In this Spanglish interview, the Venezuelan-Peruvian musician and producer talks about non-binary identity, making emotional songs to throw it back to, and new release Corazón Club Vol. 1.

WRITER, SET DESIGN AND STYLIST E.R. PULGAR
PHOTOGRAPHER ROY FREIHA
FASHION MANCHADO

When MJ Nebreda arrives at my Mexico City apartment, I’m immediately struck by their cascading black hair. With the cover of her last release Arepa Mixtape in my mind – where she’s laying on a bed of plantain leaves channelling an hallaca (a traditional Venezuelan Christmas dish) covered in avocados, flowers, and, yes, arepas – I would have imagined her with a flaming red mane à la Riot!-era Hayley Williams.

“It’s a new era, and it’s giving goth bitch,” they say, bubbly and joking as we settle into photos. The goth bitch of it all becomes evident as our rooftop shoot goes on under the greying late-afternoon sky, photographer using the last rays of sunlight as they glint faintly off Nebreda’s black-as-night Rick Owens Kriester visors. 

The Venezuelan-Peruvian musician and producer had a late night. Around 1:30AM the day of our interview, she was headlining the 34th edition of CDMX perreo party Goteo. Nebreda, who is based in Miami, has made a name for themself with an approach to the dance floor as emotive as it is worthy of raving all night long. Her unabashedly horny, vibrant, and genre-fluid approach to music has reached a global audience across the far reaches of the diaspora, from several hometown sets at Miami’s iii Points Festival to the previous night’s packed Mexico City set and the decks of Paris-based neoperreo collective Misantropical. 

“Siempre empiezo con el beat primero. I don’t really sit down and then I’m like: ‘I want to write a song about esto’; “I’m more like, ‘¿qué me salió?’” she tells me in the Spanglish typical of Miami natives. “Me analizo a mí misma, and then I go to the studio. There are so many emotions to talk about. I’m very driven by intuition, rather than formula.”

Nebreda’s forthcoming mixtape Corazón Club, Vol. 1, throws all of these emotions and influences in a pot and melds them into a layered fondue. Out mid-November, the nine-track record further cements their status as an essential player of new Latin electronic music. The mixtape, which implies the existence of another Corazón Club iteration in the near future, sees Nebreda curate together contemporaries in the Latin Club scene like Venezuelan electronica’s lord of darkness Safety Trance (eerie goth perreo “Tu Me Das”), TraTraTraxx associate Bitter Babe (cheeky bop “Organic”, which samples Calle 13’s “Atrevete Te Te”), and Latin Core founder CRRDR (erotically-charged single “Soy Sentimental”) to hardcore perreo OGs like Puertorriocan MC Kelvin El Sacamostro (hyperactive party-starter “Puta Romantica”). 

Corazón Club, Vol. 1 stretches itself across filthy reggaeton, breakbeat, raptor house, and moving reflections on heartbreak and belonging. A self-proclaimed “hypersensitive Cancer with ADHD,” Nebreda’s emotional extremes are as present as the sonic ones on her latest. Jungle-inspired emotional storm “Tormenta” reflects on the end of a relationship, while “Así Nací” nods to their Venezuelan roots and the feeling of inability a lot of Venezuelans in the diaspora have watching our country’s ongoing political, social, and economic struggle. Nebreda is grappling with the eternal themes, but she doesn’t let their weight impede her from throwing it back – a “perrear y llorar” approach at the core of a lot of what might be considered Latin Club, where even the baddest baddie in the room can let her guard down safely. 

“Siento que en Corazón Club, you get to understand a bit more why I am the way I am. I can’t help it but be an emotional person who has crushes and gets hurt and cries and loves and laughs and wants friends and wants everyone,” they say. “I want all the things that every single fucking human wants. I don’t want to live en un mundo donde yo tengo que ser la máxima perra, la que no le importa nada. Fuck anything anyone has to tell me about how I have to be in front of anyone I like.”

