“Comfort Music When Everything Was F-cked:” Inside Chile's Thriving Trap and Plugg Scene

One quick time Latin America's booming economy and fertile ground for influential indie pop and neoperreo movements, Chile has become the center of the socio-political discord that has swept the region in recent years. Since October 2019, millions of Chileans have taken to the streets in waves of protests and civil unrest called el estallido social, or the social outbreak. Their goals: to dismantle the neoliberal policies of the seventies that fostered staggering income inequality, abandon the archaic Pinochet-era constitution, and draft a new magna carta to codify institutional gender equality and land rights for indigenous communities of the country.

In 2020, hundreds of Chileans were mutilated during the violent crackdown on former president billionaire Sebastián Piñera, who recently died while piloting his helicopter, sparking a national wave of schadenfreude. The hopeful government of student union leader-turned-president Gabriel Boric, who was elected in 2021, has failed in several attempts to pass a new constitution, fanning the flames of a far-right backlash that has engulfed political discourse. And the once-vibrant capital of Santiago now stands bruised in the shadow of burning buildings, rising crime rates and a fragmented population weary of insecurity.

An unresolved culture war, as well as the exciting consequences of the pandemic, have sewn melancholy and disillusionment into Chilean music. You can hear it with the fury of a rising post-hardcore scene led by Asia Menor and Candelabro, as well as the frozen techno K-holes of Alejandro Paz and Valesuchi. However, amid the primal screams and disconnection of the track, thriving street narratives have come to formalize the unwarranted emotions of a generation. The soundtrack to el estallido social has become trap, reggaeton and plugg made in peripheral neighborhoods, shifting the artistic status quo and pushing Chile's music industry into extremely lucrative territory.

“Chile was under a dictatorship just 30 years ago, so politics is about our music,” says rising trap phenom Akriila, speaking to Rolling rock from Santiago. Born Fernanda Sepulveda and originally from the Maipú region, she bought her first microphone when she was in high school and recorded early demos in her mother's car. She was initially drawn to mixtapes from Princesa Alba and Gianluca, circa 2017. But since he started releasing music during the pandemic, trap has been the sound of the zeitgeist.

He describes the development of the Chilean trap as “euphoric”. Early hits like Gianluca and Pablo Chill-E “Sismo” 2019 echoed the rhythms of Atlanta, while 2022's new money anthem “JFM (Jovenes Flaite Milloneta)” by Aqua VS, Pablo Chill-E and Julianno Sosa, reclaimed the pejorative 'Flaite' (or 'Ghetto') and cemented this new local idiom. Chill-E in particular is best known internationally for his collaboration with Bad Bunny's YHLQMDLGbut at home he is a trailblazer and hero of the people who fought on the side of the protesters in the first waves of el estallido. Later, he enlisted the folk legends Quilapayún and Inti Illimani for the harsh accusations of “Aburrido”.

Akriila cultivated her own blend of irreverent braggadocio and social critique on 2021's buzzy singles “XEKERAU” and “Monas Xinas,” as well as an imaginative 2023 mixtape titled 001. He has since partnered with chameleon trap tent poles Young Cister and Harry Nahand in recent months, he's been turning to a commercial reggaeton sound that has made crossover superstars Polimá Westcoast, Kidd Voodooand Marcianek. At 20 years old, Akriila is unconcerned with easy classification and wise to industry plays that equate sonic versatility with marketability.

“Yeah, I do trap, but I think of it as pop, the way Charli XCX, Rosalía and Tokischa work in certain genres but fall under the pop umbrella,” he says, teasing an upcoming album of more adventurous forays into reggaeton. drum and bass and acoustic ballads. “The trap is harder. It is about street codes, malianteo and powerful personalities. It's very different from something like a plug, which is romantic and dreamy. Trap is not about love.”

“We're on the other, more emotional side of the coin,” adds Posion Kid, founding member of Nvscvr, widely recognized as the godfathers of Chilean plugg. The trio consists of singers Poison Kid and Baby J and producer MLSHBTS, who have roots in the Renca, Padre Hurtado and Pudahuel districts of Santiago. The team came together the way plugg projects usually do: online. Their debut in 2018 New Bois it's bursting with genre quirks like auto-tune animations and Nextel chirps, and even a few features from Polimá Westcoast.

In recent years the outlet has grown throughout Latin America, finding sadboi idols in Colombia Shit girl and Mexico Mike anywayand confused, ridiculous provocateurs in Argentina's SWAGGERBOYZ, AgusFortnite2008 and Stiffyand Peru's Terrokal Boyz, Ghxst Ghxst and JordyLongSocks. And while Chile certainly doesn't hurt for disrespect – just look at the rowdy rioters KUINA and Guro – the mainstream is more aligned with R&B en español as well as silky works like Code and Bouncy Boys Band.

“Plugg became an extension of R&B,” says Nicolás Orellana, its editor-in-chief Sonido radar, an agency reporting on the rise of Chilean urbana music since 2016. “It's softer, in the music that helped younger artists and fans decompress their emotions in the wake of traumatic events like el estallido and the pandemic. It became comfort music at a time when everything was fucked up.”

Chilean trap, plugg, and reggaeton have all hit it big, garnering millions of plays on streaming platforms and hitting the international market. Young Cister and Argentinian trap icon Duki linked up for the romantiqueo hit “Dolce”, while Polimá Westcoast enlisted Colombian superstar J Balvin for the pulsating otaku anthem “Kawaii.” Meanwhile, Akriila just finished a Latin American festival tour with performances at Lollapalooza in Argentina and Chile, Estéreo Picnic in Bogotá and festival Ceremonia in Mexico City. Nvscvr are also touring in support of their new album Blouse, with spring dates in 10 cities in Chile and a string of shows in Mexico, Argentina and Peru. But growing, measurable success doesn't mean these artists are getting too big for their buckets.

“Middle-class people in Chile have always been in a hurry, and these are ultimately the stories we're telling,” says Nvscvr's Baby J. “That's the goal of Nvscvr's music. I sing about realities that I have lived. I don't need a character. I've been left broke and unemployed, and I think that speaks to a lot of middle-class Chileans who don't have the resources to move up.”