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      Grammy Surprises: boygenius Thrives, Country and Rap Wither

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      A look at the Grammys’ most unexpected and interesting story lines, including Olivia Rodrigo’s intergenerational rock battle with the Rolling Stones.Young women from across genres — along with the Recording Academy’s favorite polymath spoiler Jon Batiste — reigned atop the nominations on Friday for the 66th annual Grammy Awards, to be held Feb. 4 in Los Angeles.But beyond familiar names like Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo and Billie Eilish, this year’s class of nominees reveals a strong surge for R&B (SZA, Victoria Monét, Coco Jones, Janelle Monáe); a tough showing for country, rap and Latin music, especially in the top categories; and the enduring love for soundtracks historically felt in Grammyland.But who got left out, who represents a welcome surprise and what, as ever, are the Grammys thinking? The New York Times’s pop music team — editor Caryn Ganz, reporter Joe Coscarelli, chief pop music critic Jon Pareles and pop music critic Jon Caramanica — pored over the complete list, including some deeper, oft-ignored categories, to break down the most interesting story lines, snubs and surprises.Boygenius makes the big leagues.The indie-rock supergroup made up of the singers and songwriters Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus was once a side project, an inside joke, a fun way to promote a tour of solo acts. Not anymore. Having released its debut album, “The Record,” earlier this year on the major label Interscope — and having sold 67,000 albums in its first week, landing in the Billboard Top 5 — boygenius may very well be the biggest new rock band working, with all the arena shows, promotional savvy and celebrity worship that entails. Recognized in best rock performance, best rock song, best alternative performance, best alternative album, best engineered album and — most notably — album of the year, boygenius is among the most nominated acts with six overall, the same number as Taylor Swift. Not bad company in 2023. JOE COSCARELLIWhere’s country music?By any measure, it has been a banner 12 months for country music on the pop charts — Morgan Wallen’s “One Thing at a Time” has spent 16 nonconsecutive weeks atop the Billboard 200, and in August, for the first time in the history of the Billboard Hot 100, the top three positions were occupied by country songs. And yet none of the artists behind those songs — Wallen, Luke Combs and Jason Aldean — were nominated in any of the Grammys’ big three all-genre categories. Neither was Zach Bryan, the genre’s leading dissident, nor Oliver Anthony, who had the year’s most unlikely No. 1 hit.The shutout of the men of country may be indicative of the political shift, explicit and implicit, shaping the genre’s most prominent figures. Wallen, who remains under the long shadow of the 2021 revelation that he was captured on tape using a racial epithet, is still the most popular performer in the genre; he received no nominations this year (though his song “Last Night” is up for best country song, a prize for songwriters). With Aldean, the politics are more literal. His vigilante-justice hit, “Try That in a Small Town,” made overt a partisan perspective that often resides just beneath the surface in Nashville. As for Anthony’s “Rich Men North of Richmond,” a workingman lament that baffled both the left and the right, its direct engagement with class politics perhaps made it too hot to the touch for Grammy voters (if, indeed, Anthony even submitted it for consideration).If there were one song with the best chance of bridging contemporary country to the Grammys, it would be Combs’s cover of Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car,” which went to No. 2 on the Hot 100 and earlier this week won song of the year at the CMA Awards, making Chapman the first Black winner in that category. But in part because of Grammy rules — it isn’t eligible for song of the year because Chapman was nominated for her original in 1989 — Combs’s version has been relegated to just a single nomination, in best country solo performance, a snub that feels unexpectedly pointed. JON CARAMANICA‘Barbie’ at the Grammys? Yes, she Ken.If it felt this year that pop music was more slippery than ever, subject to the whims of streaming algorithms and TikTok trends, it’s perhaps unsurprising that the Grammys chose to reward songs that came via a particularly old-fashioned delivery mechanism: the film soundtrack.Songs from the Greta Gerwig film “Barbie” — a canny collection of contemporary pop hitmakers finding creative ways to wrestle with the film’s themes — are everywhere in this year’s nominations. Billie Eilish’s familiarly melancholy “What Was I Made For?” is up for record and song of the year, and Dua Lipa’s “Dance the Night” is also nominated for song of the year. “Barbie World” by Nicki Minaj and Ice Spice will compete for best rap song. Tracks from the soundtrack also hog up four of the five available slots in best song written for visual media. CARAMANICAEmerging Latin stars get left behind.After a year in which Latin music continued to explode on streaming services and forge all sorts of cross-cultural hybrids, this year’s Grammy nominations are, well, puzzling. Edgar Barrera, the Mexican American songwriter who has collaborated on hit after hit for singers across the Americas, is rightfully a nominee for songwriter of the year. But there’s no best new artist nomination for Peso Pluma, the cutting-voiced Mexican songwriter whose career skyrocketed in 2022 and 2023 — he’s touring arenas this year — and who bridges regional Mexican corridos and Latin trap. Peso Pluma’s 2023 album, “Génesis,” is just tucked among the nominees for música mexicana. Other emerging Mexican-rooted acts that had a blockbuster year — among them Eslabon Armado, Grupo Frontera, Grupo Firme, Christian Nodal and Natanael Cano — go unmentioned.Then there’s the oddity of the música urbana category. Its three — only three — nominees are deserving: the reggaeton producer Tainy, the electronics-loving pop experimenter Rauw Alejandro and the Colombian songwriter Karol G, whose 2023 album, “Mañana Será Bonito,” was the first Spanish-language album by a woman to reach No. 1 on the Billboard 200. But música urbana — encompassing reggaeton, Latin hip-hop, dembow, Latin trap and more — is a crowded, competitive, hugely popular format. The Grammys couldn’t find five nominees? All they had to do was turn on the radio. JON PARELESOlivia Rodrigo takes on … the Rolling Stones.The Grammys’ rock categories are reliable head-scratchers, but best rock song provides an unexpected delight this time: Olivia Rodrigo’s “Ballad of a Homeschooled Girl” goes up against the Rolling Stones’ “Angry,” pitting some of this year’s oldest nominees (average Stones age: 78) against one of the youngest (at 20, Rodrigo is still not old enough to order a celebratory champagne). Rodrigo is the only nominee in the category who isn’t part of a band, but her track has the fewest number of writers: just two, herself and the producer Daniel Nigro. (The other competitors include boygenius, Foo Fighters and Queens of the Stone Age.)“Ballad of a Homeschooled Girl,” with its gleeful pop-punk thrash, is an ode to social awkwardness that draws on ’90s rockers like Veruca Salt; “Angry” is built on a classic Stones riff with plenty of room to breathe — unlike the troubled relationship Mick Jagger describes in its lyrics. Both describe uncomfortable situations; both sound like a load of fun. And it’s nice to see Rodrigo’s latest album, “Guts,” recognized in the rock field, where it belongs. CARYN GANZA powerful Paul Simon LP goes unrewarded.If anyone should have been able to count on respect from the Grammys, it’s Paul Simon. His 2023 album, “Seven Psalms,” plays as a thoughtful, complex, tuneful farewell, anticipating his death. It’s a major statement couched in intimate acoustic arrangements, with the craftsmanship and artistic ambition that awards shows claim to recognize. Simon has won 16 Grammys, dating back to his days with Simon and Garfunkel. But “Seven Psalms” was shut out of high-profile categories like album of the year, and got just one obscure nomination, for best folk album, where Simon competes with the touching comeback (and beloved, familiar songs) of “Joni Mitchell at Newport.” The Grammys used to reward late-career albums by musicians like Steely Dan (“Two Against Nature”), Bob Dylan (“Time Out of Mind”) and Tony Bennett (“MTV Unplugged”). Now, Simon’s knotty confrontation with mortality seems to have gotten stranded between Grammy generations. PARELESRap’s Grammy struggle continues.For the 20th time in a row, a rap release will not win album of the year at the Grammys. That was a safe bet before — only two hip-hop albums have ever won in the biggest category: Lauryn Hill’s “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill” in 1999 and Outkast’s “Speakerboxxx/The Love Below” in 2004 — but it’s assured now because none were even nominated. No rap appears among the nominees in record or song of the year, either. (Childish Gambino’s “This Is America” remains the only rap song to ever win in those categories.) But while past Grammys have brought recriminations about how hip-hop is recognized, this shutout up top comes amid a year of intra-genre soul-searching about a lack of chart impact and a dearth of new stars, especially those invested in the album format.The genre-specific nominations include a mix of familiar names (Drake — despite his history of boycotting submissions — with 21 Savage, plus Nicki Minaj and Nas) and a few artists with something to prove (Killer Mike, Doja Cat, Coi Leray). Yet this may be the first year in some time where a lack of major recognition is met with a resigned sigh. Outside of SZA’s rap-flavored singing, Ice Spice’s nomination for best new artist is the lone bright spot in the biggest categories, driving home another common talking point in rap industry circles of late: Women are the present, and likely the future. COSCARELLIGreetings from traditional pop.Oh, the categories! Who knew that Bruce Springsteen, a lifelong rocker, would someday find himself among the “traditional pop vocal” nominees? I think of it as the slot that was created for singers, like Tony Bennett, who kept reaching back to what was known as the Great American Songbook: pop standards written for vintage Broadway and Hollywood musicals, the sophisticated idiom that was overturned by the simplicity of rock ’n’ roll. But Springsteen’s nominated album, “Only the Strong Survive,” isn’t a standards album. It’s a collection of vintage 1960s soul songs, which somehow do not qualify in the Grammy category of “traditional R&B.” Are the Grammys expanding the Great American Songbook, or just consigning Springsteen to the past? PARELES More

