On May 11, Junior H seemingly renounced his narcocorridos past. During an appearance at the daily presidential press conferences to promote the Mexico Canta singing contest, he said that some of his past lyrics didn’t reflect positive values and now understands the responsibility of his words. This denouncement reflects a bigger shift in Regional Mexican music, placing the genre at a crossroads. On one hand, the Mexican government is banning songs with lyrics that talk explicitly about the drug trade and its kingpins from radio play, public performance, or uploading to streaming platforms, while U.S. authorities are revoking visas of artists who sing them. On the other hand, there is an undeniable growing, lucrative global market for this genre. Should it keep talking the talk, or should it comply and reap the benefits?
As one of the godfathers of corridos tumbados, this turn of events didn’t come out of nowhere. Last October, Junior was fined 33,000 pesos (roughly $1,900) and had to testify in front of Jalisco’s district attorney for playing “El Azul,” a corrido about Juan José Esparragoza Moreno, the co-founder of the Sinaloa Cartel. Before this, he had already given in to concession; he opted out of singing corridos at last year’s Coachella. This demonstrated that there are real consequences to participating in a lyrical tradition that has served as a pillar in música mexicana.
Junior H’s change of heart comes at a time when the genre is having an amazing moment. Acts like Peso Pluma, Natanael Cano, and Fuerza Regida have made Mexican music a valuable export. Most rising and established acts in regional mexicano have huge fanbases in the U.S., best reflected by Peso headlining Coachella in 2024. Many have found growing audiences both on tour and on streaming platforms in places like Colombia, Spain, Chile, and even Japan.
To get a better perspective, we spoke with artists and industry professionals about censorship and the commercial viability of corridos.
As Calle 24, Diego Millán has come under fire for songs like his Fuerza Regida collab “Qué Está Pasando.” Lately, the chihuahuense has been very vocal about censorship, addressing the topic on the track “La Sentrita” off his latest album, ETERNO, and posting his thoughts about Junior H’s recent news on social media. As Millán tells us, he thinks part of the genre’s current popularity stems from the lyrics and their frankness. “A lot of people criticize the lyrics, but I think most of them are pretty authentic. We Mexicans have a peculiar way of talking. We talk about our reality, and we’re not afraid to sing about it in a raw, direct way,” he says. “People might wince at some curse words, but it’s real; that’s how people talk at home. It’s typical. I think it’s up to each person to know what they make of it.”
However, according to José Luis Fernández, Warner Chappell Mexico’s A&R manager, which represents artists like Esaú Ortiz, Oscar Maydón, and Victor Mendivil, there’s a conscious effort to move away from violent lyrical content. “[Artists now] know they can’t sing ‘belicoso’ lyrics or use very explicit language all the time,” he says. “They are learning that popular songs need softer lyrics if they want them to go far.”
When radio play or their ability to tour comes into play, artists might also have second thoughts about what to sing about. “Of course, they want to have freedom to express themselves, but they are getting wise not to get on ‘papá gobierno’s’ bad side. It’s not good for anyone,” Fernandez continues. “The whole ecosystem understands that they are part of the same game.”
Andrea Flores, Warner Chappell Mexico’s A&R Director, thinks that artists, while compliant, will still look for ways to sneak subversive stories. She mentions Ortiz’s “Triple Lavada” as an example. At face value, the song is about selling drugs, getting paid, and spending it by partying and having a good time. However, the lyrics are shrouded in norteño slang that can go unnoticed if you’re not in the know. As a result, the song has more than 250 million plays on Spotify at publishing time, becoming a bona fide hit. Most listeners who have “Triple Lavada” on their playlists are not focusing on the illicit aspect of the words. Rather, they relate to drinking, partying, and sex, themes that have become a lot more common in Regional Mexican in recent years.
For Clave Especial’s singer Alejandro Ahumada, their driving force is making party music. Although the Salinas, CA, group put its career on the line earlier this year by playing “El Del Palenque,” a narcocorrido referencing “El Mencho” by Los Alegres del Barranco, the motivation behind such acts is more about challenging the norms to have a good time than making a political stand. “Everybody likes partying and having fun. Bad Bunny is the biggest artist on the planet, and most of his songs are about girls and having fun. Our new EP is called AFTERAFTER because that’s what it’s all about. Trying to hold on to the party and the good times. That’s how we Mexicans are; we love being happy,” he says.
Flores draws parallels between what’s happening today in música mexicana and hip-hop in the ‘90s, from gangsta rap to the bling era and a larger focus on good times, resulting in songs that could get radio play without facing consequences. “Making music that’s more palatable for a bigger number of people is a natural evolution,” she says. “This is a scene that thrives on fame, overcoming hardships, and making money. So naturally, this music will eventually end up being blasted by rich girls from [the affluent Mexico City neighborhood of] Polanco.”
In a way, lyrics have taken a backseat, as Clave Especial’s manager and co-lyricist, Anthony Calata, explains. “A lot of people tell us that they play this or that Clave corrido at the gym or on their way to work because it gives them the energy and motivation to push through,” he says. “It’s not so much what the song is saying but the overall feeling it gives. When you have Leo [Lomeli’s] requinto or Rogelio [Gonzalez’s] bass, everything’s mixed together to motivate our fans and give them something positive.”
Softening the lyrical edges also makes them more palatable for crossover with other genres, as Clave Especial’s Ahumada notes. “Corridos are no longer defined by guitars and a way to sing stories,” he says. “We’re seeing that, musically speaking, anything goes. You heard it in Peso’s album when he invited the choir that sang with Kanye West. Everything’s getting more creative.”
Artists like Nata, Peso, Óscar Maydon, Junior H, and Victor Mendivil have pushed the genre forward by implementing rap beats, rhythms, and cadences. Most have released songs with dembow, and experimented with salsa. Is the decentering of narco culture lyrical themes part of this generational shift? Flores thinks so. She expresses how this represents an opportunity for regional mexicano artists to rebrand themselves. The genre is still shrouded in classism, but once it’s beginning to seem more “upscale” and “dignified,” it could be marketed to another crowd.
It all points to the genre becoming bigger than it already is. The question is if it will remain attached to its past and still hold what makes it special in the first place, and if said sacrifice will yield superstardom or just a slightly bigger piece of the market.