto Rican narcoculture which, for the most part, have been overlooked by feminist reggaeton scholars. This is unfortunate, as feminist theories could be helpful in formulating a better critique of the potential effects of reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations.

I believe that the discrepancies in the way in which reggaeton’s narco-messages and narco-representations have been analysed in relation to the representation of women are at least partially owing to the fact that the former topic has been associated too closely with conservative politics – and concomitantly framed in an utterly simplistic manner. Since these political views are understandably not consistent with these scholars’ views, they tend to disregard the topic altogether. The evidence presented in this article has illustrated that, regardless of the politically biased manner in which this topic has been addressed in public discourses, it should not be disregarded, for there are legitimate reasons to believe that the links between narcoculture and certain popular-music genres such as reggaeton could potentially have detrimental effects in society that we still do not fully comprehend. Only by conducting detailed and interdisciplinary research shall we be able fully to corroborate (or refute) this claim.

Conclusion

In a recent interview with Ángel M. Vera (‘El Guru’), the Puerto Rican reggaeton artist Jory Boy talked about why he did not write maleanteo songs any more. He commented:

You know, I believe in karma, brother, and […] it once happened to me that somebody called me: ‘Yo, Jory, check out this video.’ And I see that in the video they kill someone with my song ‘Bienvenidos a mi mundo’ playing [in the background]. And for me, that told me like […] ‘I am helping these people kill each other.’ I saw it that way. Some people don’t care, but I saw it like that. I said: ‘This is going to bring me bad karma’ […] So I said […]: ‘Fuck it. I am not doing any more […] maleanteo songs. Let’s concentrate on the girls.’Footnote 87

Several important points relating to our topic are raised in Jory Boy’s statement. For instance, the media image portrayed in his song ‘Bienvenidos a mi mundo’ differs from the artist’s true character: he sings that he plays with his life every day owing to his dangerous lifestyle,Footnote 88 but in fact the actual person behind the image shows a genuine concern for the high levels of violence affecting Puerto Rico, and an unwillingness to contribute in any way to that violence. This illustrates the importance in general of establishing a clear differentiation between an artist and their media image.Footnote 89

In this respect it should be noted that many other reggaeton artists (including Daddy Yankee, Don Omar and Ozuna), who at least at some point in their careers have all recorded songs with strong links to narcoculture, have also, in one way or another, helped Puerto Ricans in need.Footnote 90 Similarly, the Puerto Rican singer Nicky Jam, who struggled with drug addiction and alcoholism, and had several run-ins with the law at a younger age, is now promoting a healthy, drug-free lifestyle, as can be seen in his autobiographical series Nicky Jam: El Ganador. Footnote 91 To associate reggaeton artists solely with the links to narcoculture that some of their songs and their media image display would hence be misguided. However, more research needs to be conducted in order to understand better the reasons that motivate so many reggaeton artists to write songs linked to narcoculture and to project a media image that tends to emulate the figure of the drug lord.

With regard to Jory Boy’s statement above, the song ‘Bienvenidos a mi mundo’ seems to have served this unknown killer (or killers) as a musical validation of their violent lifestyle. This is essentially the main function of narcoculture. It legitimizes the world of drug-trafficking organizations by configuring an alternative code of ethics that validates the criminal and violent behaviour of people involved in the drug trade. In this process, it eliminates – or at least drastically reduces – any type of cognitive dissonance (that is, remorse) that these individuals may experience owing to their actions. The unknown murderer here would presumably have killed the other person even if maleanteo songs did not exist. But that is not the point. Rather, the question is: if these messages and representations had a validating and hence encouraging effect under these (extreme) conditions, as this anecdote seemingly suggests, could they not also influence reggaeton fans’ attitudes towards criminal and violent behaviour in other ways as well?

The evidence presented in this article suggests that this may possibly be the case. As we have seen, the extent of that influence seems to depend, however, on its convergence with other developmental, dispositional and social factors in particular ways which are not yet fully understood.Footnote 92 Young reggaeton fans living in marginalized communities with a strong presence of drug-trafficking organizations seem to be at particular risk of being highly influenced by these messages and representations.

The increasing presence of narcoculture in popular-music genres such as reggaeton, narcocorridos, hip hop and trap music needs to be investigated more thoroughly, and interdisciplinary research seems fundamental to understanding this phenomenon in all its complexities. Moreover, it is important to detach this research from the politically biased debate that has surrounded this topic in public discourse and that has seemingly affected its critical assessment in academia.