The aesthetic compass Nebreda has followed has always played at the intersection of masc and femme. Donning a unibrow for earlier releases –“I wanted to be a Venezuelan classic ‘niño de casa con uniceja’”, they joke – Nebreda, who uses she and they pronouns interchangeably, found respite from societal expectations through an in-between gender presentation. They’re in a proud tradition of contemporary queer Latinx femmes in the scene – including Venezuelan electronic icon Arca and Catia-born upstart Yajaira La Beyaca – shifting paradigms in sound and in the ways their music is presented.

When asked to imagine Corazón Club as the physical space it implies, Nebreda is quick to discuss her music as being for everyone, without judging “a type of look” or “any one type of bitch.” They conceptualise electronica as utopia, and their music as a safe haven for all. The idea of the club as sanctuary isn’t a new one, but the positive perspective under it – a pushback against the constant sadness caused by the state of the world, from Gaza to Caracas – means everything to Nebreda.

"I think I was always queer, but it took me a long time to figure out how. I’m pansexual, but [I wondered] if that made me queer. Growing up, I didn’t like being subscribed to lo que es ser una mujer. Still, you want to be attractive. There’s a whole performance, and I don't know if I've ever been good at doing anything that I don’t believe in. My non-binary identity was a relief to me."

“Yo quiero abrazar a todo el mundo. Anyone comes to me and they fuck with my music for whatever reason – I fucking love you,” says Nebreda. “I think that’s my ethos as a whole persona. I want all the bitches: la que se sabe vestir y la que no se sabe vestir, the one that’s trying to be a better person and rethinking their politics. I want to use love as a way of unifying cosas. I’m fed up with all the fucked up shit happening in the world right now. I’m constantly trying to be a better person and acknowledging my own privileges, while also trying to usarlos para ayudar a otra gente. This scene is very gay, queer, and trans-led – I think it’s gonna stay that way.” 

The Latin Core scene Nebreda has found themself at the vanguard of is still in a nascent stage. It’s an exciting moment in the evolution of El Moviminto, a moment when the balance of power has shifted toward those who were for so long left out of the conversation. Musicians and producers like Nebreda, who honour and uplift their queerness, are the ones positioned to define what the genre looks like as the scene continues to emerge, cheekily queering reggaeton history.

With Día De Los Muertos (elsewhere, Halloween) quickly approaching, the “darks” energy is everywhere. The queers and the freaks and the goth bitches on the margins, no matter the season, find respite from societal B.S. in the dark corners of the rave, dressed in mesh, black leather, and boots. If Corazón Club, Vol. 1 and MJ Nebreda’s approach is indeed for everyone, it’s especially for those seeking to create new worlds in their sweat, the ones who play in the shadows cast by dim club lights.

“When you’re a Latina alternative girl, I think it’s very natural to be ‘darks’,” they say. “I like goth, punk, emo: when I was little I wanted to be a rock girl. It didn’t happen in quite that way, but I think I do understand my music from a punk lens. Yo estoy tratando de destruir muchas cosas, and I think a woman singing about whatever the fuck she wants is punk. That hardness intrigues me – but I’m still soft.” 

En Spanglish: MJ Nebreda on non-binary identity, su proceso, y Corazon Club, Vol. 1  

Te quiero preguntar sobre el show. I really did want to go, but I had landed from Miami, and you went on at 1:30 – by midnight, I was under my covers. Was there any standout moment, beside the guy who sang Ms Nina’s “Arepa” verse at you?

I think that! But the show was really good. Había un tipo vendiendo fake merch and I loved that – my first bootleg merch moment. They were faster than me! 

Did you play anything from Corazón Club Vol. 1?

I don’t like to play anything before it comes out – soy súper celosa con mi música. Unless the song is mastered and submitted, I will not put a snippet out. I’m just like ‘No one can know what I’m doing, no one can know what beats I’m into, no one can know what I’m wanting to get into’. I feel like people love snippets, but then don’t listen to the final product.

What’s your favourite song to play live?

I think “Calor” is my favourite song that I sing live because no matter what is going on with the crowd, cuando la canto it fits perfectly with any energy. It’s a shift for people: when I played “Calor”, I felt like people went to see the show por esa canción.