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      Pop Music Hits Finding New Listeners as Mexican Norteñas

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      The EZ Band’s blend of norteña music and Top 40 hits offers some Americans a way to connect with their parents’ culture and exposes others to a new sound.At first, Jaime Guevara’s version of “Hey There Delilah” sounds like just another cover of the Plain White T’s original. But some seconds in, an accordion enters the mix. Then, Guevara shifts his crooning from English to Spanish.“¿Qué tal, Delilah?” he sings, interpreting the lyrics and feeling of the song for a new audience. “Aquí estoy si te sientes sola.”Suddenly, the song that was a hit in the mid- to late aughts has become a norteña, a ballad from a regional Mexican genre that relies heavily on accordions and other acoustic instruments.Guevara, a Houston musician, and his EZ Band have created more than a dozen covers in norteña form, such as “Creep” by Radiohead and “Easy on Me” by Adele — and they’ve taken off.The EZ Band’s rendition of “Hey There Delilah” has been played more than 1.5 million times on Spotify, and at least two million times on TikTok. The band’s version of “Santeria,” originally by Sublime, even drew notice from a fan account. And most recently, the band ventured into Swiftie land with a remake of Blank Space, from the “1989” album by Taylor Swift.“It has kind of changed a lot of my life,” Guevara, 33, said in an interview, referring to the recent rising interest in the EZ Band and its album “Make it Norteño Vol. 1.” (Either norteña or norteño are used to describe artists, songs, music and awards in the genre, because nouns and adjectives have a gender in Spanish; the Grammy Awards, for instance, name a category for Best Norteño Album.)Covers of different genres are not a new concept, of course. There have been Beatles songs made into polka music, and “Hotel California” has gotten the ukulele treatment. But the EZ Band’s songs are growing in popularity at a time when norteña music, and other regional Mexican genres like tumbados, are becoming more popular.These blends of once-Top 40 and norteña music offer first- and second-generation Americans a way to connect with a musical heritage that they don’t always know or may have left behind. It also exposes new audiences in the United States to the unique norteño sound.The sound of norteña music has influences that date back to the 1840s, when Germans began settling in what is now southern Texas, according to Celestino Fernández, a retired sociology professor and consultant for the University of Arizona.“They brought with them their music, and the accordion was a foundational instrument for the waltz and polka,” Dr. Fernández said. “Then the mexicanos, with the 12-string guitar, basically created música norteña.”Mr. Guevara, who is based in Houston, said he grew up listening to both music in English and norteñas played by his family from Mexico. He has mixed the two in his work.Arturo Olmos for The New York TimesThe norteño genre, popular in parts of Mexico and the U.S. Southwest, features accordions and other acoustic instruments.Arturo Olmos for The New York TimesGuevara, who was born in Monterrey, Mexico, said his covers were the product of his background: He grew up listening to norteñas thanks to his father, who Guevara said played music on buses for tips in Mexico. When he moved to Houston with his family, at age 9, he was exposed to new genres of music in a new language. Later, Guevara’s wife, who is from Minnesota, introduced him to more new music from the wide range of American pop.“Me, growing up, it’s the generation that grew up here listening to all the music in English, but also have family that listen to norteño,” Guevara said. “I get a lot of comments where people say, ‘You’re putting my two worlds together.’”For decades, norteña music has mostly been popular in the regions where it originated: northern Mexico, the U.S. Southwest and California. But in recent years, the genre has gained a newfound recognition thanks, in part, to the prominence of other Latino acts like Bad Bunny and Peso Pluma. Both have collaborated with norteña bands.Since Peso Pluma collaborated earlier this year with the regional Mexican band Eslabon Armado on “Ella Baila Sola” (“She Dances Alone”), the song has reached No. 4 on the Hot 100, Billboard’s mainstream pop chart, and it has been played more than 380 million times on YouTube.“I didn’t think it would ever reach the level it has gotten to,” Guevara said of the current interest in norteña music. “It is a little surprising to see it blow up as much as it has.”Dr. Fernández said some of norteña’s rise could be attributed to the growth of the Latino population in the United States.“I think what we’re seeing is there are more and more Mexican immigrants in the United States, particularly the Southwest, and people bring their culture with them,” he said. “Some of them have heard that music when they were kids in their homes, and maybe now they’re reconnecting to it.”Catherine Ragland, a professor of ethnomusicology at University of North Texas, said she had noticed the interest in her own neighborhood. Teens who were once playing rap and reggaeton from their cars, she said, are now blasting regional Mexican music.For immigrants who moved to the United States recently or at a young age, listening to more traditional music can be a way to connect to their culture, Dr. Ragland said.“This is a way to feel more authentically Mexican and really connect with that,” Dr. Ragland said. “The more they go back to these older styles, the more you feel like you’re truly connected to something.”The blend of American music and norteña in the EZ Band’s songs has given first- and second-generation Americans a way to reconnect with their Mexican roots.Arturo Olmos for The New York TimesBut perhaps a more simple explanation for norteña music’s new popularity is that it’s catchy and easy to move to.“Norteña music is dance music,” Dr. Fernández said. “When you have events, people like to dance — and Mexicans and Mexican Americans have a lot of events around.”Across Mexico and parts of the United States, norteña bands are often hired to play at celebrations for baptisms, first communions, weddings and even funerals, Dr. Fernández said. In Houston, the EZ Band has played at bars, parties and, recently, a halftime show at a Major League Soccer match.After discovering the EZ Band on social media, Juan Loya, director of multicultural marketing for the Houston Dynamo, reached out to the band and invited it to perform.Mr. Loya, 45, grew up in Houston and said that the band’s music resonated with him because his parents came from Mexico, and he used to listen to norteña music at parties and other events. Mr. Loya said that he thought the largely Hispanic Dynamo fan base would enjoy it, too.“Hearing it in a different lens or in a different flavor,” Mr. Loya said of the EZ Band’s norteña sound, “it’s definitely really impactful to me, and I think I’m not alone in that.”Adriana Torres, 38, of Maryland, said that she learned about the EZ Band while scrolling through social media, and she was hooked to the sound.“It immediately took me back years,” Ms. Torres said, adding that she grew up listening to norteñas and other Mexican genres.“It really touches people like me who are Mexican Americans, but also everyone,” she said. “It exposes our music in that style.” More

