Narcocorridos

Probably way more than you wanted to know about drug ballads

During the Mexican Revolution (1910 - 1920), musicians and songwriters in Mexico created a musical genre that is still thriving today: the corrido. In the context of music, corrido means “ballad”; it is traditionally a song without a chorus, told in a straightforward, narrative manner. The melodies are simple and repetitive. During the Revolution, corridos were written about key revolutionary figures such as Emiliano Zapata, Francisco Madero, and Pancho Villa; or important battles or events, such as the First Battle of Torreón. You can listen to short samples of revolutionary era corridos here.

YouTube has a lot of revolutionary era corridos as well. Here is the corrido La Toma de Torreón.

Altered states

Today, corridos are more popular than ever; but they now tell of different types of insurgents, different sorts of battles. The narcocorrido (drug ballad) has swept into pop culture much like ganster rap did in the U.S. in the 1980s. Narcocorridos are a genre of corrido that celebrates the men and women involved in, as well as the events surrounding, Mexico’s drug cartels. Many credit the advent of the narcocorrido to the Mexican singer and songwriter Rosalino Sánchez Félix. Born on the mean streets of Cuilacán, Sinaloa, Sánchez - or Chalino, his preferred nickname - was immersed from the get-go in a world of criminal activity. As a young adult, Chalino worked as a small time drug dealer in Tijuana and California; he also helped to smuggle migrants from Mexico to California. In 1984, he was arrested and imprisoned for several months in Tijuana. It was during his time in a Tijuana prison that Chalino began writing corrido style songs about his fellow inmates, who were mostly also involved in drug trafficking. These inmates were so taken with the idea of having songs written and performed about them, that they began paying Chalino with cash and contraband.

After his short prison term, Chalino hooked up with the owner of a recording studio, and he began writing and recording more corridos, commissioned again by people involved in the drug trade. His recordings became increasingly more popular, and he began selling albums and performing live in larger and larger venues.

After surviving multiple gunshots by - one would assume - a disgruntled fan at a concert in Coachella, California, Chalino was ultimately murdered in his hometown of Cuilacán, Sinaloa. He had just finished performing a concert there, when he was abducted and later found dead. All indications suggest that he was killed at the hands of cartel members, but why remains a mystery. After his death, his popularity soared further. And with that popularity came other artists hoping to carry on (or cash in on) his legacy of narcocorridos.

Boom, like that

For an un-hip U.S. audience, the introduction to the narcocorrido likely came in the second season of the hit television series Breaking Bad. The opening segment of the seventh episode (titled Negro y Azul) features a Mexican trio performing a corrido in Spanish about Walter White (a.k.a. “Heisenberg”), the series protagonist and up-and-coming king of methamphetamine “cooks”. Little did that un-hip audience know that by this time, the narcocorrido was, in fact, big business. Artists such as Natanael Cano and Peso Pluma are filling arenas and topping mainstream music charts singing about the drug wars and the sicarios and bosses involved in them. Here is a somewhat extreme - yet hugely popular - example of a modern narcocorrido song: Sanguinarios del M1 (Bloodthirsty Men of the M1) by Movimiento Alterado.

Narcocorridos are not just a Mexican phenomenon. While their subjects are primarily Mexico-based, the songs and artists represent a huge business in the U.S., where artists can demand higher ticket prices and thus larger paychecks for their performances. Just like with the drugs that they sing about, the most lucrative customers are north of the border.

Judging

Various Mexican states and municipalities have attempted - with varying degrees of success - to ban narcocorridos, or at least the sales and performances thereof. The justification for such bans stems from the belief that these songs and their glorification of drug lords and drug wars do nothing but further the cycle of violence and lawlessness in the narco world. I wonder, though: are the narcocorrido stars furthering the culture or merely reflecting it? Did movies like Bonnie and Clyde and The Godfather - both of which painted elegiac portraits of violent criminals - contribute to similar cycles of violence? What about Netflix’s Narcos, or Queen of the South, or the aforementioned Breaking Bad? Is The Godfather less influential than Peso Pluma? Have we decided that when it is playing at the local cineplex, it’s ok; but when young adults in loose-fitting jeans are listening to it, it’s unacceptable?

Who knows. Music, although often having a shorter half-life than cinema, does have a longer reach: it is cheaper, often free. Easier, consumed in smaller doses. It is repeated again and again, memorized, ear-wormed. It is far more accessible, and more inescapable.

And this may be the reason why the narcocorrido is having a bit of a push-back moment. From social media influencers to other mainstream artists to government officials, a sort of weariness seems to be beginning to settle in around the narcocorrido. Can’t we just get back to signing about sex? Oh well, who knows if the weariness will be long-lasting or significant?

But now, artists like Mexican singer/songwriter Vivir Quintana are writing and performing anti-narcocorrido ballads - songs about the murdered journalists, the femicide - the innocent victims of the crimes that the narcocorridos praise.

It does feel like maybe glorifying an industry that is defined by violence and terror is a trend whose potential downward spiral is not such a bad thing.

Sing us out, Vivir Quintana.