(SOUNDBITE OF DUSTY HENDRIX ET AL.'S "DOS MANOS")
FELIX CONTRERAS, HOST:
From NPR Music, this is ALT.LATINO. I'm Felix Contreras.
ANAMARIA SAYRE, HOST:
And I'm Anamaria Sayre. Let the chisme begin.
CONTRERAS: Ana, there is a lot going on in the news lately with Venezuela, and it's very, very emotional. It's very difficult, intense. And, of course, music is playing a big role in what's going on right now.
SAYRE: Felix, the subject came up a few weeks ago when we played a very emotional track from Venezuelan musician Danny Ocean. I talk about him a lot, and he's a part of a really long story of Latin American and Caribbean musicians who use music to vent frustration and even anger at the way their countries have been impacted by politics. This week, we're going to dive a little deeper into Venezuela and some of the music that has reflected that country's intense social and political situation.
CONTRERAS: And to do that, we're bringing on our amazing colleague, Isabella Gomez Sarmiento, who has lived some of that history. Isa, welcome back to ALT.LATINO.
ISABELLA GOMEZ SARMIENTO, BYLINE: Thank you guys for having me.
CONTRERAS: OK, before we get started, why don't you tell us a little bit about your connection to Venezuela?
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: So my entire family is from Venezuela. I was not born there, but I lived there for the first seven years of my life. And I still consider it very much to be my culture and my home.
CONTRERAS: So what Ana and I are going to do are try to provide a social and political timeline, and Isa's going to bring us some music that reflects the feelings and sentiments of Venezuelan society during those eras.
SAYRE: So in the midst of economic crisis in the '80s and '90s, Hugo Chávez rises to power first through an attempted coup in '92, which he actually went to jail for. He was then quickly pardoned and ultimately wins the election for president in '98. During those years between '92 and '98 - postcoup and preelection - people became enamored with the alternative Venezuela he was offering. That's where we're starting our musical time line.
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: OK, so the first song that we're going to talk about is called "Por Estas Calles" by my mom's favorite singer, Yordano. This is a song that came out in the early '90s, and it was also the theme song for a very, very popular telenovela by the same name. And both the song and the TV show really highlighted social inequality in Venezuela during this time.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "POR ESTAS CALLES")
YORDANO: (Singing) Por estas calles, la compasión ya no aparece… Y la piedad hace rato que se fue de viaje… Cuando se iba, la perseguía la policía… Oye, conciencia, mejor te escondes con la paciencia…
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: It's funny because this isn't really a protest song, but it's more so a song that deals with the day-to-day reality of Venezuelan society at this time. The telenovela did that as well. And I think, at the time, it was very unusual - and it still is, like you're saying, Felix - for, like, a pop song and for a mainstream TV show to not paint everything through rose-colored lenses but to be very frank about societal problems, economic inequality and, you know, tension between different classes in the country.
SAYRE: But this frankness, it was so crucial at the time to what ultimately happened with Chávez - right? - like, the rehabilitation of his image that took place during the '90s. It was so key that songs like this laid the groundwork for a struggling Venezuela that he could then offer an alternative to. I mean, it was almost like a fantasy - what he was presenting for the people.
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: Yeah, I think this song really played a role in sort of exacerbating the feeling that the system wasn't working for most people at the time and that there were people that were ready for a change.
SAYRE: And all of this feels pretty consistent. I mean, this is a moment where the people and the political seem to be aligned. Chávez sells a new Venezuela free of poverty with an entirely new political system and wins the vote in '98 by 56%.
CONTRERAS: And Chávez did follow through on his promise to politically reshape Venezuela. A new constitution was drafted and approved by voters in 1999. Then, in 2000, Chávez is reelected by a majority of the electorate. But by the mid-2000s, there are shifts. In 2002, there was an attempted coup against the Chávez government. There were clashes between the pro-government and anti-government groups that resulted in people dying. There was a general strike - lots of stuff going on. What's going on musically at about that time, Isa?