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      María José Llergo’s Songs Have Flamenco Roots. They Raise a Ruckus.

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      This Spanish singer’s debut, “Ultrabelleza,” experiments with a signature genre of her Andalusian homeland, creating an unexpected homage.When the Spanish singer María José Llergo talks about flamenco, it often sounds as though she is describing something springing from beneath her feet. “The genre is rooted in my land,” she said, in a video call from her place just outside Madrid. “It’s in our roots.”Growing up in rural Andalusia, where flamenco was born, Llergo first became interested in music while watching her grandfather work on his farm. “I remember him raking the earth, watering the plants and singing — everything from tangos to boleros,” she said, speaking in Spanish. Life for him wasn’t exactly easy back then. “My grandparents come from very humble — albeit very happy — origins,” said Llergo, surrounded by family portraits. She comes from that world too.Llergo, now 29, has developed a voice and singing style of her own, but she’s intent on keeping regional traditions alive. Infusing electronica and R&B with traditional Andalusian influences — including flamenco snaps and the off-kilter melodies of cante jondo, a guttural singing style common to folk music in the south of Spain — Llergo’s 2020 EP “Sanación” is a testament to the versatility of flamenco as a genre. “Ultrabelleza,” her debut album out Friday, takes this experiment a step further.The record’s lead single, “Rueda, Rueda,” begins with a chant and handclaps before a sprawling pop chorus arrives. On tracks like “Visión y Reflejo,” Llergo even tries her hand at rapping. “María had never done it before,” the Spanish indie singer Zahara, who was one of the album’s main producers, said in a video call. “But she managed to do it in one take when we were recording the song. It was super impressive.”“Flamenco is like the blues,” Llergo said. “The lyrics tell stories of survival.”Jordi Terry for The New York TimesLlergo said she knows she isn’t the first person to traverse genres — and she’s not just talking about the Catalan pop star Rosalía, whose debut album, “El Mal Querer,” is often credited with catapulting flamenco into 21st-century global pop. (Incidentally, she and Llergo both studied at the Escola Superior de Música de Catalunya in Barcelona under the same mentor, José Miguel Vizcay.)“Flamenco has always lent itself to other styles. All you have to do to find proof of that is look back at people like Lola Flores and Camarón,” Llergo said, referring to Camarón de la Isla, the singer often credited as the 20th century’s “god” of flamenco. “It’s always been global.”During the 1970s and ’80s, Camarón de la Isla, a Romani from Cádiz whose stage name is Spanish for “shrimp,” breathed new life into flamenco by adding instruments not traditionally found in the genre, such as the drums and bass guitar, to his recordings. His heartfelt lyrics and acrobatic vocal range would also eventually earn him a reputation as one of the country’s top crooners: In his best-known song, “Como el Água,” he compares the strength of his love for someone to a river running through the sierra.Llergo tends to speak in that language, too, drawing from the rich natural landscapes of southern Spain to tell stories about herself, her hometown and the people in it. “I run through your body like water runs through a river,” she sings in the synth-heavy “Juramento,” in a nod to her predecessor.While “Juramento” and other songs on the record don’t necessarily sound like flamenco, Llergo knows there are different ways artists can pay homage to the genre. Drawing clear demarcations around who or what fits into it isn’t one of them. “It’s flamenco’s ability to mix into other genres that makes it more appealing on a global level,” she said.From the plucky guitar riffs on Madonna’s 1987 hit “La Isla Bonita” to the handclaps, or palmas, on Caroline Polachek’s “Sunset” from earlier this year, there’s a long history of American pop artists’ experimenting with flamenco. As the market becomes friendlier to Spanish-language pop, listeners might find themselves looking for more of the genre.“Folk music in general — take regional Mexican music, for example — is becoming increasingly popular,” said Manuel Jubera, Llergo’s A&R at Sony Music Spain, in a recent phone interview. “So it’s a good moment for flamenco to export itself.” Next year Llergo will bring her music directly to the United States with a show at the Luckman Fine Arts Complex in Los Angeles in March and one at Le Poisson Rouge in New York the following week.Llergo’s music draws from the rich natural landscapes of southern Spain to tell stories about herself, her hometown and the people in it.Jordi Terry for The New York Times“I remember the first time I went to New York, I couldn’t stop crying and taking videos on my phone,” she said. “I still think about the way the sun reflects on the buildings there.” (When she’s on the road, she misses home, though. She beckoned her 1-year-old Chihuahua, Torres, to show him off on camera, but he was nowhere to be found.)When Llergo was in New York, she found herself reflecting on the culture of her homeland. “I thought about Federico García Lorca a lot,” she said, referring to his book, “Poet in New York,” written during a 10-month stint in the city in 1929.Like Llergo, García Lorca came from Andalusia. “And do you know what the street I grew up in in Pozoblanco is called?” she asked, looking straight at the camera, her eyebrows rising. “Federico García Lorca.”These types of connections — including ones between America and Spain — are often on her mind. “Flamenco is like the blues,” she said. It originated in Andalusia’s marginalized Roma communities. “The lyrics tell stories of survival — it’s always been a way for the most oppressed to escape.” Llergo, who said she faced discrimination at school because of her lower-class background, still finds solace in them.Like many people, she also appreciates the communal nature of flamenco, an idea grounded in the concept of el jaleo, roughly “hell-raising” or causing a ruckus, which refers to the audience’s hand-clapping, foot-stomping shouts of encouragement during a performance.Over the years, a number of people have encouraged Llergo to raise hell too, and when she looks to the future, she can’t help but feel grateful for them. “It’s crazy,” she said. “To think that when my grandfather was watering the plants in his field, he was also nurturing me.” More

