This was last Tuesday. This was Calle 13’s first concert in Cuba. This was fact: everyone was rapping along with Residente and Visitante. Calle 13 is bonafide phenomenon. I saw them last summer in Central Park, exhilarating. Not just because of the sounds. But also because of the crowd. Calle 13 is a movement unto itself, uber inclusive of the excluded, while still being a home for the mainstream hip.
I am struck by these images, these extra-national musical citizenship images, for what they mean for Cuba (imagine U.S. public space being used for a massive hip hop concert), and for what they imply about where hip hop lives, in all those hearts, beating, pushing against our growing edges, regardless.