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: So a song that I and, I think, a lot of people of my generation really associate with this time period is a song that had actually come out years earlier. And it was a song that the artist Carlos Baute says he didn't really write in a political context, but it's called "Yo Me Quedo En Venezuela." And it has this really pro-Venezuela message. It's not pro-government. It's not anti-government. It's about wanting to stay in the country and wanting to see the country have a brighter future.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "YO ME QUEDO EN VENEZUELA")
CARLOS BAUTE: (Singing) No hay mal que dure mil años, ni cuerpo que lo resista… Yo me quedo en Venezuela, porque yo soy optimista… Hay quienes dicen que el pueblo está cansado de esperar… Si seguimos este rumbo, ¿a dónde vamos a parar?… Pero si sacas la cuenta, lo que podemos ganar… Una cosecha de campo, un paraíso tropical… No me importan los colores, ni la magia electoral… Con todo y eso me quedo, este es mi país natal…
CONTRERAS: You know, this is something that we've talked about on this show a lot, Ana - about how, in the midst of turmoil or strife or difficult things going on in particular countries or cultures, the music is often upbeat, right? And in this one, it wasn't written for a particular thing in mind, but there's a lot of stuff going on there. It's almost got, like, a salsa base to it, which was very popular in Venezuela at that time. There are acoustic instruments that give it a folkloric feel. And there's a chorus, like, a community chorus - lots of stuff going on musically.
SAYRE: And you can feel a shift in the energy of the music here - right? - from what we just played. It's still explicit in terms of what it wants from its country, but it's focused on optimism. It's kind of delivering an image of a different, lighter Venezuela. It acknowledges the hard parts, but it feels very bright.
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: Yeah, I think it's interesting because this is a time period where - you know, it's nowhere near what we see much later on in terms of people leaving the country. But I think this song sort of resurfaces at this time because, following the coup, following that wave of protest around that time and the general strike, there start to be inklings of people who think maybe it's a good idea to leave.
And this is a song that I think can be applied to multiple political sides, but the message is one of unity and one of saying, we love our country, and we're going to stay to fight for it. So it definitely is - you can see people sort of reaching for that joy and reaching for that, like, happiness as their way to get through this confusing, chaotic moment in the country's history.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "YO ME QUEDO EN VENEZUELA")
BAUTE: (Singing) Yo me quedo en Venezuela… Venezuela…
CONTRERAS: And in a way, they're creating this imaginary Venezuela, an imaginary society, which is very much - is what happened in different countries. You know, Celia Cruz was here in the United States. She was not allowed to go back to Cuba, but she sang about a Cuba that so many people here in the United States dreamed of - an imaginary Cuba, the Cuba of their memories. So this seems to be happening here.
SAYRE: But it's also not accidental, Felix, because, at this time, there's a consolidation of Chávez's power that's happening, and mainstream protest music decreases noticeably. What also happens is the crackdown on explicit protest music is more extreme - maybe not extreme in the sense of the government actually getting in and intervening, but in the sense that a lot of this music can't actually get radio play.
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: Right. So in 2007, the government refuses to renew the broadcast license for RCTV, which was the oldest privately owned TV channel in Venezuela at the time. By 2013, the last TV channel that was showing oppositional content - antigovernment content - is sold, so there's a real feeling that it's difficult for people to be critical of the government on TV and on the radio during this time period.
SAYRE: In fact, according to news sources, on July 31, 2009, the government actually revoked licenses of 34 radio stations and refused to renew others. And censorship continued to go up. Fast-forward to the 2010s, and things are becoming more challenging for people who have stayed. Public opinion is shifting, and it's getting generally more negative towards Chávez. And based on my own listening and conversations I've had with musicians from Venezuela, you can tell the music is getting more overtly frustrated despite this rise in censorship. There's a major social shift that allows for this to happen. It's the introduction of social media.
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: So at this time, I think one of the most important musicians that we see really rise in Venezuela and in Latin America is the rapper Canserbero. He's sort of part of an underground scene that starts to really pick up steam. He's working within influences of reggaeton, influences of hip-hop and rock music. And he's really frank with the way he discusses the everyday reality of Venezuelan society. He talks very openly about police violence. He talks about corruption. He talks about violence on the street.