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      The Rolling Stones Release ‘Hackney Diamonds,’ and More New Songs

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      Hear tracks by Kali Uchis, Helena Deland, Olof Dreijer and others.Every Friday, pop critics for The New York Times weigh in on the week’s most notable new tracks. Just want the music? Listen to the Playlist on Spotify here (or find our profile: nytimes). Like what you hear? Let us know at theplaylist@nytimes.com and sign up for our Louder newsletter, a once-a-week blast of our pop music coverage, and The Amplifier, a twice-weekly guide to new and old songs.The Rolling Stones, ‘Tell Me Straight’Most of “Hackney Diamonds,” the Rolling Stones’ first album of their own songs since 2005, is a romp that celebrates their sheer tenacity, their guitar riffs and their tight-but-loose musical reflexes — the way the band still kicks, defying mortality. True to Stones album tradition, Keith Richards takes lead vocals on one song, “Tell Me Straight,” and as usual it’s a little more ragged and unguarded than the rest. “I need an answer — how long can this last?” he sings. “Don’t make me wait — is my future all in the past?” He could be singing about a longtime friendship, a strained romance, or maybe a band that has endured, despite friction, through six decades.Kali Uchis, ‘Te Mata’The Colombian American songwriter Kali Uchis has proved herself in both up-to-the-minute Pan-American pop and retro excursions. “Te Mata” (“It Kills You”) is richly retro, a cha-cha that gracefully and emphatically rejects an abusive ex. “If you’re looking for the culprit, then look in the mirror,” she taunts in Spanish. “I’m with someone who makes me happy.” Strings, horns and jazz-tinged piano back her as her vocal rises from aplomb to icy contempt, never sacrificing sheer elegance.Caroline Polachek, ‘Dang’One percussive syllable — “Dang” — sums up the sound of this track, an outtake from “Desire, I Want to Turn Into You,” the album Caroline Polachek released earlier this year. Polachek, Cecile Believe and Danny L Harle concocted a staccato, stop-start production laced with full silences and out-of-nowhere samples. A repeated “dang” is also the bulk of the lyrics of the chorus; elsewhere, Polachek allots some melodic phrases to toy with permanence and impermanence, observing, “Maybe it’s forever, maybe it’s just shampoo.” The tone is casual; the construction, impeccably zany.Ana Tijoux, ‘Tania’The French-Chilean songwriter Ana Tijoux lost her sister Tania to cancer four years ago. “Tania” — from Tijoux’s album due in November, “Vida” (“Life”) — is a fond, celebratory tribute; Tijoux recalls her sister struggling in hospitals, but chooses remembrance over mourning. “Your memory always lives in the memories you wanted,” she promises. “We sing here, we dance here, we feel you here.” The track melds Andean rhythms with reggae, and envisions a solace “beyond every earthly plane.”Helena Deland, ‘Saying Something’Helena Deland ponders language, friendship and time in “Saying Something.” It’s a soothing, folky song about a fraught moment, when “Knowing what to say isn’t easy/Words feel like treacherous footing.” Her acoustic guitars and close-harmony vocals promise solace, even as she confesses her need: “Say something to me.”Nailah Hunter, ‘Finding Mirrors’The harpist, singer and songwriter Nailah Hunter floats enigmatic portents in “Finding Mirrors,” a single from an album, “Lovegaze,” due in January. “Don’t wanna fight you, don’t wanna win/Gold inscriptions all on your skin,” she sings. She’s cushioned by low synthesizer tones, illuminated by glimmering harp notes and prodded by undercurrents of percussion; the song stays suspended in its own limbo.Julie Byrne with Laugh Cry Laugh, ‘Velocity! What About the Inertia?’“What ever happened to slow, slow dancing?” Julie Byrne asks in a song that’s made for it: a two-chord reverie with echoey guitars and subdued percussion. Written by Laugh Cry Laugh’s bassist, Emily Fontana, with some lyrics by Byrne, the song finds bliss in the stasis of a long romance: “I’ll love you always/Our names carved in the table,” she muses.Dawn Richard, ‘Babe Ruth’A rap comparing herself to a sports hero (and a candy bar) is the least innovative component of “Babe Ruth” from Dawn Richard’s new EP, “The Architect.” Everything else stays in creative flux. A blurry, glitchy intro segues into an electro thump, a house bounce and a jazz-rock guitar solo that ends as if awaiting another metamorphosis.Olof Dreijer, ‘Cassia’Olof Dreijer, the electronic producer who’s half of the duo the Knife, has released a frisky solo instrumental EP, “Rosa Rugosa,” that toys constantly with riffs, rhythms and permutations. The melodic lines of “Cassia” use sliding, wriggling tones that always feel a little slippery, and Dreijer subverts them further with syncopated cross-rhythms and blipping countermelodies; the 4/4 motion is constant but cheerfully contested all the way through. More

