I’m sitting under a small tent behind a restaurant, perched on an overlook, about 5,500 feet above sea level. Funky, percussive beats are booming from a small subwoofer speaker against a makeshift stage made from milk crates. I’m nodding my head along to the music as I sit in the provisional performance venue, which is packed to the brim with almost 30 people. We’re all buzzing with excitement.
I’m here for a performance from Venez Music Collective, a group of Venezuelan migrants who stage freestyle reggaetón concerts for travelers visiting Medellín’s Comuna 13 neighborhood. The troupe’s leader, Poke, begins by asking us where we’re visiting from. He then jots each city down on the whiteboard, distracting the crowd with banter while figuring out lyrics for his freestyle performance. It’s quickly littered with place names: Bogotá; Alicante and the Canary Islands in Spain; Marseille, France; San Juan, Puerto Rico.
Then it’s time for the show. Poke and his crew crank up the volume on some instrumental reggaetón beats and freestyle over it with lyrics referencing the places people are from. The crowd erupts after every 16 bars. I’m in my seat, laughing along and nervous for my turn when I hear him croon a croaky rendition of Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York.” He pulls me up to dance and then raps about me and my hometown.
I let loose with a few of my go-to reggatón moves; he cuts close, poking fun at my American citizenship:
I admit, I am impressed / New York is the best / and you come here, speaking Spanish / I know, you’re probably here because you’re on Trump’s list.
The jab was sharp yet smart, so I continue to smile. This is merely my first taste of live music on my two-day tour of Medellín, Colombia’s vibrant music scene.
Casa Kolacho is a nonprofit cultural center in Medellín’s Comuna 13 neighborhood that employs local musicians for musical history tours of the area.
Photo by Viviana Peretti
Two tours telling the story behind Medellín’s music
Music has been my only consistent connection to my culture as a first-generation Colombian American. For as long as I can remember, I’ve taken flights to my ancestral homeland. Each time, I loaded up my headphones with my favorite reggaetón tunes, eager to impress my cousins back home. No matter where I am in the world, how long it’s been since I called my family here, or how rapidly Colombia is changing, I know I can always plug into reggaetón and feel closer to my roots.
This year, I decided to visit, Medellín, Colombia, the city that’s producing and creating most of my favorite music. It’s the world capital of reggaetón music, and people from all over the globe come here chasing the genre’s wildly percussive beats and melodic lyrical flow.
That demand for music and creation has changed the city for the better. Medellín was once the epicenter of Colombia’s infamous drug cartel activity and has struggled to upend this dark narrative. Since the early 2000s, tourists have flocked here for narcotourism, creating a demand for tours that glamorize and exploit Colombia’s painful history. But in recent years, the city has invested heavily in its music scene, working closely with local artists and internationally successful wunderkinds like J. Balvin, Karol G, and Maluma. In 2015, Medellín earned a UNESCO Creative City designation for its social revitalization through music. As Medellín’s reputation has transformed from one of cartel violence into one of resilient musicians, the city’s tourism demands have changed too.
On my first day in Medellín, I head to Casa Kolacho, a cultural center in the Comuna 13 neighborhood. The organization is telling the story of the city’s transformation and encouraging musical production in the comuna. The center provides spaces for creatives to practice, perform, and record—and generates revenue by employing the artists as tour guides. My guide, Carolina Gutierrez Restrepo, is a local rapper who makes music under the stage name La Fiera, with an all-women and gender-nonconforming rap group.
Carolina tells our group of eight people that understanding the music of Comuna 13 requires an understanding of the neighborhood’s geographic relationship to the city. As we venture up the hillside by bus, I learn that Comuna 13 was once remote and inaccessible to people outside the neighborhood. It’s easy to see why: The drive here is less than a mile, but it takes us almost 20 minutes as our bus driver navigates sharp corners, steep hills, and bumpy roads.
Less than 20 years ago, none of this infrastructure, including the paved roads we drive up and the bus route we’re taking, existed. This inaccessibility inhibited storytellers from sharing their perspective for a long time. But now, a new generation of artists is ready to tell the story of the neighborhood. “We’ve had many musicians from Comuna 13 find success in the industry, which helps us all experiment with new sounds and stories,” Carolina tells me. “But, ultimately, we stay true to our Colombian roots and tell the story of what’s happening right here to the rest of the world.”