And he himself had suffered tragedies in his life. He had lost his mom. He had lost a half-sibling. And you can really feel that inform his music. He talks about God. I mean, it's, like, really gritty, sort of dark, hard-core rap that Canserbero and people of that scene are promoting at this time. This is his song, "Es Épico," which was released in 2012.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "ES ÉPICO")
CANSERBERO: (Rapping) Oh, (oh)... Me falta el aire, (me falta el aire)… Y el corazón, tucum, tucum, tucum… Hoy (hoy), va a correr sangre (va a correr sangre)… Ya sé por dónde se mueve ese bum… Hoy, voy a convertirme en un criminal, ya no creo en nadie. A menos que me convierta en un muerto. Hoy, voy a vengar a mi hermano, como le juré a mi padre. Diente por diente, ojo por ojo es esto. Una bicha prestada, porque no soy hampa. Pero la rabia que siento no escampa, es tanta que me ahoga. Nunca había olido droga, pero ahora es necesario, pa' cumplir con lo que el corazón me implora…
CONTRERAS: This is very, very powerful and personal music. And I'm sure it had a huge impact on people in Venezuela and outside of Venezuela. But what about the rest of Latin America? How was this song received in other countries, in other cultures?
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: Yeah, so he actually started to gain a lot of popularity throughout Latin America. He begins touring in South America. I think we hear this sort of feeling of nihilism and of a little bit of despair with the state of society that a lot of young people in other countries in South America also relate to at this time. And he starts growing really quickly. At first, Canserbero is - you know, he has a day job to pay for his studio time to record music at night. And pretty soon, you know, he's getting interviewed on TV stations in other countries. He's touring internationally.
And, you know, the really sad thing about Canserbero and the reason he's so difficult to talk about is he dies in 2015. At first, his death is ruled a suicide. There are lots of questions, lots of conspiracies around the conditions of his death. It is not solved to everyone's satisfaction. Last year, the case was reopened, and it was deemed a murder. His ex-manager came forward in a confessional video talking about murdering him.
But during this time, Canserbero is sort of - he sort of becomes the poster child of hip-hop rebellion, certainly in Venezuela but I think in all of Latin America. Last year, Rolling Stone named him the No. 1 most influential Spanish-language rapper. So you can see that even though he's only alive and making music for a very short time, the depth of what he's rapping about really reverberates not just in the country but throughout the continent.
SAYRE: What's really significant to me about his music is that we lose an imaginary Venezuela here. And this is, to me, like, a key part of the story - right? - because there's a divergence in the artistry in people who stay, some by choice and some not. But overall, it takes on a very different quality and tone than the music that starts to be created by people who leave the country - who become a part of this diaspora outside of Venezuela.
CONTRERAS: We'll get back to this conversation about Venezuela and music right after this.
SAYRE: OK. So Felix, we just talked about this a couple of weeks ago. Danny Ocean - he's part of this diaspora - these young Venezuelan artists who are making this music. There's all kinds of them, right? You have Rawayana who came and played a Tiny Desk. I caught up with Fofo, and he explained to me that Rawayana was actually born in the context of a political crisis that monopolized all aspects of life in Venezuela. They initially tried to create a space that was free of all these things, but they felt it was actually impossible because it was so inherent to who they are as Venezuelans - that the political, the social, their feelings around it - it became a part of the music.
CONTRERAS: And it goes back to conversations I had with members of the band Los Amigos Invisibles, who are also from Venezuela. And earlier, in the span of ALT.LATINO, we talked to the members of that band and how they initially were playing music to kind of create a space for people to have a safe place to go to. But then eventually, I spoke to him down the road, and he - there was too much going on, and the band had to reflect what was going on in the country at the time. So they are also part of this sweeping panorama of bands who are using the music to reflect all the very real things that are going on.
