Sitting at the Intersection: The Power of Music with Jesús Triviño Alarcón

Jesús by Eric Espino. Courtesy of Jesús Triviño Alarcón.

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For over twenty years, Jesús Triviño Alarcón has been a leading authority on all-things Latino and Caribbean culture and media. A Brooklyn-bred Ecuadorian kid who came of age in the ‘90s, Triviño Alarcón found himself equally immersed in the salsa and cumbia of his household, as well as Hip-Hop and reggaetón he heard blasting from car speakers and corners. A true product of New York City, Triviño Alarcón was moved by music at an early age. Originally wanting to be an MC himself, Triviño Alarcón found his way to the pen some years later.

Starting his journalistic career in the early aughts, Triviño Alarcón was one of the first Latino Hip-Hop writers simultaneously tracking the rise of reggaetón for U.S.-based audiences, and writing about Hip-Hop culture. Penning pieces for Fuego Magazine and The Source, Triviño Alarcón’s career would take off after becoming the first writer to interview Daddy Yankee in the U.S., and penning a piece about Ivy Queen for Latina Magazine soon after. From there, he began writing regularly for Latina and countless other outlets, including Vibe Magazine, XXL, Essence, BET, and People, interviewing a massive canon of artists, like Karol G, Bad Bunny, Jay-Z, 50 Cent, and Carmelo Anthony.

Presently the Senior Director, Industry Relations and Global Latin at TIDAL, Triviño Alarcón’s wide-reaching role allows him to continue pushing the culture forward through interviewing artists, curating playlists, booking concerts, and championing the early careers of Feid, Anitta, Rauw Alejandro, and many more. A Webby-nominated content creator, reporter, editor, producer, and curator, Triviño Alarcón is a member of The Recording Academy and winner of the 2023 National Latino Leader Recognition awarded by the National Diversity Council. We caught up with Triviño Alarcón to chat about his upbringing in Brooklyn, sitting at the intersection of Hip-Hop and reggaetón, and his role as a vital lifeline in pushing forward La Cultura. Subscribe to his newsletter, Jesus Talks Culture.

A Brooklyn-born Ecuadorian kid raised in a landscape of Puerto Ricans and Dominicans. How did your upbringing shape your musical prowess?
My parents came from the tropical coastal city of Guayaquil, Ecuador. Guayaquil was always full of life and music. Being born and bred in Brooklyn with Boricuas and Dominicans definitely shaped my musical diversity. While I had cumbia, boleros, pasillos at home, our friends were blasting merengue, bachata and classic salsa. It’s all I heard on the streets, at Quinceñeras, and family gatherings. At the end of the day, I learned that we’re all Latino and we have more commonalties than differences.   

Coming of age in the ‘80s, New York City was ripe with musical growth. From Hip-Hop and reggaeton, to Freestyle and Cumbia, how has your multicultural understanding of music influenced your trajectory as a cultural commentator? 
First off, at an early age I knew all popular music had its roots in Mother Africa. With that as a starting point, I took it upon myself to learn the history. For example, I was a pre-teen in the ‘90s during one of the golden eras of hip-hop with A Tribe Called Quest, Nas, Black Moon, Wu Tang Clan, DMX, etc. But I knew if I wanted to fully understand the culture, I needed to immerse myself and learn the history. So, I went back and listened to Rakim, Big Daddy Kane, BDP, and more. You have to know the past to fully understand the present.

Jesús with his father. Courtesy of Jesús Triviño Alarcón.

Jesús with his parents. Courtesy of Jesús Triviño Alarcón.

You’ve been writing about the confluence of culture and music for two decades. What led to the "Aha" moment when you realized this was the path meant for you to traverse?
Truth be told, I wanted to be an MC [laughs]. But my rapping skills, which I showcased at a house party, were little to be desired. I was an avid rap magazine reader. The Source, VIBE, but also SLAM, the hip-hop influenced basketball tome, were all in my rotation. Then I started noticing the bylines with the Spanish surnames: Mimi Valdes, Riggs Morales and Carlito Rodriguez. If I had to pick out one article it was one by Carlito: “Vamos A Rapiar,” a feature story, in The Source. It focused on the history of Latinos in hip-hop. It completely blew my mind and changed my life forever.