Footnotes

I would like to thank the peer reviewers for JRMA for their insightful comments and recommendations. Translations are my own except where otherwise stated.

1 Jorge Rodríguez Beruff, ‘“Narcodemocracy” or Anti-Drug Leviathan: Political Consequences of the Drug War in the Puerto Rican High-Intensity Drug-Trafficking Area’, The Political Economy of Drugs in the Caribbean, ed. Ivelaw L. Griffith (New York: St Martin’s Press, 2000), 162–82 (pp. 164–5); Jorge Alan Sánchez Godoy, ‘Procesos de institucionalización de la narcocultura en Sinaloa’, Frontera Norte, 21 (2009), 77–103 (p. 91); Zaire Zenit Dinzey-Flores, ‘Criminalizing Communities of Poor, Dark Women in the Caribbean: The Fight against Crime through Puerto Rico’s Public Housing’, Crime Prevention and Community Safety, 13 (2011), 53–73 (p. 55); Dinzey-Flores, Locked In, Locked Out: Gated Communities in a Puerto Rican City (Philadelphia, PN: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2013), 15.

2 Jorge Rodríguez Beruff, ‘Guerra contra las drogas, militarización y democracia: Políticas y fuerzas de seguridad en Puerto Rico’, Fronteras en conflicto: Guerra contra las drogas, militarización y democracia en el Caribe, Puerto Rico y Vieques, ed. Humberto García Muñíz and Jorge Rodríguez Beruff (San Juan: Gráfica Metropolitana, 1999), 51–115 (p. 79); Rodríguez Beruff, ‘“Narcodemocracy” or Anti-Drug Leviathan’, 164–5. In the 1990s, the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) calculated the number of drug-trafficking organizations operating in Puerto Rico as being in the hundreds (see Rodríguez Beruff, ‘“Narcodemocracy” or Anti-Drug Leviathan’, 172).

3 Luis Javier Cintrón-Gutiérrez, ‘Aspectos sociológicos sobre la narco-cultura y los ritos funerarios en Puerto Rico: El caso de la muerte del “Chacal de Llorens Torres”’, Caribbean without Borders: Beyond the Can(n)ons Range, ed. María del Carmen Quintero Aguiló, Gabriel J. Jiménez Fuentes, Marisol Joseph Haynes, Gabriel Mejía González and Diana Ursulin Mopsus (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2015), 112–23 (pp. 112–13).

4 ‘As of June 25, 2015, there were 12,381 people in Puerto Rican state prisons. Of these, approximately 65% came from households with yearly incomes below $20,000.’ Roberto Abadie, Camila Gelpi-Acosta, Carmen Davila, Angelica Rivera, Melissa Welch-Lazoritz and Kirk Dombrowski, ‘“It Ruined my Life”: The Effects of the War on Drugs on People Who Inject Drugs (PWID) in Rural Puerto Rico’, International Journal of Drug Policy, 51 (January 2018), 121–7 (p. 122).

5 Rodríguez Beruff, ‘Guerra contra las drogas, militarización y democracia’, 57.

6 I use the term reggaeton here to signify a musical movement that crystallized in Puerto Rico in the early 1990s. Some of the songs discussed in this article – including the main case study – could technically be considered hip hop or trap songs. Reggaeton singers have always employed a range of rhythms in their music in addition to the dembow with which the genre has been most commonly associated. See Wayne Marshall, Deborah Pacini Hernandez and Raquel Z. Rivera, ‘Introduction: Reggaeton’s Socio-Sonic Circuitry’, Reggaeton, ed. Rivera, Marshall and Pacini Hernandez (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2009), 1–16. And I use the term ‘barrios’ also to refer to low-income urbanizaciones such as Parque Ecuestre (in Carolina), which have been important in the development of the genre.

7 Jaime Torres Torres, ‘Ojo crítico al ritmo del reggaetón’, El nuevo día, 10 October 2004, 4.

8 It should be noted that N.O.R.E.’s father was Puerto Rican (and his mother African American). The rapper’s Puerto Rican heritage was an important motivating factor for the recording of ‘Oye mi canto’. In an interview for MTV’s My Block, N.O.R.E. stated: ‘It’s important for me for being who I am … Forget being N.O.R.E. … This is a part of me. Like I said, I’m black-puertorriqueño, I’m proud to be both.’ My Block: Puerto Rico, documentary directed by Ritesh Gupta and Sean Lee (MTV, 2006). ‘Oye mi canto’ also features Nina Sky, Gem Star and Big Nato.