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      Bad Bunny Looks Back on ‘Nadie Sabe Lo Que Va a Pasar Mañana’

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      On his fifth solo album, “Nadie Sabe Lo Que Va a Pasar Mañana,” the Puerto Rican megastar circles back to where he started.Sure, it’s lonely at the top. But isn’t it also fun once in a while?It’s hard not to ask that question listening to Bad Bunny’s latest flood of songs, the surprise-released album “Nadie Sabe Lo Que Va a Pasar Mañana” (“Nobody Knows What Will Happen Tomorrow”). It holds 21 songs and a quick snippet. But that abundance brings little joy.With this album, Bad Bunny, a.k.a. the Puerto Rican songwriter Benito Martínez Ocasio, joins the ranks of the sullen superstars: figures like Drake and Ye, stars who have conquered the world but still feel unappreciated and beleaguered. Overwhelming commercial success — hundreds of millions of streams, sold-out arena and stadium tours, attention from every possible quarter — has only made them hunker down defensively.It doesn’t have to be that way. Look at how Taylor Swift and Beyoncé now handle megastardom, savoring every moment (at least in public) while inviting fans to share the exhilaration.Bad Bunny has a perpetually startling voice, a baritone that can sing or rap with equal power. It leaps out of radio or computer speakers; it carries weight and connects emotionally across language barriers. Throughout the 2020s, Bad Bunny has smashed expectations and sales records entirely on his own terms. He asserts his Puerto Rican and Caribbean identity and regularly praises his role models; he collaborates across borders and genres. Defying the conventional wisdom of American pop crossover, he keeps his lyrics in Spanish, making any collaborators cross over to him. His new songs proclaim that he’s well aware of his status as a trailblazer — but that it doesn’t give him much comfort.The album opens with “Nadie Sabe,” a six-minute manifesto of superstar isolation set to brooding orchestral chords, with Bad Bunny eventually joined by a full choir. He declares himself “the biggest star in the entire world”; he also warns that “No one knows, no, what it feels like to feel alone in front of 100,000 people.” And for all his well-earned self-confidence, the haters still get under his skin. “I’m not at my peak, now I’m in my prime,” he sings. “That’s why they’re praying that I crash.”Connect that, of course, to grievance-powered politics and social media algorithms that stoke conflict and encourage pointless beefs. Musicians now market themselves in that environment and have to deal, one way or another, with the comments. But musicians also have different, nonverbal outlets. They have the visceral joys of rhythm. They have the intuitive responses to a harmony or a vocal tone. They have the freedom, especially in the digital era, to make startling sonic leaps with a mouse click.Bad Bunny has embraced those possibilities, broadening his musical horizons with each of his albums. While Latin trap and reggaeton are his musical foundations, he has delved into rock, reggae, hip-hop, salsa, bomba, merengue, EDM and more, sometimes within the same song, as he did in tracks like “Después de la Playa” and “El Apagón” on his blockbuster 2022 album, “Un Verano Sin Ti.”Yet on the new album, Bad Bunny deliberately narrows his palette. “Nadie Sabe” declares that the album is for his “real fans,” and most of its songs return to the Latin trap that dominated his first album, “X 100PRE,” in 2018. Five years seems a little too soon for a nostalgia trip.As craftsman and singer, Bad Bunny is thoroughly at home with the ticking electronic drums and minor chords of Latin trap. In the new songs, he works his way through familiar topics: wealth, parties, sex, fame, autonomy. And even in well-trodden sonic territory, he can create arresting songs. He’s decisively embittered in “Gracias por Nada” (“Thanks for Nothing”), a post-breakup trap ballad that burns every bridge as it details how deeply he was betrayed.But as the album ticks and hums along, the songs that linger are the ones that break away from standard Latin trap. In “Mr. October,” Bad Bunny boasts about his achievements as looping, nervous keyboards suggest anxiety behind the proud facade. “Where She Goes,” a single released in May, uses the pounding, capacious sounds of a Jersey Club beat for a lament about a one-night stand he wishes he could repeat.“Cybertruck” seesaws between melting keyboard tones and a skeletal reggaeton beat as Bad Bunny declares “I’m not normal” and taunts, “Let those who hate me hate me/Let those who love me love me.” And the camaraderie sounds genuine as Bad Bunny joins Puerto Rican rappers he grew up hearing — Arcángel, De La Ghetto & Ñengo Flow — in “Acho PR,” which is dedicated to “the people in the barrio.”“Acho PR,” like much of the album, insists that Bad Bunny is still rooted, that international recognition hasn’t changed his deepest loyalties. But the biggest star in the world has countless options. Now that he has looked back, how can he move ahead?Bad Bunny“Nadie Sabe Lo Que Va a Pasar Mañana”(Rimas) More

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      How the Agushto Papa Podcast Chronicles Musica Mexicana