SAYRE: But the reflection there, it is a little bit different than what we see from an artist like Canserbero because Canserbero - it's deep. It's heavy. It's dark. It's direct. And this music - it's painful, but it's different. And I think the best example of that is probably, in recent years, one of the most popular songs to come out of Venezuela - "Me Rehúso" by Danny Ocean.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "ME REHÚSO")
DANNY OCEAN: Para todos aquellos amores que… que fueron obligados a ser separados… (Singing) Ba-ba-babylon girl… Ba-ba-babylon girl…
SAYRE: He actually dedicates the song in the beginning to all those loves who are forced to be separated.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "ME REHÚSO")
OCEAN: Esta canción es para ti… (Singing) Dime cómo le explico a mi destino que ya no estás ahí... Dime cómo haré para desprenderme de este frenesí... Esta locura que siento por ti… Con esta química que haces en mí… Y ya no puedo, girl… Ya no puedo, girl…
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: So Danny Ocean writes this song, and it really explodes in 2017. I mean, on the surface, it's a very personal song about, like, not wanting to break up with someone that you love, which is obviously something many, many people can relate to. It's obviously why it gets played at clubs around Latin America and around the world. But this song exists in the context of something pretty tragic that is happening in the country at the same time. The economy has really suffered. There's a lot of scarcity. We have a wave of people leaving Venezuela, looking to start a better life somewhere else. There are more protests. Opposition leader Leopoldo López is jailed.
Overall, there's a lot of turmoil happening once again at this time. And this is a song that, even though it was so personal, it is really grounded in the context of everything that is happening in the country when Danny writes it and when Danny, like so many other people, is forced to leave the country that he calls home.
SAYRE: That is what is so powerful about this music that these younger artists start to create because they're creating from this perspective of always being on the outside looking in. So instead of writing from the day-to-day experiences of, this is what the government looks like - this is what life looks like - they're always writing from this perspective of longing, of not knowing, of desiring to know a lost love like Venezuela. And I think a huge part of that is making it personal because it's rooted in the feeling.
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: Yeah, I mean, I think musicians at this time are - a lot of them are writing from their own personal experiences. They're writing about their own personal heartbreaks. They're writing about their own personal successes. But it's impossible, I think, for a lot of people to not be somewhat informed by what's happening in the society that they're living in. I think, as this song becomes more and more popular over time, it kind of becomes an anthem for people not wanting to leave Venezuela and the past behind them. So it kind of takes on this bigger meaning of not just being about a person you don't want to leave behind, but a place and a culture. And I think that that is sort of the meaning that the audience gives it over time.
CONTRERAS: I think the music being written right now and performed right now has the same intensely strong connection to metaphor that all the best protest music coming out of Latin America - going back to Víctor Jara in the '60s and '70s, Rubén Blades - stuff he's been writing since the '70s and '80s - it's always about metaphor. It's never direct - this is wrong. This is wrong. They're telling stories. And I think that that's where the power of this music is right now.
SAYRE: Well, and beyond that, Felix - we talk about this a lot - a lot of times, we see feelings around governments or political situations or challenges in a country expressed in Latin America through heartbreak. It's so common that, you know, the government gets framed as the lover who's left them or whatever it might be. And there's an easy way to reduce this, which is to say, like, oh, Latinos know how to write about love or whatever it might be. But I think what we're seeing is actually the expression of a collective trauma that we all kind of carry.
Many of the political situations across Latin America - they devolved to become so confusing and so painful that it becomes hard to even point fingers at who's responsible or who needs to be called out in this music. And so what takes over is the expression of feeling - the pain, the loss, the confusion that many of these artists go through - being separated from family, you know, being lost to what they need or what they can have. And so heartbreak becomes the way to best express that feeling. It's the best tool that people have to showcase what's really deeply, fundamentally challenging about a situation in the country.
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: Yeah, I think you're exactly right, Ana. And, you know, I recently sat down with Danny Ocean to ask him about this because it is really interesting that you have these songs that seem to carry a big political theme but on the face of it are, like, pop songs about love and romance and heartbreak. And, you know, he said that, like, how he thinks about it is that he's writing open-ended, universal songs about his personal experiences but that he thinks that that leaves room for someone in, say, Mexico or someone in Argentina or someone in Spain to take the meaning that they can from that. And he said he almost sees it as, like, a spiritual experience because he says, you know, people adapt this to whatever struggle, whatever fight, whatever challenge they're going through. And then it takes on a meaning of its own. And, like, as an artist, he just has to put it out, you know, in as honest of a way as he can. And then the listener takes it from there.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "ME REHÚSO")
OCEAN: (Singing) Baby, no. Baby, no. Me rehúso a darte un último beso, así que guárdalo (guárdalo)… Para que la próxima vez te lo dé haciéndolo… Haciéndotelo así, así, así… Así como te gusta, baby… Baby, no… Baby, no.