9 Leila Cobo, ‘Radio Finally Ready for Reggaetón’, Billboard, 6 November 2004, <https://worldradiohistory.com/hd2/IDX-Business/Music/Billboard-Index/IDX/2004/2004-11-06-Billboard-Page-0031.pdf> (accessed 26 October 2021).

10 Spencer Kornhaber, ‘“Despacito” and the Revenge of Reggaeton’, The Atlantic, 20 March 2017, <https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2017/05/despacito/527403/> (accessed 26 October 2021).

11 Jessica Roiz, ‘Luis Fonsi Breaks Seven Guinness World Records Titles Thanks to “Despacito”’, Billboard, 17 October 2018, <https://www.billboard.com/articles/columns/latin/8480426/luis-fonsi-despacito-breaks-guinness-world-records> (accessed 8 October 2021).

12 Keith Caulfield, ‘Bad Bunny Makes Latin History on Billboard Charts with New Album “YHLQMDLG”’, Billboard, 8 March 2020, <https://www.billboard.com/articles/business/chart-beat/9330437/bad-bunny-latin-history-billboard-charts-yhlqmdlg> (accessed 8 October 2021).

13 This was not, however, the only term employed to refer to the genre in the early stages of its development. See Marshall, Pacini Hernandez and Rivera, ‘Introduction’, Reggaeton, ed. Rivera et al., 4.

14 Marisol Lebrón, Policing Life and Death: Race, Violence, and Resistance in Puerto Rico (Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2019), 85.

15 Raquel Z. Rivera, ‘Policing Morality, Mano dura Stylee: The Case of Underground Rap and Reggae in Puerto Rico in the Mid-1990s’, Reggaeton, ed. Rivera et al., 111–34. The attempt to prohibit reggaeton music needs to be understood within the context of the policy known as mano dura contra el crimen established by the Puerto Rican government around the same time. See also Fronteras en conflicto, ed. García Muñíz and Rodríguez Beruff; Dinzey-Flores, ‘Criminalizing Communities of Poor, Dark Women in the Caribbean’; and Lebrón, Policing Life and Death.

16 Germán Palacio, Globalizaciones, estado y narcotráfico (Santafé de Bogotá: Universidad Nacional de Colombia, Facultad de Derecho, Ciencias Políticas y Sociales; UNIJUS; Instituto para el Desarrollo de la Democracia ‘Luis Carlos Galán’, 1998). See also Danilo Santos, Ainhoa Montserrat Vásquez Mejías and Ingrid Urgelles, ‘Introducción: Lo narco como modelo cultural: Una apropiación transcontinental’, Mitologías hoy, 14 (2016), 9–23 (p. 9).

17 Ben Pengalese, ‘The Bastard Child of the Dictatorship: The Comando Vermelho and the Birth of “Narco-Culture” in Rio de Janeiro’, Luso-Brazilian Review, 45 (2008), 118–45; Rodrigo Ganter Solis, ‘Narcocultura y signos de transfronterización en Santiago de Chile’, Mitologías hoy, 14 (2016), 287–302.

18 Iván Chaar López, ‘Una mirada fugaz a la narcocultura en Puerto Rico’, 80 grados, 13 October 2010, <http://www.80grados.net/una-mirada-a-la-narcocultura-en-puerto-rico/>; Chaar López, ‘Ética y participación en la narcocultura de Puerto Rico’, 80 grados, 12 November 2010, <http://www.80grados.net/etica-y-participacion-en-la-narcocultura-de-puerto-rico/>; Chaar López, ‘Imágenes de la narcocultura en Puerto Rico’, 80 grados, 10 December 2010 <http://www.80grados.net/imagenes-de-la-narcocultura-en-puerto-rico/> (all accessed 8 October 2021).

19 Rafael Ponce-Cordero, ‘Reguetón, narcocultura y bandidaje social en el filme puertorriqueño “Talento de barrio”’, Mitologías hoy, 14 (2016), 135–49.

20 Ana Rosa Thillet, ‘La representación de la marginalidad por parte de la industria del reggaetón en Puerto Rico’ (MA thesis, University of Havana, 2006); Luz Adriana Pérez, ‘Reggaetón: Manifestación artística de los marginados’ (MA thesis, University of Texas at San Antonio, 2008); Jennifer Domino Rudolph, ‘Pidieron Cacao: Latinidad and Black Identity in the Reggaeton of Don Omar’, CENTRO: Journal of the Center for Puerto Rican Studies, 23 (2011), 31–53.

