CRRDR is living in the fast lane. Over the course of two Zoom calls, the Colombian races through ideas encompassing music, immigration, and internet anarchy. His irreverent tunes are just as turbo-charged, melding fast-thumping electronic genres like nightcore and gabber with a panoply of Latin American rhythms that have coalesced into Latincore, a sub-category of the definition-elusive movement Latin Club. He understands that speed can be an artistic signature and a brand, tapped by the likes of Nathy Peluso, MJ Nebreda, and Chocolate Remix, and even sampling the iconic chirp of the Warner Bros. Roadrunner cartoon for his DJ tag. And yet, CRRDR also creates grounded, intentional meditations on how we experience the world today, holding space for the terminally online but also encouraging listeners to experience human contact on the dance floor.
His new album Latincore Legend infuses rave bedlam and meme silliness with overarching themes of immigration and cultural hybridity. On “Luigi Mangione,” a jolt of dembow with a paranoid video to match, Mexico City perreo maven Chezter boasts about channeling the CEO vanquisher’s anti-capitalist sex appeal. For “Te Gusta Mi Bachata,” he teams up with Venezuelan producer L’Miranda to throw a colmadón rave, injecting Dominican staccato strings with a vocal stim from Boricua reggaeton pioneers The Noise. As for his latest releases, “Spanglish” and “Hey Bae,” he runs the gamut of house, Jersey club, jerk, and reggaeton, creating a transcontinental sonic experience and flipping the script on linguistic hegemony.
“You want to make these songs accessible to other audiences without losing the essence of where they come from,” says CRRDR, reflecting on the layered promise of polyglot music. “There is an expectation [in the Global North] that we’ll adapt to English, often not realizing that other cultures and realities exist. So much about Latincore is showing myself and where I come from, as well as the work of other producers and their worlds. The album features people from Colombia, Mexico, Venezuela, Chile, Ecuador, Puerto Rico, and more, representing many ways of being Latino, as well as how we connect as immigrants away from our homelands.”
Hailing from the city of Bucaramanga but forged in the metropolitan chaos of Bogotá, CRRDR is the abbreviated alias of 26-year-old Francisco Corredor, who found his tribe in the bowels of the capital’s electronic underground. He reminisces fondly about sneaking into drum&bass parties as a teenager, his obsession with EDM god Steve Aoki, and early production forays in hip-hop and experimental beatmaking. He transitioned to club music because he wanted to perform his creations, nourishing his sonic arsenal at techno, trance, and gabber raves that found a suitable habitat in Bogotá’s cold and dreary Andean climate. Eventually, the dominance of imported sounds began to raise concerns.
“These parties were a great education about what was happening in the world,” adds CRRDR. “But after a while, 4/4 beats started to feel repetitive. I was curious about what we had to offer [in Colombia], but there was prejudice from the techno scene towards guaracha and other Latin rhythms entering those spaces. They saw European sounds as the standard, so anything from here was excluded.” Not jiving with this rigidity, CRRDR felt drawn to queer, alternative parties like Putivuelta, which he says, “resignified guaracha from the sound of macho narco culture into Latin American club music outside social stigma.”
CRRDR found a kindred spirit in the DJ and producer Aleroj, who was making waves with the Perro Perro collective and blenderific parties like “Techno de Mamá y Perreo de la Abuela.” The pair shared music tastes and social media algorithms, and in 2022, they began throwing parties at scene haunts Casa ZEB and Radio 57. They gradually connected with fellow producers 2AT and Nacidmiento, soon formalizing their association as the label MUAKK. It’s this writer’s opinion that Latincore’s purest expression can be heard on CRRDR and Aleroj’s joint 2023 LP Godfathers of Uwuaracha, which encapsulated the melange of gabber kicks, guaracha cheek, and Internet weebiness that has since become their trademark. But as per their rule-breaking ethos, Latincore is hardly confined to a specific sound, aesthetic, or medium.
Edits and remixes have been crucial to the proliferation of Latincore. 2AT referenced favorites from The Pixies and Mac DeMarco for Lat-emo bangers that found long legs on social media, while Aleroj went controversially viral after Russian DJ Nina Kraviz played his guaracha remix of DJ XNX’s techno track, “Bandito.” CRRDR might be the most prolific in this regard, with reworks of Ralphie Choo and Arca scattered across his various profiles. However, trouble inevitably reared its head after his song “Traaa,” which sampled the Dominican dembow artist Nfasis, scored a Netflix sync deal. A licensing dispute ensued, and unable to fork over the sizable sum to legally use the sample, the track was scrubbed from the internet.
“Bootlegging and sampling culture is fun, but also about resistance and going against the system,” says CRRDR, reflecting on the wisdom gained from his legal kerfuffle. “It’s punk in essence, but now I want to be more conscientious about how I sample, while also advancing my own ideas.”
“Bootlegging and sampling culture is fun, but also about resistance and going against the system.”
While many tracks on Latincore Legend were excavated from CRRDR’s extensive, innovative craftsmanship and collaboration paved his path forward. One of his recurring cohorts is animaldistinto, the pseudonym of Colombian pop producer Julián Bernal (Elsa y Elmar, Esteman, Bratty), who brings to life the effervescent salsa keys of “Mienten” and warbling vallenato accordion on “Chamuco.” CRRDR also waltzes through the super fast reggaeton variant, doble paso, tapping the Puerto Rican MC Whisdrop for the Playero-reminiscent “La Bati,” and Mexican producer EZYA (Yeyo, Doony Graff) for the addictive licuachela anthem, “Sube y Baja.” This is just the tip of the 25-track iceberg, with a dizzying guest list that also includes raptor house vixen MJ Nebreda, foundational neoperreo producer Lizz, and DJ and sound design artist Entrañas.
Keeping with the spirit of change, CRRDR is now contemplating a future driven by more than career ambition. Though he relocated to Berlin nearly two years ago to boost networking and touring opportunities, an Andean homecoming looms in the horizon. He speaks fondly of the kinship he’s built with Berlin’s Latin American diaspora, shouting out L’Miranda of DEPRERREO and Paulah of NOFUTURE, essential collectives fostering community on European dance floors. But living in the fast lane takes its toll on everyone, and CRRDR is ready to run down new avenues.
“This album is for letting go of personal and professional baggage,” he says. “More than industry aspirations, this moment is about reconnecting with myself and really considering what I want. This lifestyle is unsustainable, and perhaps I can evolve my sound and trajectory into something deeper and more stable. I don’t really know where the goal post is at the moment, but I want to go back to Colombia and sort out my purpose.”
Latincore Legend is out now.