In the 2000s, you became one of the first journalists to give space to (and see the importance of) documenting Latino and Caribbean artists for English-language publications. At the peak of his career, you were able to interview Daddy Yankee—the "unquestioned GOAT of reggaeton—for Fuego Magazine. From there, you were able to cover many of the great, from Ivy Queen and Luny Tunes to Calle 13, for other U.S./English-based media. What does it mean to have played a vital role in the expansion of reggaeton in the U.S. market?
I feel humbled and honored. While I was writing about el genero and interviewing these artists as a young scribe, I had no idea I was opening the door for them and our music. I just felt passionate that their stories, our stories, needed to be heard. When I see the genre’s success, the jobs its produced, the cultural impact it’s had on the world—it is simply a credit to all of us. I’m extremely proud.

Excerpt from “Concert Review: De La Soul, NYC”, by Jesús Triviño Alarcón. SOHH.com, February 20, 2002. Courtesy of Jesús Triviño Alarcón.

Excerpt from “50 Cent – The Best Bad Guy” feature, by Jesús Triviño Alarcón. SOHH.com, January 28, 2003. Courtesy of Jesús Triviño Alarcón.

Throughout your career, you’ve been one of the few Latino, Spanish-speaking Hip-Hop journalists who remained steadfast in cementing Latino and Caribbean history within the context of Hip-Hop. Throughout last year's 50th anniversary celebrating the birth of Hip-Hop, there was a noticeable lack of acknowledging this history. Why do you think Latino and Caribbean contributions to Hip-Hop culture is still largely overlooked?
There’s a lack of knowledge of our involvement in the early stages of hip-hop. Whether it was DJ Charlie Chase (boricua) of The Cold Crush Brothers, Lady Pink (Ecuadorian) throwing up graffiti pieces, or even later in the ‘90s with The BeatNuts (Dominican and Colombian), who were MCs/producers and members of the Native Tongue. As long as people in our position continue to tell our stories to the masses we’ll get to a better place—one where we are recognized and respected.

An authoritative voice within Latino pop culture and media for two decades, how heavy is the crown that comes with the responsibility of being a leader within the industry?
Thank you for the kind words. I don’t take my position lightly. It’s an honor to represent my people and culture to the masses. But the larger responsibility is to the generation behind me. Whether it’s upcoming journalists or young entertainment executives, I’m always available to offer advice. I didn’t have someone who looked like me share the tools of the trade. I always say, you have to send the elevator back down.  

Jesús with N.O.R.E. and Fat Joe. 2024 Billboard Latin Music Week Panel. Courtesy of Billboard.

As the Senior Director of Global Latin at TIDAL, you've continued to use the platform as a way to put Latin music on the map. Looking back at your early days in music journalism to the tables you sit at today, what have been some of the greatest changes you've seen in Latino and Caribbean music space?  
We’ve grown in importance and dominance. I remember pitching outlets reggaeton artists and getting rejected regularly. Today, outlets like Rolling Stone and GQ are covering Latin music routinely. That’s the greatest change. We are no longer just a one-off. We are the culture. There’s still work to be done but it’s better than it was 20 years ago.

 
From Bad Bunny to Karol G, the recent years have seen a global resurgence in, and quasi obsession with, reggaeton and música urbano. What do you think we can attribute to this recent surge? 
One word: hip-hop. Hip-hop became the dominant genre of the last 30 years. Bad Bunny, Karol G, J Balvin, and almost every reggaeton artist grew up on hip-hop. They’re influenced by the culture, the aesthetic, the artists, the cities. If you remove the language, they could be from Brooklyn or Compton. Instead, they’re rapping about Bayamón and Medellín. Every reggaeton artist owes a debt to hip-hop culture.

Jesús Triviño Alarcón with Mau y Ricky. Courtesy of Jesús Triviño Alarcón.

Much nuance is lost across borders and languages when speaking about Latin music. Many genres have become reduced or folded into one another, as is often what happens when discussing (or not) the intricacies of Latinidad. Reggaeton, músic urbano, latin pop, rap en español: what importance do genres hold for you?
I remember when I interviewed Tego in the early aughts. He told me, essentially, I’m only doing reggaeton because rap en Español is not paying the bills. Tego identified as an MC. That said, I say ask the artist how they identify. They are the ones creating the art, they should be the ones who choose how to be categorized. We’re living in a genre-less world because it’s the way people consume music today. You can listen to Andre 3000 play a wind instrument, Karol G sing a corrido, or Lady Gaga belt out a Broadway tune.