21 It should be noted that some narcoculture scholars do not categorize this phenomenon as a subculture. David Moreno Candil, César Jesús Burgos Dávila and Jairo Eli Valdez Batiz write with respect to this: ‘En la actualidad, es imposible hablar de narcocultura en términos de “subcultura”, porque no es un fenómeno propio ni exclusivo del grupo social de los narcotraficantes’ (‘Currently, it is impossible to talk about narcoculture in terms of a “subculture”, as it is not a phenomenon that relates exclusively to people involved in drug trafficking’). Moreno Candil, Burgos Dávila and Valdez Batiz, ‘Daño social y cultura del narcotráfico en México: Estudio de representaciones sociales en Sinaloa y Michoacán’, Mitologías hoy, 14 (2016), 249–69 (p. 255).

22 This is a revised version of a definition of ‘narcoculture’ that I provided in a previous study: Omar Ruiz Vega, ‘Representando al caserío: Narcocultura y el diario vivir en videos musicales de reggaetón’, Latin American Music Review, 39/2 (autumn/winter 2018), 229–65 (p. 231).

23 Pengalese, ‘The Bastard Child of the Dictatorship’, 138; Sánchez Godoy, ‘Procesos de institucionalización de la narcocultura en Sinaloa’, 94; Anajilda Mondaca-Cota, ‘Narcocorridos, ciudad y vida cotidiana: Espacios de expresión de la narcocultura en Culiacán, Sinaloa, México’ (Ph.D. dissertation, Universidad Jesuita de Guadalajara, 2012), <http://ccdoc.iteso.mx//cat.aspx?cmn=browse&id=6208> (accessed 8 October 2021), 54–5; Moreno Candil, Burgos Dávila and Valdez Batiz, ‘Daño social y cultura del narcotráfico en México’, 255–6.

24 ‘La pintura azul no tapa el recuerdo de Coquito’, Primera hora, 12 May 2010, <http://www.primerahora.com/noticias/policia-tribunales/nota/lapinturaazulnotapaelrecuerdodecoquito-386647/> (accessed 18 October 2021).

25 Ibid.

26 Pengalese, ‘The Bastard Child of the Dictatorship’, 124.

27 Moreno Candil, Burgos Dávila and Valdez Batiz, ‘Daño social y cultura del narcotráfico en México’, 251.

28 Jaffe, Rivke, ‘The Popular Culture of Illegality: Crime and the Politics of Aesthetics in Urban Jamaica’, Anthropological Quarterly, 85 (2012), 79–102 (p. 85).

29 Robert Agnew, ‘Strain, Economic Status, and Crime’, The Handbook of Criminological Theory, ed. Alex R. Piquero (Malden, MA: John Wiley & Sons, 2016), 209–29. See also the documentary series The Business of Drugs (Netflix, 2020).

30 Thillet, ‘La representación de la marginalidad por parte de la industria del reggaetón en Puerto Rico’, 16; Rivera-Rideau, Petra R., Remixing Reggaetón: The Cultural Politics of Race in Puerto Rico (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2015), 49.

31 Zaire Zenit Dinzey-Flores, ‘De la disco al caserío: Urban Spatial Aesthetics and Policy to the Beat of Reggaeton’, CENTRO: Journal of the Center for Puerto Rican Studies, 20 (2008), 34–69 (p. 48).

32 Lebrón, Policing Life and Death, 110.

33 These songs also tend to portray a more complex and thus more realistic representation of these communities than maleanteo songs.

34 The original version of this song was part of the soundtrack of the film Talento de barrio. The timings I present below relate to the version of the video found at <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>.

35 For a more detailed analysis regarding the representations of narcoculture in reggaeton music videos between 2006 and 2016, see my previous article, ‘Representando al caserío’. To my knowledge, there are no studies that discuss the representations of narcoculture in reggaeton music during the 1990s. Nevertheless, on the basis of my research, the representations of narcoculture have remained very similar throughout the genre’s history.

36 ‘No toleramos listerías, si eres chota en la boca, si eres comelón en la barriga.’

37 ‘Se toman como un símbolo de poder, quien traiga consigo un arma tiene el poder de imponer su voluntad a los otros.’ Moreno Candil, Burgos Dávila and Valdez Batiz, ‘Daño social y cultura del narcotráfico en México’, 260. See also Mondaca-Cota, ‘Narcocorridos, ciudad y vida cotidiana’, 74.

38 ‘Modelos de comportamiento caracterizados por un exacerbado “anhelo de poder”’. Sánchez Godoy, ‘Procesos de institucionalización de la narcocultura en Sinaloa’, 80.