¿No has sacado un álbum completo? ‘Cause Corazón Club Vol. 1 is also gonna be another EP you release independently.

I’m considering this one a mixtape. I haven’t gone to the album yet. I did distributions for my first project [Sin Pensar], which I released on the label GODMODE. Pero for the most part, I’m my own record label. I’ll call something an album when I feel I have the proper backing to make it what I wanted to be. That’s the difference between a mixtape and an album, para mí – like an álbum es como a masterpiece of my work I want to share.

¿Cómo dirías que has crecido desde tu primer release, y desde Arepa Mixtape?

I think up until now, mi único motivo era crear art, hacer el mejor arte possible with the best people I can work with, becoming the best person I can become. I was just 100% focused in eso, not even thinking for a second about how I’m gonna sell myself to the world. I was thinking purely like a producer, pero a la vez tener ese momento conmigo, figure out all the songs I like to do. 

With your emotional side though, the music is always danceable. It’s not quite baladas arrebatadas.

I can’t. No me sale. I’m a drummer at the end of the day. I love to explore them. I love to connect them. Bass, too. I just like making beats. I definitely like a dance beat, pero no diría que toda mi música es to dance.

¿Qué me cuentas de Corazón Club, Vol. 1? Besides this being you figuring out your sonic landscape, what is this EP for you?

I think I wanted to make un proyecto that spoke to my sense of love. I make a lot of music desde esa perspectiva. Nevertheless, I don’t feel like I’m ever gonna fit into any one perspective. Al final, I’m non-binary. I don’t believe in traditional gender, but at the same time, tengo these needs of love. Soy una persona monógama. It’s like ¿cuál es mi sexualidad, cuál es mi lado de amor, romántico, personal, emocional? 

I’m seeing that kind of queer understanding of love in your work so much more clearly now. When did you come into your non-binary identity?

When I started making music. Just naturally, people I met would be like, “What are your pronouns?” I had a uniceja and I had a lot of moments where I was like “fuck trying to be this perfect-looking person.” I think growing and finding myself through my music has allowed me to realise that I’m non-binary, but I always was. I have had a lot of conversations with different non-binary people: this friend of mine came up to me and said “I’m non-binary too, but if I wore a dress I think everyone would freak out.” Being non-binary doesn’t mean I have to have short hair or whatever. I actually think a lot of the things that are “femme” are not actually gendered at all: expression, art, putting things on your face, wearing colours, wearing frilly things. Then there’s people that really don’t like having any femininity added to them. No hay como una regla de who you have to be, what pronouns you have to use: you can just be it.

La primera vez que escuché una rola de reggaeton fue antes de ser teenager en Caracas, en el carro de mi primo, que es super-hetero. When I came into myself as queer person, I still loved this music, and came to realise its new wave has a queer context that is so alive. You see it in neoperreo and Latin Core, where the big players are queer femmes and goths. 

I wrote this song “Feeling Like I’m Gay” after hooking up with a girl. I use the word gay very specifically, because it wasn’t lesbian. Maybe I’m feeling like a man. Gender is a perspective. I think I was always queer, but it took me a long time to figure out how. I’m pansexual, but [I wondered] if that made me queer. Growing up, I didn’t like being subscribed to lo que es ser una mujer. Still, you want to be attractive. There’s a whole performance, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been good at doing anything that I don’t believe in. My non-binary identity was a relief to me. 

¿Cuál es tu canción favorita del disco?

Ay no sé. La última [Así Nací] se trata de Venezuela. Las dos últimas, esa y “Tormenta”, las escribí en un break-up, llorando y todavía peleándome con el bicho, fumándome un porro, grabando y cantando. Como salió de ese flow, la canción quedó muy emocional para cuando estás con alguien y te hieren. The other songs are different from the two last songs.  Todas las cosas están ahí, pero, yo soy una persona who lets myself be en esos momentos. Se trata de una persona, una cosa, un lugar. En mi caso soy Venezolana, y a veces te sientes inutil con todo lo que está pasando. Es un soul feeling, como también es mantener la esperanza. 

