It’s been seven years since Residente of Calle 13 released his aptly self-titled album, which saw Residente tackling unique concepts flowing beautifully and linearly; since we’ve gotten loosies, featured verses, etc., but the music has never left him. That becomes evident with his follow-up Las Letras Ya No Importan, which reflects an absence of poignancy of words to make a difference as opposed to what we see now, the violence—a reason Residene has delayed the album since the end of 2023. This notion speaks broader, especially as Residente makes a case for the opposite and allows himself to be as, if not more, vulnerable than before and express some sense of humanity while being political while also reminding fans what Hip-Hop is. He sees it as a transition between the music he once made and a future with more naturalism, pain, gravitas, and a proper understanding of what it is to have this talent and voice. At 94 minutes long, the length has little purpose except to dump a bunch of tracks, creating some pacing issues as he maneuvers through different content. It’s modestly bloated, but as he establishes a concept and direction, there is much to love, even through the apparent misses.

Residente’s perspective isn’t narrow, but what gets constructed amongst the fray is an album that wants to go in varying directions. He establishes a concept, but there are a few times where the music feels tacked on because it’s an embodiment of who he was in between albums; it’s why you have him eclipsing the finale with the inclusion of his 7minute magnum-opus “René.” Las Letras Ya No Importan opens to a voicemail from one of Residente’s closest friends, the violinist Valentina Gasparini, who has collaborated heavily with him and one of the last messages he received from her was around 3:13 PM, and it helps establish a sentiment that speaks powerfully through the song “313.” As Residente would say in an interview with Rolling Stone, “I think this album is a transition into what I want to start doing ​​— and keep doing — with my music…I have songs that are from three or four years ago that I put on here because I feel like they’re part of the process. But some of those aren’t the ones I’m the most connected to at the moment.” It is true since some loosies aren’t in, but what comes about are some heavily memorable bangers.

“313” is a powerful intro to follow-up the voicemail by Valentina Gasparini (that opens the album) as Residente’s sadness starts to speak powerfully. He’s at a loss and missing what Valentina’s presence means to him. To counteract the sadness, he gets Spanish Actress Penelope Cruz to deliver a poem about hope and life, making it known that despite her passing, they are connected by a thread; a thread connected to the hope that won’t dissipate with the moving of time as their presence forever remains. From here, Las Letras Ya No Importan fluctuates, offering music that carries multiple dimensions that speak to how Residente sees the culture and Hip-Hop today while lamenting and reflecting on his upbringing and career to be where he is today, but also not. With songs like “Cerebro,” “Problema C****n,” “Estilo Libre,” and “Ron En El Piso,” Residente exhumes veracity and a reflection of his being and person to encapsulate the kind of sentimentality and emotions running throughout the album. Unfortunately, the concept isn’t so high-strung and tight around the edges, leaving you with some moments, though grand, lacking full feeling and drive within the motions of the album—these tracks being “Pólvora de Ayer,” “Sin Lú,” “Que Fluya,” “Jerga Planeteria.” The former is too ingrained in content that contrasts much of the content, becoming less than stellar, while the latter carries an underwhelming featured verse by Nino Freestyle.

Though it is a concept that works beautifully and effectively for more than 75% of the album, especially when you grasp the fact that Residente is bombarding you with dated journal entries that feel like they got carved on his body and soul, you get significant moments that keep you focused and wanting to listen with zeal. “El Malestar En La Cultura” speaks to his discontent with Hip-Hop, further continuing in later songs about his disillusion with what Hip-Hop is and how he sees it today. With it, he delivers tangential tracks that remind you what real hip-hop is to Residente, and none more amazing than “Estilo Libre,” which features Big Daddy Kane and reggaeton great Vico C at their peak. It flips flops content and establishes more of a personable rapport despite a language barrier. So trust me when I say Google Translate will become your best friend here, mainly because his words carry immense gravitas you’d want to get from some tracks like “313,” or “This Is Not América,” which harkens to Los Macheteros, a Socialist movement from the Boricuas. There’s depth and an abundance of stories held together by his bravado to deliver immensely personal and vigorous works.

Las Letras Ya No Importan carries with it political, old-school, reflective raps, amongst others— Residente constructs a predominantly bloated behemoth that could have easily been trimmed, especially as it tries to remind you that all of this is under the guise of a concept that focuses on one’s push to leap after feeling drained. It can leave some reasoning on how each song fits within the ecosphere here, like the lavish apropos moments where the two featured New York rappers come trumpeting at full force, which fit slightly. Busta Rhymes and Big Daddy Kane bring this vigorous energy that encompasses the varying elements around them, specifically in the music, as they both come with their pure lyrical A game. Similar are some other features, which here are in abundance, and many bring a hardnose parallel to Residente’s talent, especially for someone like myself, with some artists being new to me despite their presence in Latin music. It’s the case for SDFK, Nino Freestyle, WOS, and Al2 El Aldeano, most of which mesh and give a further standing to the Hip-Hop cadences getting delivered; the same goes for most of the singers featured, even when the song doesn’t truly fit—i.e., “Sin Lù” and “Pólvora de Ayer.”

The production of Las Letras Ya No Importan is clear cut, offering a sense of identity and prestige throughout the 23 tracks you get, and much of it is what keeps the flow afloat, especially in some of the lesser tracks, like “Sin Lù” and “Pólvora de Ayer.” The musings of one-dimensional urbano flair speak lowly to the concept surrounding it, especially when you have these others, which push the music further. Notable producers that helped mold the album are Acción Sánchez, Evlay, Leo Genovese, Rafael Arcaute, Trooko & Vinylz, some of which have a history within the mold of the Spanish-speaking side of Hip-Hop, and the growth of Urbano music. Vinyz and Leo Genovese are two producers that stood out, but more so the latter as we hear Leo Genovese work with others, especially Residente, who has a dominant hand in much of the production. Here, Genovese establishes these unique and concrete sounds that help put together some of the more emotionally heavy tracks as a producer and Hip-Hop ones as a performance arranger, becoming a definitive highlight behind the scenes. 

Like the other producers, we have this wonderful and all-encompassing piece that delivers as good as it does. I was mesmerized on many occasions, but it isn’t hard to overlook some of the misses; they are right there. These misses made reviewing this album a little more disappointing because I wanted to be more glowing, but it’s hard to when you have an album as long as Residente’s. It made me wish he was more meticulous in the construction, offering something meaningful to reflect on as it continues through the motions. I did love a lot of the album, but there is only so much one can love; here, there was a positive imbalance, so that’s always a plus. Give it a few listens, and let me know what you think in the comments below. I promise you there are some rewarding aspects to get from it, especially his nods to Hip-Hop and personable/political reflections.