39 Ibid., 96; Günther Maihold and Rosa María Sauter de Maihold, ‘Capos, reinas y santos: La narcocultura en México’, IMex / México Interdisciplinario / Interdisciplinary Mexico, 2 (December 2012), 64–96 (p. 72); Miguel Rojas-Sotelo, ‘Narcoaesthetics in Colombia, Mexico, and the United States: Death Narco, Narco Nations, Border States, Narcochingadazo?’, Latin American Perspectives, 41 (2014), 215–31 (p. 225); Moreno Candil, Burgos Dávila and Valdez Batiz, ‘Daño social y cultura del narcotráfico en México’, 256–7.

40 Liliana Paola Ovalle and Corina Giacomello, ‘La mujer en el “narcomundo”: Construcciones tradicionales y alternativas del sujeto femenino’, Revista de estudios de género: La ventana, 3 (2006), 297–319 (pp. 304–5).

41 ‘En relación al narcotráfico, la vestimenta y la apropiación de accesorios de alto costo son elementos de deseabilidad, de poder y distinción social. También, una forma de legitimación. Para Ovalle “tener el reloj de la mejor marca y el más costoso, andar con la mujer más bonita, ir a los mejores sitios, tener la casa más vistosa, los automóviles más lujosos; son expresiones de la búsqueda de aceptación de los sujetos”. El consumo representa una lucha simbólica con la que se busca “dar una impresión”, “hacer creer” e “inspirar respeto o confianza”. Así, el vestir y el consumo son prácticas sociales en las que se visibiliza el poder económico del mundo del narcotráfico.’ Moreno Candil, Burgos Dávila and Valdez Batiz, ‘Daño social y cultura del narcotráfico en México’, 257. See also María Luisa de la Garza, Pero me gusta lo bueno: Una lectura ética de los corridos que hablan del narcotráfico y de los narcotraficantes (Tuxtla Gutiérrez: UNICACH and Miguel Ángel Porrúa, 2008), 35.

42 Erik K. Watts, ‘An Exploration of Spectacular Consumption: Gangsta Rap as Cultural Commodity’, That’s the Joint! The Hip-Hop Studies Reader, ed. Murray Forman and Mark Anthony Neal (New York: Routledge, 2004), 593–609 (p. 598).

43 Alfredo Nieves Moreno, ‘A Man Lives Here: Reggaeton’s Hypermasculine Resident’, Reggaeton, ed. Rivera et al., 252–79.

44 Pérez, ‘Reggaetón’, 59–61; Domino Rudolph, ‘Pidieron Cacao’, 36–8.

45 Sánchez Godoy, ‘Procesos de institucionalización de la narcocultura en Sinaloa’, 80.

46 ‘Así que estate quieto / Que si te pillo por mi callejón te van a mandar un rafagazo / Estate quieto, Arcángel, “La Maravilla”, protagonista de tu fracaso.’

47 ‘No soy sicario, pero jalo cuando es necesario.’

48 Chaar López, ‘Ética y participación en la narcocultura de Puerto Rico’; Mariana Cobián, ‘Cae la ganga de Los Lobos’, Primera hora, 19 May 2016, <https://www.primerahora.com/noticias/policia-tribunales/notas/cae-la-ganga-de-los-lobos/> (accessed 26 October 2021).

49 John H. McDowell, ‘The Ballad of Narcomexico’, Journal of Folklore Research, 49 (2012), 249–74 (p. 267).

50 ‘Digan, ¿le llenamo e’ boquete la Tacoma? / Y si no se muere ese cabrón va a quedarse en coma.’

51 ‘De la calle soy el cáncer / Las cortas pasan, yo conozco al bouncer / Un fantasmeo y te llenamos de boquete el Lancer.’

52 Carlos Martín, personal communication.

53 The ‘Somos de calle’ remix was filmed in Residencial Villa Kennedy (San Juan), Residencial Jardines de Quintana (San Juan), Barrio La Perla (San Juan), Barrio Tras Talleres (San Juan), Villa Palmeras (San Juan), Residencial Virgilio Dávila (Bayamón) and in some areas of Loíza and Ponce. Ibid.

54 Ruiz Vega, ‘Representando al caserío’.

55 Ibid., 253–4.

56 The term ‘stereotype’ here refers to ‘a cognitive structure that contains our knowledge, beliefs and expectancies about some human social group’. Miles Hewstone, Wolfgang Stroebe and Klaus Jonas, ‘Glossary’, An Introduction to Social Psychology, ed. Hewstone, Stroebe and Jonas, 5th edn (Chichester: BPS Blackwell, 2012), 601–12 (p. 612).