On that note, your ability to connect across generations of Venezuela’s electronic underground, from DJ Babatr to Safety Trance, really stands out to me.

Cuando saqué “Feeling Like I’m Gay”, yo no sabía lo que era el raptor house, y un primo mío me dijo que era lo que estaba haciendo. Así me conecté con Baba, y me metí muy a fondo: él me mandaba vainas y le mandaba vainas pa’tras. Es así que salió “Frida Kahlo” con él y Nick León. Para mí fue muy lindo involucrarme. It made me feel like I didn’t fall out of a fucking coconut tree.

Corazón Club Vol. 1. is released on 11 November. 

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

The post MJ Nebreda is partying with her demons appeared first on GAY TIMES.

In this bilingual interview, the Venezuelan reggaetonero behind ‘Quítate La Ropa’ opens up about shifting paradigms within El Movimiento’s mainstream.

WORDS BY E.R. PULGAR
HEADER DESIGN BY YOSEF PHELAN
PHOTOGRAPHY BY JONATHAN IVAN 
STYLE BY JOSHUA ALAN CLARK

“Let’s do it even if it’s in the car,” Alfonso La Cruz says smiling. 

It’s 9pm in Madrid when I connect with La Cruz, who performs under his surname. He’s attentive, answering questions while balancing an iPhone on his steering wheel. The Venezuelan reggaetonero exudes Scorpionic charisma as he details a breakthrough year, one that included a hit single, recording sessions in Miami with Oscarcito, and several magazine covers. 

The 28-year-old Caracas native has been billed as “the first openly gay reggaetonero,” though queer artists like Spain’s Jedet and the late Puerto Rican trapero Kevin Fret were making their voice heard from the genre’s margins years before La Cruz’s “regaytón” popped off. Despite being far from being the first queer voice in El Movimiento, La Cruz is notable – perhaps ironically – for his stereotypically masc gay aesthetic and radio-friendly reggaeton sound. See viral single ‘Quítate La Ropa’ (‘Take Off Your Clothes’), a classic top 40 popetón complete with a booming dembow beat. The accompanying music video has male dancers in skin-tight jeans throw it back in two well-known sites of homoerotic desire: the boxing ring and the locker room. It’s not groundbreaking music, but that’s not the mould La Cruz is trying to break.

“A lot of people told me the queer community wouldn’t 100% accept my project because visually it’s not ‘queer’,” he says. “The reality is that inside of queer culture everything exists, and I represent a very specific part of it. My sound gears more Rauw Alejandro or Justin Quiles: melodic club reggaeton. It’s a bit more mainstream. I want to give visibility to those boys grinding on each other and making out on the dancefloor.”

I want to give visibility to those boys grinding on each other and making out on the dancefloor

It wasn’t always viral smashes for La Cruz, though he never had trouble finding an audience. Singing since age 12, he was soon opening for more established acts like Reykon during Venezuelan tour dates. He moved to Spain with his former partner in 2015, and took part in popular talent competition Operación Triunfo in 2018.  A glasses-clad ingénue covering songs by Luis Fonsi and Beyoncé, he was the first to be eliminated. Transforming into an absolute stud, he dropped baile funk-tinged track ‘Nadie te va a querer’ (‘Nobody Will Love You’) a year later. 

Despite the initial outbreak of COVID and the global lockdown that followed, La Cruz released a string of well-received singles, from tracks in line with his current sound like ‘Efecto’ to tenderqueer reggaeton romántico like ‘Fotos’ and ‘Desnudx’. A lot of these would be compiled into his 2022 debut Hawaira. The title is a portmanteau of two tropical paradises: the Pacific archipelago, and the Venezuelan port capital city La Guaira where La Cruz was raised. 