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      The Agushto Papa podcast has become the go-to media outlet for the rising stars of música mexicana.When the four hosts of the Agushto Papa podcast — all Mexican Americans in their early to mid 20s — were teenagers, they wrestled with, as all young people do, the music of their parents’ generation. The varying styles that are termed, broadly, regional Mexican music, have remained emphatically traditional in presentation and sound for decades. For young men growing up very differently from their parents, listening to it was a complicated proposition.“In middle school, I was kind of scared to tell people that I would listen to it, because back then, it wasn’t cool,” said Diego Mondragon, one of the show’s founders. Angel Lopez, one of his co-hosts, echoed the sentiment: “I feel like there was a negative stigma toward it.”Much has changed in the last five years, however, thanks to an influx of new talent with wide-ranging musical references, gestures borrowed from hip-hop, and increased global attention on Spanish-language music thanks to the rise of streaming. As a result, Mexican music is evolving quickly and being heard more broadly than ever. This movement, broadly referred to as música mexicana, has minted a whole new generation of stars in short order: Peso Pluma, Natanael Cano, Grupo Frontera, Ivan Cornejo, Fuerza Regida, DannyLux, Yahritza y Su Esencia, Eslabon Armado, Junior H and more.Agushto Papa, which released its first episode on YouTube in March 2021, and has since amassed over 270,000 subscribers on the platform, has become the most reliable and visible chronicler of this wave — showcasing new releases, hosting intimate performances, reporting news about established stars and rookies alike, chit-chatting about gossip and keeping an eye on tensions that have been developing between some of the movement’s biggest names.“As first-generation immigrants, we always felt, like it or not, a little bit out of place or a little bit like we’re intruding into something,” Lopez, left, said.Alex Welsh for The New York TimesFour months ago, the hosts — Lopez, 23; Mondragon, 23; Diego (Keko) Erazo, 24; and Jason Nuñez, 23 — each moved out of their respective families’ homes into a shared house in Stanton, Calif., after a long stretch filming the show largely in Nuñez’s family garage, in order to create a more focused environment for making their content. (Erazo, Mondragon and Nuñez grew up nearby, in Westminster, Calif., and played soccer together as children. They met Lopez in high school.)“As first-generation immigrants, we always felt, like it or not, a little bit out of place or a little bit like we’re intruding into something,” Lopez said. “And now, with the music, we heard people our age talking about issues that we have living here in the United States as Mexicans. So we really fell in love with that.” (For a time, Mondragon and Nuñez were in a band, Grupo Activo, managed by Erazo — the podcast’s title is from an inside joke from that era, riffing on the term “a gusto,” or relaxed.)Most of the show’s interview subjects are of a similar age and cultural background as the hosts, creating a built-in ease. “A lot of the new artists that are coming out, they’re Mexican American. They speak both Spanish and English,” Erazo said. Mondragon estimated that about 75 percent of the podcast’s interviews are conducted in English.Erazo added that the casualness of the setting contributes to the hosts’ ability to get unvarnished conversation from their subjects: “They needed somewhere where they could be themselves, be who they are, express their feelings, let it all out instead of going in and being like, ‘Yes sir, no sir.’” Many interviews are booked directly, over text or direct message, bypassing traditional intermediaries.Mondragon also emphasized that it’s not just the musicmakers who are changing, but the music as well, a far cry from what was on offer in his parents’ era. “Back then music was very strict with their rules. Like, ‘you need to dress like this, You need to sing like Vicente Fernández. You need to have this beautiful voice,’” he said. But the introduction of technology and techniques from other genres meant more stylistic entry points for artists.“I think a big reason why the younger generation fell in love with this music is you didn’t really have to have a singer’s voice to participate,” Nuñez said. “If you had like a regular monotone voice, you could still cultivate and create the new style of music.”As the scene has become more popular, there have been more internecine squabbles between artists — a primary one is between Peso Pluma and Jesus Ortiz Paz, the singer of Fuerza Regida — tensions that persist despite the fact that the genre’s rising tide is likely to lift all boats.The podcast’s casual setting is key to the hosts’ ability to get unvarnished conversation from their subjects.Alex Welsh for The New York Times“I think we just try to stay neutral and let the people decide,” Nuñez said. “Just give them the facts.” On the show, discussions about the artists’ barbs at each other are dissected with childlike awe and a layer of concern. (Occasionally the podcasters have tried to capitalize on the spats: They briefly sold “Make JOP and Peso Friends Again” shirts and hats.)Very quickly, the hosts themselves have become figures in the world they document. Occasionally, they’ll share videos which show them getting acknowledged at concerts by the artists they cover and admire. They have started a record label, which they hope to use to elevate new talent, and view the long-running radio and television personality Pepe Garza, and his interview and performance show “Pepe’s Office,” as a model for what Agushto Papa might develop into.There have been some hiccups in the crew’s quick ascent. Recently the show was demonetized by YouTube over a technical issue. And in a recent video, Lopez frankly discussed how the sudden success of the show had led to some disruptive life decisions, which prompted a group decision to stop drinking. “The whole honeymoon phase is over,” he said. When they began the podcast, Lopez said he had been happy just to receive invitations to artists’ parties. “But you’ve got to learn to say no and just to get to work.”Perhaps most crucially, though, not only have they fully reconciled their relationship with the music of their parents’ generation, but they’ve been able to convince their parents that the music of the current generation is valid, too.“A lot of older people were saying, ‘Oh, what is this? Turn it off. That’s not real Mexican music,’” Erazo said.Mondragon recalled his mother’s initial resistance to Cano, one of his favorite artists and a central figure in the movement’s increased visibility. “She would be like, ‘Why does he dress like that? Why does he talk like that? The tattoos are ugly,’” he recalled.She’s opened her mind, and her ears, though. “Now she understands that we need a Nata, we need a Peso — to put Mexico out there to the world, for us.” More

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      Review: Arca Struts the Catwalk Between Diva and Meta Diva

