A familiar prejudice often surfaces whenever traditional songwriters talk about modern urban genres. For decades, traditionalists have treated reggaetón with a certain condescension, dismissing it as loud, repetitive party music defined strictly by its beat. If a track is driven by heavy bass and aimed at a packed club, the assumption is that the writing must be shallow. Jorge Drexler has never accepted that divide. The Uruguayan songwriter, whose own work has earned him major standing and Latin Grammy recognition, has consistently pushed back against the skepticism that surrounds the genre. Rather than treating dance music as an artistic dead end, Drexler has stepped up to defend the writing behind the rhythm, urging audiences to hear the craft that skeptics routinely ignore.
Drexler contends that reggaetón should be judged with the same critical seriousness that listeners apply to older songwriting traditions. The tendency to discount the genre usually stems from a basic musical bias, where listeners mistake the functional purpose of a song for a lack of intellectual effort. A track created to make people dance is not stripped of verbal storytelling by default. Drexler points out that the skill involved in arranging words and developing narratives does not vanish simply because the tempo is high or the percussion is loud. By focusing only on the beat, traditional listeners miss the intricate work that goes into the lyrics themselves.
To make his case concrete, Drexler highlighted Bad Bunny, explicitly praising the Puerto Rican superstar as a great lyricist. It is a striking endorsement coming from someone with Drexler's background in introspective composition. Bad Bunny is globally celebrated, but media coverage and public chatter usually revolve around his persona, his record-breaking cultural reach, and his ability to craft anthemic hooks. Drexler looks past that surface noise and directs attention to the mechanics of Bad Bunny's writing. In Drexler's view, the Puerto Rican artist operates as a genuinely accomplished writer whose work relies on inventive phrasing, sharp wordplay, and rich, localized references that demand closer reading.
That perspective cuts right to the heart of how audiences evaluate authenticity in music. For a long time, an unspoken hierarchy has dictated that acoustic instruments and understated vocal performances signal real depth, while electronic arrangements and urban rhythms belong to a disposable commercial tier. Drexler makes clear that this boundary is largely artificial. Genuine songwriting craft does not require an acoustic guitar, nor does it disappear in the presence of a club beat. By pointing listeners toward the poetic choices within reggaetón, Drexler is not asking anyone to lower their standards, but rather to abandon outdated biases and respect the storytelling happening in plain sight.
