The Mess is a column from journalist Richard Villegas, who has been reporting on new, exciting sounds flourishing in the Latin American underground for nearly a decade. As the host of the Songmess Podcast, his travels have intersected with fresh sounds, scene legends, ancestral traditions, and the socio-political contexts that influence your favorite artists. The Mess is about new trends and problematic faves whilst asking hard questions and shaking the table.
We’re going there. We’re talking about it. Even if things get a little messy.
The FIFA World Cup is around the corner, and that can only mean one thing: corporate greed running wild. Of course, the biggest sporting tournament on the planet brings out remarkable fan passions and beaming national pride. However, it’s impossible to ignore the profit-hungry ploys marring this latest edition. For the first time in the Cup’s history, the standard lineup of 32 competing teams has been expanded to 48 to sell more tickets, jerseys, and broadcasting rights. Perhaps most controversial is the decision to scatter the games across North America, with the U.S. hosting 78 of 104 matches in 11 cities, complicating attendance for international fanbases both in cost and immigration requirements. The puzzling move has resulted in a diplomatic crisis around the Iranian team, as well as poor ticket sales, which comes as little surprise, given infamous American apathy towards fútbol and the threat of ICE presence at games, which is repelling Latines, a crucial domestic audience.
You might wonder what any of this has to do with music, but there’s a direct correlation between the digital slop of this World Cup cycle and FIFA’s growing disconnect from the working-class fans that made fútbol a global phenomenon. In years past, pop blockbusters like Ricky Martin’s “La Copa de la Vida” and Shakira’s “Waka Waka” transcended tongues and creeds with phonetic hooks and organic percussion that were replicated in packed stands as well as dance floors. This included fans in the euphoria rather than selling us canned cheer—like Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” which is most effective when a crowd of thousands roars the chorus back at the band or team. However, the 2026 songs hit differently, if at all, foregoing audience participation or any consideration of how these songs are experienced, instead contriving Avengers team-ups better suited for TikTok activations than game-day chants.
“Lighter,” the tournament’s official theme from Jelly Roll and Carín León, is a slice of lukewarm electro-country more likely to soundtrack an SUV commercial than a tailgate. The sterile music video mixes vintage World Cup clips and shots of the pair wandering through an empty stadium, perfectly illustrating how wealthy execs have sidelined fans. Visual cheapness carries over into Jessie Reyez and Elyanna’s “Illuminate,” an EDM track that again resorts to archival footage and scenes of the women bellydancing in a generic studio space. Meanwhile, the campy Mexican iconography of Los Ángeles Azules and Belinda’s cumbia crossover “Por Ella” is rife with uncanny loops and AI-generated fauna, underscoring the lack of humanity in FIFA’s current messaging. On the flip side, the best entry of the bunch is Shakira and Burna Boy’s “Dai Dai,” which outpaced the rest in streaming numbers and memorable hooks just days after release. Though its video was also assembled with green screen montages, the wise choice to feature dancing children and greetings from beloved fútbol stars (actual people!) conjured an inspiring, universal kinship around checkered balls.
“FIFA music is horrible because the fútbol industry has grown distant from a sport that used to represent the masses,” says Colombian singer-songwriter Gato e’ Monte, a staunch hincha of Bogotá’s Millonarios who went viral in 2024 with “El Poema de Su Greñero,” a tribute to then-coach Alberto Gamero. The track is one of several fútbol paeans on the excellent La Dosis Máxima LP, conceived in collaboration with cumbia producer and fellow Millonarios aficionado, Felipe Orjuela. When asked what makes a winning stadium anthem, Gato e’ Monte draws from formative memories: “Fútbol is a musical experience. The barras bravas (or hoolignas), the murga, the drums, the party after the game—it’s all a reflection of a city’s sonority. These days, you have to be rich to attend a game, let alone the World Cup, so the music coming out corresponds to that vision.”
The most enduring fútbol songs succeed because they reflect the context of fans, paralleling the hustle of on-the-field heroes to their own. “La Cumbia de los Trapos,” the iconic cumbia villera from Argentina’s Yerba Brava, is a rousing ode to the protective power of wearing your team’s colors and how you can find refuge in collectivity regardless of social class. In the video for MC Guimê and Emicida’s “País do Futebol,” the rappers depict the transformative effects of sport on children in peripheral communities across Brazil, emphasizing hope where cynicism might otherwise fester.
“I was hired to create music for an international sports channel around the previous World Cup in Qatar, so I decided to go with something contemporary, like a corrido tumbado,” says Mexican singer Andrés Canalla, remembering the genesis of “Cuando Me Visto de Verde,” his heartfelt salute to the national team. Though the company eventually passed in favor of a previously licensed Justin Bieber track, the song remains a source of pride for the punk singer turned folkster, who earlier this year serenaded another of his beloved teams, the UNAM Pumas on “Rebelde Soy.”
The seeds for these songs were planted in the pandemic, when Canalla opened the fútbol apparel store Es De Época in Mexico City’s Roma neighborhood, tapping into the “blokecore” wave that has made jerseys a must of every hip closet. “The passion for fútbol shirts transcends whether you like watching the game itself,” he adds. “There’s an intrinsic fashion element because those garments used to be made with elevated materials in very high-quality workshops throughout England and Italy. Now reproductions are super expensive, even when made in Chinese factories, which major brands are trying to pass off as originals.”
The human element of fútbol cannot be underplayed, not only for the emotional authenticity of the songs or the stylish nostalgia of a uniform, but also as a means of crosscultural diplomacy. “[A few weeks ago], we played against [media outlets] El Enemigo and El Caído Reviews,” remembers Biri, guitarist in the Ecuadorian indie rock band Flix Pussy Cola. “Playing for Ecuador, it was my bandmates and the guys from [post-punk group] Estamos Perdidos, and even though we lost, building that relationship with colleagues was amazing.”
Similarly, the Argentine post-pop duo Linxes highlight the community outreach of local fútbol clubs as well as the opportunity to strengthen social bonds. “You can meet a musician at a show but really get to know each other on the field,” they say. “For example, the folks at Discos Laptra [in La Plata] have hosted games for years and we’ve played with Santiago Motorizado, Vicentico, music journalists, and other people from the scene sharing drinks and passes. We found the same experience in Mexico, where we’ve toured a bunch, and recently went to a meet in Chabacano [in Mexico City] with musicians from Odiseo and other bands, so fútbol can facilitate really special connections.”
FIFA’s slogan for the 2026 World Cup is “Football unites the world,” and history has shown that to be true, even when feuding fans clash in the parking lot outside the stadium. But overpricing and polarizing political plays are sewing fan distrust, with reports of young people buying fewer season tickets than ever. The soulless songs accompanying this era reflect this break, and disembodied AI bonanzas will never capture the agony and ecstasy of watching your team, your city, or your country fight to etch their name in history.
Every stadium chant is loaded with dreams of glory and a dash of heartbreak for victories that never were. Listen to the people, and the people will listen to you.