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      In “Mutant;Destrudo,” her show at the Park Avenue Armory, the experimental musician delivers what is essentially a traditional concert.Amid the boundaries that the musician Arca has explored over the past decade — between technology and nature, male and female, vulnerability and aggression — another has arisen recently: the line between a pop diva and an artist commenting on pop divas.As with those other binaries, Arca hovers somewhere in the blurry, ever-evolving middle of this one: a Schrödinger’s diva, simultaneously performing stardom and deconstructing it.“Mutant;Destrudo,” her four-performance show that opened on Wednesday at the Park Avenue Armory in Manhattan, is essentially a traditional concert. There is a stage, a large screen behind it that shows a mixture of live and premade video, and a catwalk protruding into the crowd.Regularly during the two-hour show, a camera at the end of the runway relays a thighs-down view of Arca strutting in spike heels as she sings, à la Beyoncé. There’s a piano on one side of the stage, at which she sits for some quieter moments, à la Lady Gaga or Taylor Swift. There are reggaeton beats overlaid with flowing, easygoing raps, à la Rosalía or Bad Bunny. She takes selfies with phones handed up to her.If you squint, this is pop.That is a world in which Arca, the pseudonym of the Venezuelan-born Alejandra Ghersi, has spent time. She started as a producer for Kanye West, FKA twigs, Björk and others as she built a following for her own music, including the kaleidoscopic five-album cycle “Kick,” released in a flurry in 2020 and 2021.But if parts of “Kick” and “Mutant;Destrudo” seem like plays for mainstream eyes and ears, Arca stubbornly resists being too digestible. The Armory show, like Swift’s touring behemoth, picks and chooses from a catalog that is, after only 10 or so years, widely varied. But unlike Swift, Arca’s eras are spiky and hard to define; she doesn’t do anthems. “Destrudo” is billed as being structured in three acts, but the divisions between them are murky.This is restless, unsettled music, evoking both exhilaration and anxiety that a single person can produce — and can be — so many different things. Wednesday’s set began with murmured lullaby torch songs, in the airy yet sultry, prayerful, sometimes crooning voice of “Arca” (2017) and the fifth “Kick” album. The evening’s climax — long, seething, groaning, grinding synthesizer instrumentals — could hardly have been more different.Arca at the synthesizer where she made the kinds of sounds she specialized in at the beginning of her career: glitches, explosions, video-game-style machine-gun rounds, spacily stretched tones.Hiroko Masuike/The New York TimesBetween those extremes were hip-swaying bits of reggaeton, from the second “Kick,” and explosive electronics; in one number, smooth vocals and a low-slung beat were disrupted by metallic squeals. Songs seemed to end almost arbitrarily, as if Arca were simply ready to move on to something else. The mood was twitchy, fractured, a perpetual transformation.For all the arresting high-tech video imagery — psychedelic layers superimposed until they took on hologram-like pseudoreality — there was a studiedly rough, decidedly non-stadium aspect to the show.Arca’s first costume change — out of a slinky, shimmering black dress into a plastic breastplate with lights at the nipples and a patchwork miniskirt — took place in full view of the audience, without much rushing or showmanship. The awkwardness of how long it took, the lack of spectacle, seemed intentional: This, she seemed to be saying, is the glamorous drudgery we put female artists through. We sometimes saw Arca on video as she lay on an examining chair, as if our perspective was that of her surgeon.Her piano — unlike Swift’s or Lady Gaga’s — is prepared with magnets that turn it into an electroacoustic machine of woozy, otherworldly lyricism, tinged with buzz. And unlike most pop divas, Arca had a synthesizer setup on the other side of the stage, at which she grinned maniacally and made the kind of noise that she specialized in at the beginning of her career: harsh shards in wet earth, glitches, explosions, video-game-style machine-gun rounds, roars, spacily stretched tones.It was the kind of soundscape that fit the show’s title: “Destrudo” is a term relating to the Freudian death drive, a theme in keeping with Arca’s gothy-cyborg self-styling. But while the music occasionally got loud on Wednesday, there was little of the heavy, disorienting, oozingly morphing melancholy of her early work. Lacking the encompassing (if changeable) moods of the albums, this was a performance more endearing than emotional; even the dancey parts were too brief to build up much joy.“Destrudo” follows “Mutant;Faith,” her 2019 production at the Shed. In that period, when she began identifying as a nonbinary trans woman, pre-“Kick,” it landed more squarely on the side of experimental performance art. Arca did the show in a dirt pit, wore hoofed stilts, used a stripper-pole synthesizer and rode a mechanical bull.Now, trying more than ever to have it both pop and not, she is still fascinating, but — maybe inevitably — not fully satisfying.At the Armory, she was charming, game, sweetly grateful to the crowd. “This is fun, right?” she said, sincerely, as she paused to correct something wrong with the technology in her high heels that seemed meant to translate her steps into sounds. And it was fun — sort of.ArcaThrough Sunday at the Park Avenue Armory, Manhattan; armoryonpark.org More

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      Peso Pluma, Mexico’s Breakout Music Star, Finds New Spotlights

