Karol G’s Tropicoqueta: A Review

Karol G’s Tropicoqueta is undeniably a sonic triumph—rich, ambitious, and meticulously crafted across its 20 tracks by top-tier producers like Édgar Barrera, Pharrell Williams, Ovy on the Drums, Tropkillaz, and Tainy (pitchfork.com). It’s a bold celebration of Latin music’s diverse roots, successfully weaving together vallenato (“No Puedo Vivir Sin Él”), technocumbia (“Cuando Me Muera Te Olvido”), and even a mariachi-fused feminist anthem in “Ese Hombre Es Malo.” The production is tight, the melodies infectious, and Karol’s vocal delivery shines throughout.

If it weren’t sonically flawless, Tropicoqueta might still feel like a greatest-hits buffet—sometimes overwhelming in its breadth. Tracks like “Paparito” and “Papasito” deliver high-energy merengue-pop hits, while “Si Antes Te Hubiera Conocido” offers a lush, nostalgic detour into softer pop realms. However, the middle stretch of the album slows momentum, with songs merging into one another without standout distinction. That said, later tracks like “Viajando Por El Mundo” (featuring Manu Chao) and the final title cut reclaim the narrative, offering a sense of cohesion and purpose.

But even the album’s visual storytelling has room for critique. Take Latina Foreva: a song with potential for broad cultural unity that’s visually limited. Its music video centers slender, white-passing women with pin-straight hair—mirroring a narrow standard of beauty. That kind of visual exclusivity undermines the intended celebration of latina identity. Karol’s message could have been more inclusive with a title like Latina Foreva, but the visuals don’t expand the representation she could have achieved.

The collaborations breathe valuable context into the project. Marco Antonio Solís brings vintage emotional weight to “Coleccionando Heridas,” while Mariah Angeliq adds modern edge to “FKN Movie.” Yet in some cases, their presence overshadows Karol—another example of too much variety diluting her unique voice.

Lyrically, Tropicoqueta is energetic but occasionally shallow. Latina Foreva, for instance, is caught between empowerment and cliché with its body-focused brags. A tighter editorial eye could have reinforced solidarity more effectively. Still, when Karol leans into her emotional depth—the accordion-infused tracks, the pointed genre-blends—the album reaches its fullest potential.

Your recent work in The Guardian and Remezcla speaks to the pitfalls of tokenization and the wholesomeness of representation. As you said, “Blackness has sort of been commodified, appropriated, and it’s even been tokenized, but it’s not at the center anymore” harpersbazaar.com. That rings true here: while Tropicoqueta embraces a wider Latinidad, it sidesteps the racial complexities that could have made Latina Foreva a true anthem.

Ultimately, Tropicoqueta is a renaissance in Puerto Rican pop—an album that blends reverence and experimentation, genre and identity. A carefully streamlined version would have sharpened its narrative, but its strengths are undeniable: ambitious, layered, and full of cultural orchestration. When Karol trusts her roots, she doesn’t just perform pop—she archives it.