In a 2022 piece for TIDAL titled "The Revolutionary Pride of Tego Calderón," you wrote about Tego as an intergenerational source of Afrolatino pride. Thinking about him in the context of Afrolatino figures within the Latin music space, he's certainly still one of the most influential Black Latino rappers of all time. Since his coming onto the scene, there haven't been many, if at all, Afrolatino rappers as widely known and successful as El Abayarde. Despite its roots in Panamá by way of Jamaican migration, why do you think there's still such a lack in Black Latino and Caribbean representation in the reggaeton and música urbana space? 
Tego is one of GOATs of reggaeton and Spanish language hip-hop. Period. Despite, artists such as Sech, Tokischa, and the like, we need more Afro Latino representation. And it largely has to do with the way Spanish language media has shaped its coverage. Historically, telenovelas always had European-looking or light skinned Latinos as protagonists. If our own media is pushing light skinned images, then why would English language media not do to the same when it comes to their coverage of us. Yet, streaming and the Internet is the equalizer. If you have talent, the people will follow.

You had the honor of interviewing Totó La Momposina for TIDAL in 2019. Continuing on the subject of Afrolatinidad and music, the article speaks to La Momposina as an embodiment of AfroColombian pride, and a source of inspiration for rappers like Jay-Z. At 84-years-young, why did you feel it was important to profile La Momposina for TIDAL?
We have to honor our legends while they’re still alive. Our legends, especially our Afro-Latino legends, are forgotten. If I can offer space for Totó’s acknowledgement, it is my honor to do so.

Jesús and Álvaro Díaz. Courtesy of Jesús Triviño Alarcón.

At the end of 2024, many of us were surprised (and not) when hearing of the white American tourist who set fire to three businesses in Puerto Rico. Since then, there have been other tourists engaging in anti-Puerto Rican abuse and violence. Soon after, Bad Bunny dropped his sixth studio album, DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS: an ode to Puerto Rican and Caribbean power and resilience. From plena to perreo, the album is anti-colonial. Instantly, the world has fallen in love. What do you think this album means for Puerto Rico, the Caribbean, and its Diaspora? 
It means that Puerto Rico, the Caribbean and its Diaspora have a beacon of light and thy name is Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio. DtMF is an album in the same ilk as Siembra by Rubén Blades and Willie Colón or It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back by Public Enemy. It’s part party, and part sociopolitical poetry you’d hear at a slam by Last Poet/Young Lord Felipe Luciano. This album is a rallying cry for boricuas (from the isle and worldwide) to band together and act. And remember Bad isn’t only a messenger, he’s present at protests. He talks the talk and definitely, walks the walk. Whatever happens to Puerto Rico in the next 20 years, Bad Bunny will have a large hand in it. And it won’t be limited to his music.

For the first time in streaming history, DtMF has ushered in salsa and plena being the top streamed songs not only in the U.S. or Latin America, but across the world. Not even a month old, how has this album changed the game for Latin music?
Salsa never went away. It’s been present at our family gatherings and blaring in salsa classes full of non-Latinx dancers. But when you have the number one artist in the world exalt his homeland sounds (salsa, plena, etc.), it’s bound to make a global impact and spark renewed interest. Other Puerto Rican artists are already recreating salsa classics (Rauw Alejandro, Guaynaa) but I hope it goes beyond PR. I need a cumbia or vallenato album from a Colombian reggaetonera. Or a full merengue album by a dembowsero. Think about it, most of these homegrown Latin genres were started by disenfranchised communities. Only as they became popular were they co-opted by the bourgeoisie. Now, it’s time to reclaim our musical roots. Our music will be better for it.


One of the most important roles you hold is that of father and husband. What role does music play for you and your family? What legacy do you hope you're leaving behind for your daughter, and the next generations to come?
Music plays a huge part in my family. I met my wife through music. Long story short, I was shadowing DJ Enuff for a story, my wife was up for an internship with Angie Martinez. We met at Hot 97. Nothing happened. Fast forward months later, I met her again at a concert, featuring The Roots, Talib Kweli, Common, sponsored by the magazine I worked for at the time. A year later, I serenaded her using Juanes’ “Nada Valgo Sin Tu Amor,” to propose to her. Music has always been there for us. I hope my daughter is proud of her papi and everything he’s done for our culture. I legacy I leave for Selena Estrella, and the next generation is one of pride. Proud to be ourselves and embrace our African and indigenous roots. We were kings and queens before. There is no reason why we shouldn’t look at ourselves as royalty today.

Jesús with his daughter, Selena. Courtesy of Jesús Triviño Alarcón.