If there’s one determine in pop music who has perfected the language of feel-good cultural affirmation, it’s J Balvin. For over a decade, the 36-year-old Colombian star has claimed he’s on a mission to “change the notion of Latinos in music,” utilizing his rainbow aesthetics, clean reggaeton textures and radio-ready lure hits as ammunition.
There have been loads of milestones, together with “Mi Gente” and “I Like It”: his chart-crushing collaborations with Willy William and Beyoncé, and Dangerous Bunny and Cardi B. Each tracks have grow to be flash factors for jejune narratives about “booming” Latino cultural representation: a story that flattens variations amongst individuals of distinct races, languages and international locations — and suggests this music is influential solely when the Anglo mainstream is paying consideration.
There was his efficiency at Coachella 2019, when Balvin grew to become the primary reggaeton artist to play the competition’s fundamental stage. There are his cartoonish visuals, leopard-print hairstyles and flowery album covers designed by the Japanese artist Takashi Murakami. And there are his ad-libs — “J Balvin, man,” “Leggo” and “Latino gang!” — signature catchphrases which have grow to be so trite, they’re basically begging for meme-ification.
“Jose,” his sixth studio album, arrives at a second when Balvin has lastly established himself as a world superstar. The report considers what is feasible when a pop idol, particularly one from Latin America, not must show himself.
So, permit J Balvin to reintroduce himself. “Jose,” Balvin’s first identify, is a 24-track behemoth that follows within the vein of different playlists-as-albums — the sort of challenge meant to dominate streaming platforms, just like the current supersized releases from Kanye West and Drake. However the album struggles to actually innovate: “Jose” is an itinerant, unfocused effort that provides an impressionistic stock of the sounds which have established him as a pressure: pop-reggaeton, lure and EDM.
The vast majority of the album (about 13 of its tracks) — like “Bebé Que Bien Te Ves,” “Lo Que Dios Quiera” and “Fantasías” — falls firmly inside the sphere of ultrapolished, creamy popetón. It’s an unimaginative components, and one which Balvin has mastered: mix a lilting dembow beat, a candy-coated melody and lyrics concerning the gushy cleaning soap opera of a dance-floor courtship or a sexual fantasy for optimum streams. Elsewhere, Balvin returns to High 40 lure, one other model he’s identified for: On “Billetes de 100,” that includes the Puerto Rican star Myke Towers, Balvin affords a self-mythologizing reminder that he can truly rap. “In da Getto,” a resort-ready EDM monitor produced by Skrillex, elaborates on one more sound that has helped catapult Balvin to worldwide stardom.
Some songs intention for novelty. The opener, “F40,” is a confident blast of reggaeton bombast that shifts tempos, slowing to an irresistible, carnal crawl. And “Perra,” a collaboration with Tokischa, is an audacious, X-rated enterprise into dembow, a avenue sound born within the barrios of the Dominican Republic that has not too long ago caught the eye of the broader Latin music trade, regardless of its longtime grasp on well-liked music within the Caribbean nation.
It is just within the final third of “Jose” that Balvin takes a real gamble: For what could be the first time in his profession, he will get weak and deeply private. “7 de Mayo,” named for Balvin’s birthday, is a chronicle of his rise from the streets of Medellín to eminence, that includes spoken samples of his mom, Alba, and an awards-show thanks from the reggaeton forefather Daddy Yankee. “In a barrio in the course of Medallo, this one was born/With sweat on my brow/Calluses on my palms,” Balvin reminisces in Spanish. Whereas the intimacy is new for Balvin, the track follows the components of hip-hop origin tales too intently (practically mimicking Jay-Z’s “December 4th”). It seems like Balvin is being pressured to finish a tedious homework task, reasonably than reflecting earnestly on his private hardships.
“Querido Rio,” a smooth guitar ballad devoted to his new child son with echoes of Eric Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven,” equally falls flat. Its shallow lyrics and syrupy supply land with cloying sentimentality: “I don’t simply need to be your father/I additionally need to be your greatest buddy,” Balvin croons in Spanish.
For an artist who paints himself as pathbreaking, “Jose” feels remarkably secure. At this level, Balvin does have the facility to nuke expectations — these of his personal profession trajectory, his imagined group and the genres he operates inside. As an alternative, “Jose” colours contained in the traces, safeguarding Balvin’s reign by reveling within the acquainted.
(Common Music Latino)