Medellín is the production capital of reggaetón music, but it‘s important to note that the sound didn‘t originate here. The genre began in Panama in the late ‘80s, then made its way to Puerto Rico in the early ‘90s, where artists like Daddy Yankee and N.O.R.E. brought the sound to the entirety of the Spanish-speaking world. Then the Colombian government began prioritizing investment in Medellín’s cultural sector in the mid-aughts. That turned the city into a hub for reggaetón producers, like DJ Pope, who attracted talent from across the globe with their hypnotic reggaetón beats and, in turn, transformed Medellín into a cultural capital for the genre.
Comuna 13 in Medellín, Colombia, is a community built into the side of the Andes Mountains. The neighborhood sits at about 7,500 feet above sea level.
Photo by Viviana Peretti
I see murals of singers and artists everywhere as I walk the neighborhood’s steep hills. Carolina explains their stories: From famous Puerto Rican salsa singer Hector LaVoe to global reggaetón star Karol G, the legacies of the artists that paved the way for Medellín’s musical power are painted everywhere. There are also nods to the Black and Indigenous roots of both the comuna and reggaetón music as a whole: Murals tell the story of how Comuna 13 came to be the most segregated neighborhood in the city. Large graffiti works honor the contributions of Black artists across the African diaspora.
Twenty minutes later, we reach the comuna’s highest point. Restaurants, bars, and artisans are packed into tiny streets. Carolina takes us to La Promesa de la 13, where we catch that performance by Venez Music Collective, then to a bar next door where salsa players are performing lively tunes, and on again to see a group called Trova de la 13 singing Trova, a folkloric genre of improvisational music that originates in Medellín. Down the street, we spot an impromptu rap performance by some teenagers.
The breadth of genres is almost overwhelming. When I ask Carolina about this, they point out the success of this neighborhood’s investment in communal music-making. “Organizations like Casa Kolacho are a launching pad for musicians here . . . We’re a very open and generous community. We help musicians from all over the globe launch careers here, which makes our sound diverse and plentiful,” they tell me. “Don’t be shocked when you hear a song that sounds like one of these playing in New York in a few years.”
Trova is a popular style of folkloric music that originates in the Antioquia department of Colombia, where Medellín is located. Troubadours playing guitars use the stories of locals and tourists to create songs on the spot.
Photo by Viviana Peretti
The next day, I set off to see some of Medellín’s reggaetón landmarks. I travel 20 minutes northwest to Barrio Alfonso Lopez, where I meet Ian Londoño and the rest of the Living Tours Medellín team. Living Tours begins its city tour with a stop at “J. Balvin x 574” basketball court in the Alfonso Lopez neighborhood. The space is owned by J. Balvin, the popstar who put Colombia’s reggaetón scene on the map. He was born and raised in Medellín and was the first reggaetón singer and producer in the world to hit number one on the Billboard Hot 100 chart with a song entirely in Spanish. “Mi Gente” took the globe by storm in 2017.
“J. Balvin is pioneering a new Colombian narrative,” Ian says. “His music shows the world that Colombians are hardworking, honest, and industrious, that we have joy and positivity to offer. ” Balvin is also working to change his hometown for the better. “He’s one of the biggest investors in the social transformation of Medellín,” Ian tells me. This park is just one of several spaces Balvin has created in Medellín. Others include Medellín Music Lab, the FC Futures athletic center, and the J. Balvin Museum, all of which are free and open to the public.
Ten minutes east by car, Ian takes me to the Aranjuez neighborhood, home of rap group Alcolirykoz, famous for their songs that uplift and celebrate Colombia’s most marginalized people. We see several murals commissioned by the group that honor the Medellín music scene’s Afro-Latino influences. These two locations tell two different yet complementary sides of Medellín’s story. As an artist and global figure, J. Balvin aims to deconstruct stereotypes about the country by emphasizing peace, empowerment, and progress and showcasing Colombian ingenuity and industriousness. On the other hand, Alcolirykoz celebrates everyday working-class residents. Their music uplifts the ordinary and seemingly mundane aspects of life in the country.