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      Backstage at the MTV Video Music Awards last month, at the Prudential Center in Newark, the out-of-nowhere Mexican superstar Peso Pluma gathered his band for an inspirational talk. That night, he was to become the first Mexican artist to ever perform on the show, but before the dress rehearsal of his song “Lady Gaga,” he set aside around 10 minutes to reminisce with the musicians who have been with him for years, telling them how none of his success would have been possible without them. At the end, almost the whole band walked out of the room in tears.Peso was in a reflective mood because of the milestone he was about to achieve. But some somberness was in the air, too. That morning, there were news reports from Mexico about banners posted in Tijuana, signed with the initials of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel, a powerful rival to the Sinaloa Cartel. They demanded Peso cancel an upcoming concert in the city, threatening his safety if he were to perform.A handful of personal security guards were milling about, but at the moment, there wasn’t much to do besides press on. Before Peso hit the red carpet, he and his manager, George Prajin, huddled quickly, to talk about how to handle any questions about something other than music. Then, he stepped out in front of the paparazzi phalanx, playfully jabbing out his tongue, Jagger-style, and sidled into cheerful interviews with “Entertainment Tonight” and “El Gordo y La Flaca.”The following day, at the Hard Rock Hotel in Midtown Manhattan, Peso woke up late after a long night at his V.M.A.s after-party. But he was alert, and pointed in underscoring the importance of the prior night’s performance.“I took it as an opportunity to show the world what I had,” he said. “I just wanted all these artists to get to know me. To get to know what I do, and to get to know better the genre that I do.”More than a dozen weeks after the release of Peso’s third album, “Génesis,” it remains in the top 10 of Billboard’s all-genre album chart.Josefina Santos for The New York TimesPeso, 24, is the reigning king of corridos tumbados, a modern version of traditional Mexican music, which has found great success over the last couple of years. Peso sings and raps in a fashion indebted to contemporary hip-hop and reggaeton over production that holds close to traditional forms. (Peso Pluma — which translates to featherweight — is both his stage name and how he refers to the musical project and band as a whole.)In July, “Génesis” — Peso’s third studio album, but his first since refining his sound and growing his ambitions — made its debut on the Billboard all-genre album chart at No. 3, the highest position ever for an album of regional Mexican music. And it’s had staying power — more than a dozen weeks later, it remains in the Top 10. On Spotify alone, his songs have been streamed several billion times.There have been occasional moments of Mexican American musical crossover in this country — the gangster rap of Kid Frost, the emotional ballads of Selena, the lite R&B and hip-hop of Frankie J and Baby Bash. But Mexican performers have largely been relegated to, and musically remained faithful to, the traditions of what is termed regional Mexican music, an umbrella term that encompasses varying styles from different parts of the country and the southwestern United States. Peso has reframed this music from regional to global. He has collaborated with artists from across the Spanish-speaking world — the Puerto Rican rapper Eladio Carrión, the Dominican dembow star El Alfa, the superstar Argentine producer Bizarrap. And his song “Ella Baila Sola” — a collaboration with Eslabon Armado — was the first Mexican song to hit the Top 5 on the Billboard all-genre Hot 100Peso — whose real name is Hassan Emilio Kabande Laija — was born in Guadalajara, and sometimes spent time in Sinaloa with family as a child. He found inspiration in the work of Chalino Sánchez, a seminal singer of narcocorridos, which tell stories about the Mexican drug trade. Peso fell for “his raspy voice, his very unique way to sing corridos, his very unique way to sing romantic songs,” he said. “When this type of music was playing in the car, I literally took my earphones out to hear what he was saying.”Peso also gravitated to Ariel Camacho, a rising young star of the 2010s known for impressive guitar playing. (Sanchez was murdered in 1992; Camacho died in a car accident in 2015.)But even though Peso enjoyed that music, he didn’t feel particularly connected to its aesthetics, which tend toward crisp Western wear, embroidered suits and cowboy boots.“Since I was a kid, my favorite genres have always been reggaeton and hip-hop,” he said. (He spent some of his teenage years in San Antonio and New York, where he found himself gravitating to the likes of Kanye West and Drake.) “That’s why I don’t wear the sombreros. I don’t wear the boots. I’m not that.”Instead, he dresses like a rapper — loud designer clothes, expensive jewelry and watches that a member of his entourage is tasked with carrying around in soft blue cases from the Atlanta celebrity jeweler Icebox.On the V.M.A.s stage, he was dressed in all black, like a luxury spider — wide and angular puffy vest, shamelessly wide and crinkly pants, short leather gloves and boxy sunglasses. Backstage, he gamely stood for a signature antic TikTok interrogation about his outfit from the social media personality Christoosmoove, a clip that was viewed over 10 million times.Peso was also the first Mexican musician to film an episode of “Sneaker Shopping,” a YouTube series that’s a favorite of rappers and social media celebrities; he spent over $32,000, including sneakers for all his bandmates, putting him in the show’s top 10 all-time spenders. The day after the V.M.A.s, the show’s host, Joe La Puma, sent him a gift: a rare pair of 2005 Cinco de Mayo Nike SB Dunks in the colors of the Mexican flag.Peso’s path to the MTV stage was nonlinear, and also improbably fast. He released a pair of albums in the early 2020s, just as the corridos tumbados scene was being established. And he began working extensively with other artists — the majority of his earliest songs to chart were collaborations, including with Natanael Cano and Fuerza Regida, some of the young performers who established the movement just a few years ago. (Cano’s 2019 collaboration with Bad Bunny on the remix of “Soy El Diablo” was one of the first crossover moments for corridos tumbados.)Some of Peso’s songs tend to the romantic, some are boastful, and some are in the vein of narcocorridos. (These are the songs that have led to the reported threats against him.)The young stars of corridos tumbados initially received a cold welcome from the older, more established traditionalists of Mexican music. “I know it’s not envy, I know it’s not any of that,” Peso said graciously. “It’s just they weren’t sure about how to react.”But while he has been able to befriend and continue to collaborate with Cano, there has been rumored tension with Jesus Ortiz Paz of Fuerza Regida, one of the scene’s most prominent acts. (Peso largely declined to discuss any friction he’s faced: “I feel everything that people say, but I try to focus on the positive things, not the negative.”)Peso plans to release a reggaeton EP soon, and following that, strategic collaborations with American rappers.Josefina Santos for The New York TimesIt has provided a story line for the media outlets that document the scene, including the Agushto Papa podcast, which has been enthusiastically covering the rise of Mexican music for the past two years.“I think that he has pushed how these artists do concerts a lot,” said Angel Lopez, one of the show’s hosts. “I don’t think they’ll ever admit it. But after seeing how Peso Pluma performs, everybody had to step their game up. They can’t just stand there in front of a microphone, play their instrument, or sing. They need to add more.”Onstage, Peso is loose and a little eccentric, always shimmying; his band also moves with controlled jubilation. Jason Nunez, one of the other hosts, added, “Another thing too is the dances — no one danced like that. And even if people thought it was weird, they would hate on it and it would just make him bigger. And also, I feel like it’s like a small thing, but it still matters — the hair.” (The hair does matter. Peso has a rangy mullet that’s become a style marker, and is in perhaps unconscious dialogue with the mullets of Morgan Wallen and various K-pop stars.)The speed of Peso’s ascent has been dizzying and disorienting. “A lot of people don’t know that I have anxiety breakouts,” Peso said. “It is very important for people who have mental issues to be treated and to talk about it.”The Tijuana show was eventually canceled out of safety concerns, even though the police had yet to publicly confirm the authenticity of the handwritten banners. “There’s a lot of things that is fake and a lot of things that is not,” Peso said.Prajin, his manager, said the team had to take every threat seriously. “I want to make sure that not only is he secured financially, but that also we take care of his mental health and his physical health,” he said. “And of course, his security. He can’t go anywhere without having a bunch of security — I won’t let him.”A couple of weeks after the cancellation, Peso announced shows in three other Mexican cities. “I do feel safe,” he said. “Being close to God is the most important thing. And I think that’s why I feel safe. It’s more of a spiritual thing for me.”Prajin suggested that Peso’s subject matter might evolve as he became better known, and his musical footprint widened. “He’s never going to stop singing those songs because that’s what he grew up with, the culture that he grew up around,” he said. “But I do see that he’s definitely going in a different direction in terms of the music that he’s singing. There’s a lot of love songs, a lot of different fusions.”Given Peso’s popularity, the collaboration requests are coming in fast. “You have no idea of how many rappers, how many country singers, R&B singers are connecting with us,” Peso said.He plans to release a reggaeton EP soon, and following that, strategic collaborations with American rappers. Prajin said conversations had already begun with Cardi B, ASAP Rocky and Post Malone.These new pathways, he hopes, will be available not just to him, but to Mexican artists who might follow in his footsteps. And thanks to his success, more new doors are open to Mexican performers beyond just the V.M.A.s.“I saw Taylor Swift moving her head, dancing to my song yesterday.,” he said, marveling at the unlikeliness of it all. “That, we couldn’t even imagine.” More