Ramtin Arablui

And in that way, his music is... An archive of the current moment that we're living in, and we can use it to sort of understand this moment.

As a musician myself, I love this idea of thinking about music as both an archive and a historical record or soundtrack to history.

And so for today's episode of ThruLine, all about Bad Bunny, we're going to leave the politics surrounding the Super Bowl behind.

And instead, we're going to lean into that idea and look at what Bad Bunny's music tells us about Puerto Rico's history and vice versa.

And we'll explore both sides of his meteoric success, how Bad Bunny has become a voice of a generation in crisis, and what it means when resistance becomes profitable.

Before we get started, let me be the first to pedir disculpas, say sorry, to all the conejos and diehard Bad Bunny fans out there.

We've only got an hour here, and there's going to be some stuff we don't get to.

Think of this episode as a Bad Bunny mixtape, through line style.

So don't press skip on that next track, and stay with us as we dive into the life and music of El Conejo Malo and the island that made him.

Hi, this is Megan from Rhode Island, and you're listening to ThruLine.

Parte una.

La isla donde nací.

The island where I was born.

My first impression of him was in the passenger seat of his manager's car when I went to meet up with him in the garage where he kept his Lambo.

And he turned around from the front seat wearing a mask and said, what's up?

He looked like any Puerto Rican boy I would meet who's, you know, my little sister's age.

This is Karina Del Valle-Shorsky.

She's a freelance writer, translator, and researcher.

My connection to Bad Bunny is that my feature debut at New York Times Magazine was writing a profile about Bad Bunny in 2020.

For that profile, Karina got to spend time with Bad Bunny in Puerto Rico.