La Cruz’s world turns reggaeton signifiers on their head. He wears big chains and puffers while riding around in Ducatis full of shirtless twunks. Boys in ass-fitting briefs and backwards caps play video games together while La Cruz holds court smoking joints. This subversion of El Movimiento’s symbols, traditionally used to objectify video girls, and the way he dons the hyper-masculine aesthetic making a comeback among gay men stands in stark contrast with neoperreo. A goth queer-femme subgenre of El Movimiento, its wide umbrella encompasses artists like Ms Nina, Isabella Lovestory, Yajaira La Beyaca, Tomasa Del Real, and other experimental alt-reggaetonerxs whose work has made ripples from margin to center. 

“I loved Ivy Queen and Arcángel as a kid; Don Omar too – everyone from the old school,” he says of his early inspirations. “Ivy Queen really broke ground as a woman in the genre. Don Omar gave visibility to gay culture within reggaeton on ‘Muñecas de Porcelana’. We all see what’s happening now, but people who were paying attention in the moment took note: nobody really talked about it because it was another time.”

Every reggaetonerx has their sonic signature. Most opt to shout out their own name, like Pokémon (here’s looking at you, Bad Bunny). Others shout out their homelands. Early songs see La Cruz opt for the latter: Venezuela en la fucking casa. He last visited last December after five years away. Including La Cruz, most of Venezuela’s most prominent acts come from the societal margin. Superstar act Arca is set to perform in Caracas this month for the first time since her transition. DJ Babatr, the Afro-Venezuelan founder of electronic genre raptor house who grew up in the western Caracas Propatria neighbourhood, was only recently given his flowers. La Cruz’s positionality as an out gay man is a notable continuation, especially when Venezuelan society at large seemingly hasn’t caught up.

In February, gay influencer Marcos Caraballo, who posed as a corset-clad angel in front of Maracaibo’s Basílica de La Chiquinquirá, and his collaborator Nerio Bello Negrón were arrested in Maracaibo for creating “images that were perturbing to society.” The populist chavista regime has also recently embraced religious conservatism, clashing with LGBTQIA+ activists. Still, the younger generation keeps it pushing: local parties like Está Jevi – “I couldn’t believe I was in a space like that in Venezuela,” La Cruz gushes – cultivate safe spaces in nightlife, and reflect the newer generation’s alignment with where the culture is globally and nationally.

“Homophobia is something that we have to continue to fight ourselves so we can push our rights forward and maintain – if not further – our progress,” he says. “When I was in Caracas, I noticed a lot of the people from our generation are very conscious about what the people want. I’ve met a lot of Venezuelans who have changed my vision about my country.” 

Homophobia is something that we have to continue to fight ourselves so we can push our rights forward 

La Cruz’s enthusiasm is matched by his optimism for the future. With a new album on the way, one with a concept tying it together rather than just a collection of songs, he’s vying to keep growing as an artist. Born under the sign of sex, death, and radical transformation, La Cruz is open to wherever his path might lead — and wants to look hot doing it. 

“We change all the time,” he says. “This is the phase of my life where I make these songs, but I want to experiment with other sounds and keep enjoying the process. I’m in constant flux, baby. Sometimes I want to wear all black, and there are days I want to wear white – Scorpios are like that.”

En Español: La Cruz habla sobre cambiar paradigmas de la cultura gay en el reggaeton mainstream, pelear contra la homofobia, sus comienzos en Venezuela, y sus inspiraciones artísticas

Terminaste el año en Nueva York y después te fuiste a Miami. ¿Qué estabas haciendo por allá? 

Allá está todo súper increíble. La gente está apoyando mi proyecto, y estoy feliz. La verdad es que me fui con expectativas normales, y cuando llegué fue como boom. Estuve grabando con Oscarcito, un cantante venezolano y compositor que ha trabajado con Jennifer López y Marc Anthony. Fue la única persona con la que hice sesión, pero este año regreso a Miami. Estoy pensando si es definitivo o no, pero voy a estar trabajando full allí. 

¿Cómo has recibido toda esta atención positiva hacia el proyecto?