To get a better understanding of this, Ian recommends visiting the Memory House Museum, a space dedicated to telling the stories of Colombia’s armed conflict. There, you can listen to music that documents the difficulties of the conflict. The ghost of this history is ever-present for Medellín’s musicians. Whether through confronting it head-on, as Alcolirykoz does, or by using musical success to delegitimize Colombian stereotypes, as J. Balvin does, there is no escaping the country’s violent past.
Ian takes me to Barrio Antioquia, a 20-minute drive south of Aranjuez to the store and studio of Blessd, a reggaetón artist with hit songs like “Medallo” and “Mírame.” The space is called Blesscol, and while the storefront may not seem like much, it’s the site of some of Medellín’s biggest annual outdoor concerts. In December, Blessd hosts a massive free street concert on this corner. Throughout the last weeks of December, other artists also host free concerts on street corners throughout the city as a way of giving back to the community before the winter holidays. Alcolirykoz also does one, in the Aranjuez neighborhood. “December is, without a doubt, the biggest month for music-listening here in Medellín,” Ian says.
Ian then says we have to make a quick stop in Comuna 13. “I know you’ve already visited, but no reggaetón tour is complete without a stop there.” He takes me to a section of the comuna I hadn’t seen on my earlier visit. We head to the comuna’s Artistic Corridor, owned by Salvajes Colectivo Artistico, or the Savage Artistic Collective. We meet with Rodolfo Usuga, known simply as Usuga: musician, mural artist, and founder of the collective.
He takes me on a quick tour of the Salvajes center, which is home to an audio-visual recording studio, an art gallery, a café with locally grown coffee and chocolate, and a restaurant, all owned and operated by creatives from the neighborhood. “Here we’re trying to offer positive alternatives,” Usuga tells me. “We want to find an equilibrium between economic development while also investing directly into the community and preserving our incredible subcultures.”
Teatro Victoria in Medellín’s Provenza district is a hot spot for live music.
Photo by Viviana Peretti
On the opposite end of the city, just 30 minutes away by car, is the booming commercial district of Provenza. This is the final stop on our tour, which tells the story of how reggaetón music is fueling commercialism in Medellín and transforming tourism in the city. Provenza used to be a fairly run-of-the-mill commercial district—until 2022, when reggaetón star Karol G released her hit song “Provenza,” which tells the story of young people dating in Medellín.
In the years since the song’s release, hundreds of tourists have flocked to the district. Today, Provenza is one of Medellín’s most visited areas, with some of the city’s best live music venues (like Teatro Victoria) and most exciting restaurants. Karol G owns a nightclub and restaurant called Provenza, which regularly features live performances from reggaetón artists. Just down the street, Latin popstar and Medellín native Maluma recently opened a nightclub called 903, which spotlights music from Colombia’s biggest urbano artists working today; it’s also hosted reggaetón acts like Ryan Castro, Keityn, and Yori Boy.
Reggaéton stars across Medellín have transformed Provenza from a sleepy street of restaurants for corporate employees into a hub of musical opulence.
Photos by Viviana Peretti
We arrive in Provenza at about 5 p.m., and it’s underwhelming. The streets are empty and local businesses are still setting up. But because this was the last stop on the tour, Ian convinces me to stay until nightfall. “Enjoy the space,” Ian tells me, referring to the quiet and empty streets before me. “It won’t last.” The sun soon sets over the city, and I watch as hundreds of tourists pool into Provenza. Music begins to blast in the streets, pouring from local nightclubs, filled with eager people looking to experience Medellín’s musical offerings. Fairy lights strung along the awnings of each business are twinkling. And I let the thumping urbano beats fill me with their restorative power.
Teatro Victoria in Medellín has been a haven for musicians since the 1950s. Now the space embraces several genres and provides locals and visitors with access to great live music.
Photo by Viviana Peretti
I think about how powerful music has been in transforming Medellín’s narrative. As I walk by a Trova group singing on my way to a bustling nightclub, I think back to the ways music has brought joy to this once-discarded city. “Our culture of communal music making is a bridge of inspiration here in Medellín,” Usuga told me earlier in the day. “It activates our youth, it activates our adults, and it has opened incredible doors for us to keep developing.”