57 L. Rowell Huesmann, ‘The Impact of Electronic Media Violence: Scientific Theory and Research’, Youth Violence and Electronic Media: Similar Behaviors, Different Venues?, ed. Corinne David-Ferdon and Marci Feldman Hertz, special issue, Journal of Adolescent Health, 41/6 (2007), S6–S13 (p. S11).

58 Barbara Krahé, ‘Aggression’, An Introduction to Social Psychology, ed. Hewstone, Stroebe and Jonas, 273–312 (p. 285).

59 Valkenburg, Patti M. and Piotrowski, Jessica Taylor, ‘Media and Violence’, Plugged In: How Media Attract and Affect Youth (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2017), 96–115.

60 Anthony R. Pratkanis and Elliot Aronson, Age of Propaganda: The Everyday Use and Abuse of Persuasion, rev. edn (New York: W. H. Freeman/Owl Books, 2002), 147.

61 Valkenburg and Piotrowski, ‘Media and Violence’, 105, 112.

62 Krahé, ‘Aggression’, 295.

63 Social psychologists refer to this phenomenon as ‘habituation’ or ‘desensitization’. See Krahé, ‘Aggression’, 294–5; Huesmann, ‘The Impact of Electronic Media Violence’, S8; and Valkenburg and Piotrowski, ‘Media and Violence’, 107–8.

64 ‘Genera proximidad psicosocial al narcotráfico; es decir, niveles de simpatía, comprensión, interacción, apropiación y valoraciones sobre el fenómeno’. Moreno Candil, Burgos Dávila and Valdez Batiz, ‘Daño social y cultura del narcotráfico en México’, 251. See also Sánchez Godoy, ‘Procesos de institucionalización de la narcocultura en Sinaloa’, 82, and Ashleigh A. Fugate, ‘Narcocultura: A Threat to Mexican National Security?’ (MA thesis, Naval Postgraduate School, 2012), <https://apps.dtic.mil/sti/pdfs/ADA574223.pdf>, 18.

65 Narcocorridos are a contemporary variant of the traditional Mexican corrido – a type of narrative ballad – whose lyrics tend to extol the world of drug trafficking.

66 Huesmann, ‘The Impact of Electronic Media Violence’, S7.

67 Krahé, ‘Aggression’, 280; Matt DeLisi and Michael G. Vaughn, ‘Correlates of Crime’, The Handbook of Criminological Theory, ed. Alex R. Piquero (Malden, MA: John Wiley & Sons, 2016), 18–36; Valkenburg and Piotrowski, ‘Media and Violence’, 113.

68 For examples of attitudes research, see Richard E. Petty and Russell H. Fazio, Attitudes: Their Structure, Function and Consequences (New York and Hove: Psychology Press, 2008); Alice H. Eagly and Shelly Chaiken, The Psychology of Attitudes (Belmont, CA: Wadsworth Cengage Learning, 2010); and Geoffrey Haddock and Gregory R. Maio, ‘Attitudes’, An Introduction to Social Psychology, ed. Hewstone, Stroebe and Jonas, 171–200. It is important to consider that, ‘Attitudes are one form of knowledge, namely evaluative knowledge and are as such represented in memory. Just as we associate “bread” with “butter” and “doctor” with “nurse”, we can associate “yuck” with “cockroaches”.’ Wolfgang Stroebe, ‘Strategies of Attitude and Behaviour Change’, An Introduction to Social Psychology, ed. Hewstone, Stroebe and Jonas, 201–33 (p. 219). In our case, ‘drug trafficking’ is associated with ‘money, power and social distinction’.

69 This code of ethics certainly displays regional differences. Nevertheless, it contains several core features which are similar across regions, among them the acceptance of utterly violent behaviour (particularly gun violence) and an extreme materialistic mindset.

70 Agnew, ‘Strain, Economic Status, and Crime’, 214.

71 Valkenburg and Piotrowski, ‘Media and Violence’, 113–14. See also George Gerbner, Larry Gross, Michael Morgan and Nancy Signorielli, ‘The “Mainstreaming” of America: Violence Profile no. 11’, Journal of Communication, 30 (1980), 10–29.

72 Anne Campbell, ‘Aggression’, The Handbook of Evolutionary Psychology, ed. David M. Buss (Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, 2005), 628–52 (pp. 642–6); Russell Spears and Nicole Tausch, ‘Prejudice and Intergroup Relations’, An Introduction to Social Psychology, ed. Hewstone, Stroebe and Jonas, 449–98 (p. 456).