SAYRE: There is a really spiritual element to all of this music, and it really comes to a head for me with a lot of these artists now because they talk about Venezuela, once again, in these dreamlike terms. It makes me think of the term venequia, which Danny Ocean actually named his EP after. Can you explain, Isa? What is venequia? Where does it come from?
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: Yeah, I mean, I think it's kind of a heady concept. But - so the term veneco, veneca has been used in a kind of derogatory way towards Venezuelan migrants in other parts of Latin America. And, you know, when we spoke, Danny said that he wanted to sort of reclaim that word. I think a lot of Venezuelan people in the diaspora are reclaiming that word. Although it still, you know, can carry a lot of negative connotation, Danny and a lot of other people of that generation are sort of saying, like, yeah, this is my reality. I'm a Venezuelan person who had to leave my country, and I'm going to own it, you know?
So venequia - he sort of explained - and a lot of people believe in this idea - that it's sort of the imaginary place where the Venezuelan diaspora that has had to leave exists. And it is their idealized version of the country, the food, the music - you know, the sort of golden Venezuela that we like to think once existed and could exist again. I think any immigrant identifies with this sort of, like, not-from-here, not-from-there, limbo identity crisis. And what he's done is sort of given that a name and a place and a home with a soundtrack that people can sort of get in their feels to, essentially.
SAYRE: I think that also really legitimizes, Isa, some of what is happening here, which is an expression from people outside of the country who do want to speak to - and say they have a right to speak to the pain of what's being experienced in the country.
I mean, I spoke with Apache before we got on here. He's a rapper who's a part of the scene living outside of the country but from Venezuela. And he actually made a lot of his music in the early days with Canserbero. And he literally said to me, my beloved land lives in me wherever I am, and I'm affected by what happens in my country regardless of the distance.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "ROMPIENDO EL HIELO")
APACHE: (Rapping) Rimando lo mismo, con lo mismo, to' el tiempo lo mismo… ¿Por qué no echa a un lado el ego y deja…?
SAYRE: This is "Rompiendo El Hielo" from Apache.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "ROMPIENDO EL HIELO")
APACHE: (Rapping) Preocúpese por su carrera… Ya deje al otro trabajar, camellar o chambear a su manera… No te estés cerrando puertas ni colocando barreras, que a veces la ayuda te la da el que menos tú esperas… Mucha precaución, deje la soñadera… Mire que la situación en el país está muy bandera… Si no te funciona esa estrategia busca otra manera, en vez de estar perdiendo el tiempo con tanta criticadera… Mira, mera…
CONTRERAS: We covered a lot of ground today, Isa and Ana.
SAYRE: I'm really going to need to sit back and think about this one.
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: That was a lot.
SAYRE: But really, the whole time I was preparing for this - I mean, there's a lot of intensity of emotion. I kept getting chills listening to this music. I mean, it's so powerful and soulful and just - all of the feelings are out there in the music.
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: Yeah. And, you know, as we're following the news of what's happening in Venezuela after the election - there's more protests, there's more violence - and I think it can be really hard to understand that. And this context of music and of how artists are reacting to what's happening in the country now but also how they've been doing it for decades is really important.
CONTRERAS: Isabella Gomez Sarmiento is a producer on NPR News' cultural (ph) desk. She's also a friend of ALT.LATINO. Isa, thank you so much for coming in and providing this musical context.
GOMEZ SARMIENTO: Thank you both.
CONTRERAS: You have been listening to ALT.LATINO from NPR Music. The woman who helps us keep things moving smoothly is Grace Chung.
SAYRE: We had editorial support on this episode from Hazel Cills, and our audio producer is Taylor Haney.
CONTRERAS: Suraya Mohamed is the executive producer of NPR Music. Special thanks this week for editorial support from Zach Thompson, Tony Cavin and Didi Schanche.
SAYRE: And Keith Jenkins is the VP of music and visuals.
CONTRERAS: I'm Felix Contreras.
SAYRE: I'm Anamaria Sayre.
CONTRERAS: Thank you so much for listening.
(SOUNDBITE OF APACHE SONG, "ROMPIENDO EL HIELO")
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