The Weekly Coos

Yandel’s legacy has been cemented in stone in reggaeton, no doubt about it; that legacy is why most times his musical drops are something to listen to, even if the final product is whatever. Earlier this year, that became evident with the collaboration tape with Feid, which I’ve replayed more than any other tape this year. It’s addicting; however, not everything will be like it in quality, like his latest album, ELYTE, where he goes through a musical venture that sees him flooding the streets with some reggaeton with range and sheer confidence, a mediocre one. Yandel crafts an album that is unabashedly one synchronized genre that showcases sonic history, from the old-school sound to the modern twists taken. The production only excels in making sure they land and give Yandel and featured artists the proper platform to command the microphone with bravado, but that doesn’t mean they do so. The production is a high point but sometimes feels wasted. Yandel relishes his roots while expressing historical love from inception to current stasis, and it delivers an outing that leaves you with some replay value but is more forgettable.

ELYTE can be lyrically repetitive, specifically in the cadences it delivers with the beats. It sometimes blends with others, finding little weight in the expected. Though some tracks have lyrical weight, like his place in the genre and status amongst these younger acts, he keeps it relatively focused on the genre’s core elements. Whether it’s the lyrical brashness of the sexual prowess and tension from his charms or how the music invigorates the mind and dancefloor. As a concept, it’s brilliant and doesn’t hang on its laurels for too long; unfortunately, it doesn’t have much innovativeness to keep it afloat past some nostalgic touches, like “Old School” with Farruko, which sounds like a classic Wisin & Yandel record without pandering to the nostalgia excessively. It’s a relative high coming from the album as we hear him distinguish between what feels classic and post-modern. But with some of the repetitiveness, some tracks can get sonically muddled amongst the rest, especially when it’s a retread of past sounds to keep it safe as he does with “Hablame Claro.” Alongside Feid, it feels more like a Feid track than it does anything else. It almost feels like the beats were wasted for an album when loosies could have maybe hit harder. It’s a disappointment.

Other disappointments come from the songwriting that can breathe naturally through the cadences and melodies of Yandel, but like some featured artists, not all are strong. In the last few tracks, it’s an up-and-down of forgetfulness as the content follows a similar throughline of the romanticism in the genre, as someone who has been delivering music for the longest, there is only so much it can give that you’d rather listen to more classic hits. It isn’t like the first few tracks that open the album, which come powerfully with what it wants to say. But then it starts to be more apropos with some of its flexes and club romanticism that some featured artists, alongside Yandel, are given the platform to deliver something rawer; instead, artists like Luar La L, Blessed, Myke Towers, and SAIKO, come off giving what resembles more of a fluid motion and less heart. It’s a detriment to the final product because with momentous highs that come in parts, like the opening track or “Con Co,” but it’s more safe than it is inventive. He wants to take it further but the music gets too homogenized and skippable.

Production is key, and we get consistent quality on the front and back end with some tepidness in the middle. The front end comes uproariously with some fantastic performances and beats, specifically with the tracks containing features. After a solid one-two punch of solo tracks, Yandel returns with a golden age-influenced banger in “Reggaeton Maladro” alongside Tego Calderon and the aforementioned “Old School,” with Farruko. We got some modernization later on with “After Party” and “Afro,” yet it’s far and in between. There is only so much the production can do to elevate the music beyond just feeling like new takes on old songs where the old songs are better. It’s why some nuanced moments like “Ganja” aren’t as impactful, compared to those I’ve mentioned prior; it’s living off nostalgia instead of expanding on it, but it doesn’t help that the songwriting isn’t that interesting. It’s also the case with “Amanezco,” which as a blend of classic and modern plays is safe without having the performers be inventive. It’s unlike “Maquina,” where it relishes with three different styles over a more brash beat. The production is only one element, and though I’m more positive about it, that doesn’t mean the final product is always landing similarly. Unfortunately, that product was lacking, creating an album I have little glee in recommending.

It was no surprise that I came away disappointed. I’ve grown more impatient with the genre as there needs to be more creativity added on varying fronts—we get elements of that here, but much of what you get isn’t as potent as the amazing opening run it goes on. There are some highs I enjoyed, but there were more lows that weren’t tangible to replay, especially when compared to the myriad of tracks we got similar to before, making them more forgettable. As much as I’d love to recommend one listen through, it isn’t worth the gambit, instead, I’d just say listen to what sounds appealing to you with the features, and maybe some solo tracks in the beginning and like two in the end, but that’s your onus. It was mine, and I left feeling whatever, like the Myke Towers album earlier this year.