Súper bien, la verdad. Al principio uno piensa que es complicado decirle al mundo tanto y que va dirigido a un chico. A veces es bien complejo, pero yo disfruté el proceso con mis amigos y mis productores en el estudio creando. Nos centramos más en eso que en otra cosa, y creo que la gente está recibiendo eso. Nos la pasamos bien y hacemos buena música, que al final es lo que cuenta: el arte.

He estado pensando mucho en cómo se ha transformado El Movimiento. Cuando pienso en el reggaetón queer, lo que me llega a la mente es el neoperreo: artistas como Isabella Lovestory, Villano Antillano, Tomasa Del Real, y Arca. ¿Te localizas en ese legado de alguna manera?

Yo creo que al final cada quien interpreta lo que vive a su forma. Muchas personas de mi entorno me decían que sería complicado que [la comunidad queer] aceptara al 100% el proyecto porque no es visualmente “tan queer”. En realidad dentro de la cultura queer hay de todo, y yo represento una parte específica. Creo que mis líneas de sonido van un poco más al reggaeton de Rauw Alejandro o Justin Quiles. Me encanta Villana; consumo su música muchísimo. Mi línea de reggaeton se va un poco más a la melódica y a las vivencias de lo que pasa en la discoteca. Es un poco lo mainstream. Siempre intento romantizar las historias y llevarlas para eso. En realidad quiero seguir manteniéndome en una línea bien coherente. Al fin y al cabo somos personas cambiantes, vamos evolucionando y creo que en esta etapa de mi vida estoy haciendo estas canciones. Me están encantando, pero más adelante quiero experimentar otros sonidos, otras movidas. Creo que es parte también de disfrutar el proceso.

¡Me encanta que quieras experimentar! Justo te veo temáticamente alternativo de alguna manera — en el reggaeton, amor entre chicos en la discoteca todavía no se ve tanto — pero sónicamente tienes mucho más en común con lo mainstream del género.

Tal vez en este momento no lo estoy haciendo [alternativo], pero va a llegar un momento en que me va a encantar. Le quiero poder dar visibilidad a cosas que no [la han tenido], a lo que pasó en una discoteca entre dos chicos que se gustan tal vez y están bailando y morreándose. 

¿Creciste escuchando reggaeton?

Me encantaba Ivy Queen, y Arcángel desde muy niño. Don Omar también, un montón. Obviamente todos los de la vieja escuela, sabe? Ivy Queen marcó algo con el género femenino en la industria. Don Omar fue uno de los que dio visibilidad a la cultura homosexual dentro del género. Todos vemos lo que está pasando ahora, pero hay gente que sí prestó atención en su momento y si vio que estaba pasando algo. Nadie lo notaba porque eran otros tiempos, sabes — “Muñecas de Porcelana”, por ejemplo. Ellos eran mis artistas referentes. Obviamente el reggaetón era como para un momento puntual, pero también consumo mucho pop. Me encanta la música alternativa. Arca no la conozco tanto, pero Villana la consumo full. 

Yo menciono full a Arca porque, como venezolano no binario, ella es Dios. ¿Viste que pronto toca en Caracas en Cusica?

Me encantaría abrir ese show. Sería un sueño para mí. La última vez que estuve en Venezuela fue en diciembre del año pasado. Estuve dando un concierto. Ahí la gente es increíble conmigo y estoy muy agradecido. 

Me pone muy feliz oírlo. He estado pensando mucho en la sociedad venezolana específicamente, y cómo sigue todavía la huevonada homofóbica — pienso específicamente en la situación de “el ángel maracucho” Marcos Caraballo y Nerio Bello Negrón. 

Si te soy sincero, yo que he estado viajando y conociendo diferentes culturas y diferentes públicos, la homofobia es algo que tenemos que luchar nosotros mismos para seguir consiguiendo nuestros derechos, parar la homofobia, y mantener el punto en el que estamos o ir a mejor. Siempre hay micro-retrocesos que nos llevan a la mierda. Yo que estuve en Caracas, me di cuenta que hay una gran parte de la juventud que es consciente de los derechos y que es lo que quiere la gente. Mientras no le hagas daño a nadie, mientras respetes a la persona que tienes al lado y seas feliz, eso es lo que vale. He conocido mucha gente en Venezuela que me ha cambiado la visión de mi país. 

