Dillom is the voice of a generation. If you’re reading this from the U.S., it’s likely you’ve never even heard of him, but the rapper, producer, and all-around enfant terrible is leading an artistic golden age in Argentina and, in the process, becoming an unlikely political player. Though he first made a splash in 2019 with his pseudo troll of a Bizarrap session, Dillom’s 2021 debut album POST-MORTEM refined his transgressive language with a smattering of indie rock, RKT, and rage that upended the one-dimensional trap wave of the 2010s. This November, he heads to Miami to cause a commotion at the Latin Grammys, where his sophomore LP Por Cesárea is nominated in the category of Best Alternative Music Album, and rightfully so. Dillom’s bone-chilling rock n’ roll opera is easily one of the year’s best and most challenging records, meditating on the normalization of physical and discursive violence and how trauma begets more trauma.
“I make… music,” Dillom chuckles, speaking with Remezcla from the offices of his label Bohemian Groove in Buenos Aires. “I never felt like a rapper, or a trap artist, or a rocker. I rather think of myself as an auteur, of which there’s a shortage these days. Like when you go to the movies, and it’s all superheroes, sequels, and remakes. So I think that has earned my team and I a reputation as creative beacons.”
Born Dylan León Masa, Dillom is a balloon that buoys his surrounding artistic ecosystem. He is a member of the titanic Rip Gang collective alongside exciting and wildly different stars, including Saramalacara, Broke Carrey, K4, Muerejoven, Odd Mami, and Ill Quentin, all of whom operate under the structure of Bohemian Groove. The organization’s inner circle of producers (Fermin, Lamadrid, Evar, and Coghlan), sound engineers (7AMMixing), and even an in-house grunge band called Nenagenix are also masterminding some of the most riveting records out of the Porteño underground today. Dillom fortifies this network of artsy weirdos with strategic features, co-signing up-and-comers Marttein, SwaggerBoyz, mhtresuno, and Juan López while constantly saluting OGs like Miranda! and Viejas Locas. And a dazzling, horror-tinged visual universe conceptualized alongside creative director and filmmaker Noduermo has fleshed out the agitator’s 360 visions with textured forays into cinema, theater, and fashion.
Speaking of horror, if you’ve seen videos on social media of a madman waving a chainsaw on stage, they’re not clips from the Terrifier or some edgy metal band but of Argentina’s libertarian president, Javier Milei. Since last year, the economist and television personality turned meteoric political figure and dictatorship apologist has polarized Argentine and South American politics, mobilizing his followers into frenzied mobs online and IRL. Sound familiar? However, with the notable exception of Lali Espósito, the country’s fleet of pop superstars has remained dismayingly silent on political matters. Emilia landed in hot waters for her unwillingness to comment during a press conference while critics cast aspersions on the tone-deaf materialism of recent records from Duki and CA7RIEL & Paco Amoroso as Argentina faces its steepest economic crisis since 2001. Dillom, on the other hand, has gladly stood on business.
On “Buenos Tiempos,” Por Cesárea‘s definitive banger, Dillom details an uproarious drug-fueled bender that crescendos with a hook proclaiming, “El día que muera, moriré en mi ley,” which sounds eerily close to a premonition of the president’s demise. A month after the album’s release, he made headlines for covering rock-fusion group Las Manos de Filippi’s “Sr. Cobranza,” changing the lyrics to suggest Economy Minister Luis “Toto” Caputo should be killed in a public square. When asked why he’s broken ranks with his more lukewarm peers, a devilish smile creeps across his face to say, “I want to make history.”
“Though I don’t share it, I understand the hesitation in taking a political stand,” he expands. “Things have become so violent and polarized; I get why an artist wouldn’t want death threats for their families and themselves. But I don’t want to be a flag for the opposition, either. I am not a political puppet. Solidarity is important, and it hurts to see what’s happening in my country. So I might be in a privileged position, but my family and friends are going through rough times, and I’ve poured that into my art.”
I am not a political puppet. Solidarity is important, and it hurts to see what’s happening in my country. So I might be in a privileged position, but my family and friends are going through rough times, and I’ve poured that into my art.
On the surface, one could interpret Por Cesárea as a primal scream of Internet-era anger. The opening track, “Últimamente,” introduces a teenage protagonist who thwarts his mother’s suicide, lighting the fuse of inner demons that get progressively louder on “Mi Peor Enemigo,” performed with Argentine rock icon Andrés Calamaro, and the ghostly “La Carie” alongside Lali. Throughout each song, jealousy and insecurity fester within the character’s psyche. And while “Buenos Tiempos” offers the catharsis of a night out on the town, it then leads to the shocking femicide of “Muñecas,” paying off the album’s growing heap of red flags. Here, Dillom confronts his fans with the reality of gendered violence, shooting off textbook abuser lines like, “Don’t you think I know when I’m being lied to,” and “Did you fall on his dick by accident,” forcing them to gaze upon horror and decide if they’ll look away or sing along callously. Perhaps this approach will reach brain-numbed streamer youths more effectively than parody or preachy protest music.
“In my mind, POST-MORTEM is a slasher with humorous elements, whereas Por Cesárea is a psychological thriller designed to make you feel uncomfortable,” says Dillom, also citing Eminem’s “Kim” and Kanye West’s “I Thought About Killing You” as unsettling inspirations. “It’s fascinating producing those emotions through art. Like when you go see a horror movie, you know there’s a guy holding a camera behind the frame, so no one is really dying. It’s movie magic, and creating my version of that experience through art while reflecting on these scary inner thoughts that live inside us, I think that’s incredible.”
It seems the world is finally taking notice of Dillom’s jagged rising star. Last weekend at the MTV Europe Music Awards, he won in the category of Best Latin America South Act, and now his sights are set on the Latin Grammys. His 2025 calendar is already stacked with major bookings at Vive Latino and Tecate Pa’l Norte in Mexico, with more tour announcements to come. But as his name recognition grows, so does his instinct to swim against type. Por Cesárea’s polemic embrace of hard rock intersected with multiple cultural variables — from a major rock revival flourishing throughout Argentina to how younger generations deem it synonymous with curmudgeonly geezers and the genre’s long national history of political dissidence. Ultimately, Dillom is most focused on sharing his art authentically, especially as a citizen of el mejor país del mundo.
“There’s an erroneous concept that if you’re aiming for the international market, you have to be ‘universal’ or pick up the slang or rhythms of different countries,” he muses. “I think what’s most attractive to people, at home and abroad, is an artist representing their country. If people want to hear corridos tumbados, why would they listen to me? If I wanted to listen to tango, I wouldn’t listen to someone in Colombia. The job is to embrace the idiosyncrasies of your country and make people interested in what’s happening in your corner of the world.”
“I talk like an Argentino, and if someone wants to make an effort to understand me, they can Google it.”
