With a low voice and minimalist syncopation, Wilfredo “Willy” Aldarondo sings lament. “The love of my life left New York / My mother followed my aunt, to Florida they went / packed my bags, now it’s my turn / The plane landed, and no one applauded.”
These are the opening lines of “Tierra,” the lead single from Puerto Rican band Chuwi’s latest EP of the same name. Founded in 2020 in the northwestern coastal town of Isabela, Chuwi consists of Willy, sister Lorén Aldarondo, brother Wester Aldarondo and friend Adrián López. Describing the band’s sound is a challenge in itself. Is it Latin jazz, indie rock, urbano, tropical fusion or something completely different? The answer to all those questions is “yes”.
Over the past two years, the quartet’s popularity has grown among listeners and industry peers. Part of the reason is that they seem to have taken on a role that is all too common in Latin American music: a band whose music reflects the activist outlook of their generation.
The song, “Tierra,” alludes unmistakably to one of Puerto Rico’s most contemporary anxieties. In 2019, the Puerto Rico legislature passed Act 60, which provided generous tax breaks to foreign investors who moved to the islands and became residents.
The result has led to what critics call a nationwide gentrification effort at the expense of locals in their own neighborhoods. A series of properties have been purchased and turned into short-term rentals, thereby causing housing costs to skyrocket; Meanwhile, the benefits promised by the law’s proponents have yet to materialize. Between the disastrous Hurricane María in 2017 and the earthquake and pandemic in 2020, population decline was rapid and severe, causing even more dire consequences.
Chuwi’s lyrics resonated with Puerto Ricans frustrated by what was happening around them. Puerto Rico has a long history of musical groups wearing their political leanings on their sleeves. Groups such as Fiel a La Vega, Cultura Profética and El Hijo de Borikén followed the standard set by Argentine folk rock and Chicano folk music, among other influences. Reggatón was even called “perreo combativo” during the 2019 protests on the island that forced then-governor Ricardo Rosselló to resign.
But Chuwi is candid about how, despite appearances, they don’t consciously identify as an activist band, even if their songs tend to be closer to the zeitgeist of political discussion on the island. Instead, the band sees themselves as artists who put their emotions on the page rather than preaching a specific ideology. “We write about what weighs us down and we’re used to [music] as an escape,” Willy said. “That’s how we started. We just wanted a way to express ourselves about things that made us uncomfortable or things we loved.”
Another track on the EP, the merengue-tinged “Mundi,” transports listeners into the tanned skin of the real Mundi. This African savannah elephant has lived alone for 35 years at the Dr. Juan A. Rivero Zoo in Puerto Rico, less than an hour from nearby Isabela in Mayagüez. The elephant’s plight became a controversial issue among local animal rights activists, and Mundi was eventually moved in 2023 to an elephant sanctuary in Georgia.
For Chuwi, the song came about because they were near the zoo, which they recalled visiting on field trips as children. It also pays homage to the song their mother used to play: “Laika” by the 80s Spanish pop band Mecano, about a Soviet space dog sent on a mission doomed solo in space in 1957.
“We wanted the song to come true so we investigated [Mundi’s backstory] but at the same time, it has to be catchy and if people pay attention to the lyrics they will also be emotionally hurt,” laughs Lorén, who is also the band’s regular lead singer.
One of their most impressive songs is “Guerra”, a Dominican palo that infuses frenetic Afro-Caribbean rhythms, creating an auditory experience that mimics the enveloping chaos of its namesake (” guerra” means “war”). While war has indeed been top news for the past seven months, this is another case where their muse is working subconsciously.
“We live in this world, we’re exposed to these things, we’re passionate about certain things in our personal lives, musically. [it bleeds in]”, Loren explained.
Their eclectic style and seriousness attracted the attention of larger artists. For example, Grammy-winning producer Eduardo Cabra of the iconic rap duo Calle 13 and artists like Buscabulla (“We call them mom and dad,” Lorén says) gave advice to they were still in their infancy as a young band.
Watching them live revealed another reason why Chuwi connected so much with the audience. Loren’s voice is mesmerizing as she croons and moans in sweet tones, and Adrián’s percussion easily makes one’s blood rush and emotions run high. In Loren’s case, she delves into old teachings from her days singing in church to fully engage listeners in the shows she and her band members put on.
“I rely a lot on emotion in my performances. If I don’t feel it, the audience won’t feel it. In church, they teach us that when you sing something, you’re singing give God, and if people see your authenticity, you will inspire them to sing praises to God too,” she said. “If you are vulnerable, they will be vulnerable. If I’m not authentic, how can I expect the crowd to connect with the music we’re making?”
And while they hope their next projects, including the debut LP they’ve been hard at work on, will showcase more of what they’re capable of lyrically and musically, they won’t. afraid to speak from the heart, even if it might tag them as protest artists.
“I think it means our music is reaching people,” Wester said. What we feel is not just between us.” “Seeing people sympathize with that makes us feel like we’re not alone. I feel okay being seen that way.”
Juan J. Arroyo is a Puerto Rican freelance music journalist. Since 2018, he has written for PS, Remezcla, Rolling Stone and Pitchfork. His focus is on expanding the landscape of Latin stories and making Latin culture – especially Caribbean Latin culture – more visible in the mainstream.