73 John Tooby and Leda Cosmides, ‘Conceptual Foundations of Evolutionary Psychology’, The Handbook of Evolutionary Psychology, ed. Buss, 5–67 (p. 17).

74 This relates to what persuasion studies scholars refer to as the ‘peripheral route to persuasion’: ‘This type of persuasion refers to any attitude change mechanism that does not involve systematic processing. The peripheral route thus encompasses cognitive processes such as the use of heuristic decision rules (e.g. “experts can be trusted”), affective processes such as evaluative conditioning and mere exposure, and the use of information about the attitudes held by relevant others.’ Wolfgang Stroebe, ‘Strategies of Attitude and Behaviour Change’, An Introduction to Social Psychology, ed. Hewstone, Stroebe and Jonas, 201–33 (p. 209). See also Pratkanis and Aronson, Age of Propaganda, and Agnew, ‘Strain, Economic Status, and Crime’, 216.

75 Edward Schiappa, Peter B. Gregg and Dean E. Hewes, ‘The Parasocial Contact Hypothesis’, Communication Monographs, 72 (2005), 92–115 (p. 95; emphasis original).

76 ‘Why Do I Need You?’, The Brain with David Eagleman, directed by Glenn Barden, documentary series (PBS, 2015), episode 5, <https://www.amazon.com/gp/video/detail/B016O9YRVI/ref=atv_hm_hom_1_c_iEgOEZ_2_1> (accessed 18 October 2021).

77 For instance, Tooby and Cosmides state: ‘We no longer live in small, face-to-face societies, in seminomadic bands of 20 to 100 people, many of whom were close relatives. Yet, our cognitive programs were designed for that social world.’ Tooby and Cosmides, ‘Conceptual Foundations of Evolutionary Psychology’, 17.

78 ‘La exposición prolongada a eventos violentos contribuye a que éstos se normalicen, y peor aún, que la construcción de alternativas se dificulte, pues esta violencia se vuelve un elemento de la cotidianidad.’ Moreno Candil, Burgos Dávila and Valdez Batiz, ‘Daño social y cultura del narcotráfico en México’, 261. See also Sánchez Godoy, ‘Procesos de institucionalización de la narcocultura en Sinaloa’, 95.

79 Rivera, ‘Policing Morality, Mano dura Stylee’, 118–21; Rivera-Rideau, Remixing Reggaetón, 47, 49.

80 Pérez, ‘Reggaetón’, 7; Philip Samponaro, ‘“Oye mi canto” (“Listen to my Song”): The History and Politics of Reggaetón’, Popular Music and Society, 32 (2009), 489–506 (p. 499).

81 Rivera, ‘Policing Morality, Mano dura Stylee’, 122.

82 Stuart Hall, ‘Kodieren/Dekodieren’, trans. Bettina Suppelt, and ‘Reflektionen über das Kodieren/Dekodieren-Modell: Ein Interview mit Stuart Hall’, trans. Tobias Nagl, Ideologie, Identität, Repräsentation, ed. Juha Koivisto and Andreas Merkens, 3rd edn (Hamburg: Argument Verlag, 2010), 66–80, 81–107.

83 Mark Edberg, ‘The Narcotrafficker in Representation and Practice: A Cultural Persona from the U.S.–Mexican Border’, Ethos, 32 (2004), 257–77 (p. 273); Eithne Quinn, Nuthin’ but a ‘G’ Thang: The Culture and Commerce of Gangsta Rap (New York: Columbia University Press, 2005), 39; Ovalle and Giacomello, ‘La mujer en el “narcomundo”’, 298–9; Miguel Angel Cabañas, ‘El narcocorrido global y las identidades transnacionales’, Revista de estudios hispánicos, 42 (2008), 519–42 (p. 539); Rivera, ‘Policing Morality, Mano dura Stylee’, 121–6; Lebrón, Policing Life and Death, 83–113.

84 Here I am paraphrasing the work of María Luisa de la Garza (Pero me gusta lo bueno, 133). Also insightful in this regard is Honneth, Axel, Kampf um Anerkennung: Zur moralischen Grammatik sozialer Konflikte, 10th edn (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 2018).