Mis panas que están allá y los de afuera que han visitado, muchos por primera vez en años, me han contado de la escena queer underground. La fiesta Está Jevi, por una.

Baby, si. Increíble. El día de mi concierto, no me creía que estaba en Venezuela. Muy bonito. Sé que la celebración de Arca va a ser una cosa que te mueres.

Me interesa también la dualidad de que los artistas venezolanos que más nos están poniendo en alto a nivel global — pienso en Arca, en ti, en DJ Babatr — son figuras que quizá sean rechazados por la sociedad general allá.

Lo he pensado mucho también, y es porque creo que desafortunadamente venimos de unos tiempos en donde el venezolano está desvalorizando su propio talento, la gente de su tierra. “A ese lo conocen en su casa” — ¿cuántas veces has escuchado esa? Cuando estaba empezando en Venezuela todo el mundo era “este lo están escuchando en su casa, este es un loco”. A veces los locos los llegan a conseguir; desafortunadamente tienes que irte de tu tierra para poder conseguirlo. Creo que después del COVID, con todo el movimiento musical que ha habido globalmente, Venezuela ha dado un paso en ese sentido. Se acepta y consume un poco más el contenido de la gente, y se le ha dado más valor al arte. Creo que el venezolano de cierta manera es muy incrédulo con sus artistas, pero es como todo: hay gente que es así y hay gente que es maravillosa.  

¿Qué me cuentas del disco que viene este año? ¿Cómo has crecido desde Hawaira?

Estoy intentando conseguir temas bien personales. Hice una gira de seis fechas el año pasado en Latinoamérica y América dándolo todo, y sinceramente yo me sentía conectado con las canciones al 100%. Pienso que si las canciones las hago con más de mi realidad, voy a disfrutar el doble cuando haga la gira el año que viene cuando tenga el álbum listo. Quiero vivir muchísimo para poder contarle a la gente cosas que nos pasan a la gente que bueno tienen experiencia como yo y se puedan sentir identificadxs.

Me encanta que te acerques a lo personal. Justo mi canción favorita tuya es “Fotos”, que es como más tierna. ¿Tienes alguna favorita o una que fue difícil de crear? 

“Desnudx” la disfruté el día que la hice en el estudio. Pasa con los otros temas que tal vez han pasado por muchas manos y no tengo la misma sensación, pero “Desnudx” fue muy rápida y hecha por mí. A veces uno está como en el peak de componer y dice “es el tema que tengo que hacer en el estudio”. Salió de forma muy buena. Tiene una energía súper bonita en directo por la coreografía: la sensación que me dan los chicos es que están metidos en la historia de “Desnudx”, y a mí me encanta.

¿Además del disco, qué podemos esperar de La Cruz a largo plazo?

Todos somos cambiantes y al final lo bueno es no quedarnos siempre en el mismo sitio. Ahorita estoy preparando un álbum con temática que siempre he querido, con concepto redondo. Hawaira son como unas canciones y ya está, pero para el álbum quiero hacer algo más conceptualizado, que sea bien urbano, que sea bien identificativo, que la gente lo pueda disfrutar. Y no sé, yo creo que eso es lo principal, disfrutarlo porque lo disfruto yo pa’ que la gente lo disfrute, sabes? Si no, no lo haríamos. 

A mí me gusta que hablas de la transformación. Muy Escorpio, tu: puro sexo y muerte, nasciminto y renascimiento…

En constante cambio, baby. A veces me dan ganas de ponerme toda la ropa negra, y a veces quiero vestirme solamente de blanco. Los Escorpio somos así: personas cambiantes.

The above interview was conducted in Spanish, with the transcript edited for clarity and select quotes translated for the English-language feature.

Follow @gaytimes.es for more Spanish-language LGBTQIA+ content and news.

The post Rising reggaetonero La Cruz bares it all appeared first on GAY TIMES.