85 Ruiz Vega, ‘Representando al caserío’, 257.

86 Jillian M. Báez, ‘“En mi imperio”: Competing Discourses of Agency in Ivy Queen’s Reggaetón’, CENTRO: Journal of the Center for Puerto Rican Studies, 18 (2006), 62–81 (p. 75); Nieves Moreno, ‘A Man Lives Here’; Rivera, ‘Policing Morality, Mano dura Stylee’, 128–9; Petra R. Rivera-Rideau, ‘“Tropical Mix” : Afro-Latino Space and Notch’s Reggaetón’, Popular Music and Society, 34 (2011), 221–35 (pp. 228–30); José Gálvez, ‘Machtverhältnisse, Genderasymmetrien und Körperkonfigurationen in Reggaeton’, PopScriptum: Sound, Sex und Sexismus, 12 (2016), <https://www.musikundmedien.hu-berlin.de/de/musikwissenschaft/pop/popscriptum-1/sound-sex-und-sexismus/12-sound-sex-und-sexismus> (accessed 26 October 2021).

87 ‘Acho yo creo en el karma, brother, y […] me pasó de que una vez me llaman: “Acho, Jory, ve este video.” Y yo veo que matan a un tipo con la canción mía puesta, con “Bienvenidos a mi mundo”. Y para mí, eso me dijo como que […] “Yo estoy ayudando a esta gente a matarse.” Yo lo vi así. Hay gente que no le importa, pero yo lo vi así. Yo dije: “esto me va a traer un karma malo” […] Pues yo dije […]: “Pal carajo. No voy a hacer más […] maleanteo. Vámonos con las nenas.”’ Rapetón, ‘Por esta razón @joryboyofficial ya no hace maleanteo’, interview with Ángel M. Vera ‘El Guru’, 25 January 2020, <https://www.instagram.com/tv/B7wKVauDhu9/?igshid=avnzujffaam2> (accessed 20 October 2021).

88 Specifically, he sings: ‘Aquí en la esquina, donde día a día juego con mi vida’.

89 Stephen Lowry and Helmut Korte, Der Filmstar: Brigitte Bardot, James Dean, Götz George, Heinz Rühmann, Romy Schneider, Hanna Schygulla und neuere Stars (Stuttgart: Metzler, 2000), 13; Jessica Evans, ‘Celebrity, Media and History’, Understanding Media: Inside Celebrity, ed. Jessica Evans and David Hesmondhalgh (Maidenhead: Open University Press, 2005), 11–56 (p. 19); Richard Dyer, ‘Stars as Images’, The Celebrity Culture Reader, ed. David P. Marshall (New York: Routledge, 2006), 153–76; Silke Borgstedt, Der Musik-Star: Vergleichende Imageanalysen von Alfred Brendel, Stefanie Hertel und Robbie Williams (Bielefeld: Transcript, 2007), 53–64; Omar Ruiz Vega, Musik–Kolonialismus–Identität: José Figueroa Sanabia und die puerto-ricanische Gesellschaft 1925–1952, Musik und Klangkultur, 9 (Bielefeld: Transcript, 2015), 35–7.

90 Gupta and Lee, Puerto Rico; Dinzey-Flores, ‘De la disco al caserío’, 60–1.

91 Nicky Jam: El Ganador, directed by Jessy Terrero (streaming series, Netflix, 2018).

92 Valkenburg and Piotrowski, ‘Media and Violence’, 114–15.

Figure 0

Figure 1Daddy Yankee simulating holding a gun in his hand. Note also the ostentatious jewellery or ‘bling bling’. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 0' 49".

Figure 1

Figure 2Young male covering his face with a handkerchief with a skull motif and ‘throwing up’ gang signs. Detail of still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 4' 45".

Figure 2

Figure 3Young males ‘throwing up’ gang signs. Note also that they are all wearing the same colours, another reference to gang affiliation. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 4' 45".

Figure 3

Figure 4Man talking into a walkie-talkie, a device commonly used in drug trafficking. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 2' 03".

Figure 4

Figure 5Man counting money in a corner of a barrio. Given the context, the scene seems to allude to the money that can be made through drug trafficking. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 1' 20".

Figure 5

Figure 6Cosculluela throwing a big stack of dollars to the camera. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 4' 36".

Figure 6

Figure 7Man being surprised by an assassin or gatillero (Julio Voltio) in a corner of the barrio. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 2' 24".

Figure 7

Figure 8Julio Voltio hiding the clothes he used during the murder scene (subtly) depicted in the music video. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 2' 46".

Figure 8

Figure 9Children riding their bicycles in Loíza, Puerto Rico. Still from ‘Somos de calle’ (remix), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZg1ty9Og>, at 3' 27".