August is the cruelest month. This is the verse that T.S. did not dare to write. Eliot and, in his cowardice, raged at April, which, apart from being the month of flowers, contributes nothing to cruelty. August is whether you’re a fat kid, a troubled teenager, a disoriented adult, a divorcee living with his mother, or a bitter hunchback under a parasol while playing anywhere: Dime pa’ dónde vamo’ después de la playa If we dry off, I bring out the towel and again we wet ourselves, but on my leg. I’m going to give you a surfboard, baby. It’s Después de la playa. It’s Bad Bunny. It’s your life falling apart in front of a mirror.
Tell me what you play and I play it. We don’t leave it pa luego, no. The life lesson of summer is not the same for everyone. To that question about what you play, what game, some of us could only answer that nothing, to miss you, to forget you once and for all or to wait for you to leave your wife, this summer yes, you’re leaving me promise, miserable Summer, August, is the month of disappointments, almost on the same level as Christmas, and we are multitudes, but silent, envious and bored of television. If we manage to organize a transversal movement of people for whom the imagination of the month of August – beaches, friends, sun, perfect bodies, love, sex, night and music – is a pharaonic neon sign that says: LOSER, I repeat, if we lined up after these same acronyms, we could destroy the month of August, the need for songs for an always cruel summer. But we are disunited and content with the simple certainty that August also ends, and with it, his cruelty Until next year.
Obviously, Bad Bunny, here, is one of those beings who, cooler in hand, are on the beach all day, without getting burned and looking forward to fishing. Close to the beach bar and at night, dancing and surfing. His perception of all this is clear and meridian, as he indicates in the song, pure San Juan de la Cruz: Que la luz ya se fue y la noche légo,ey. Pum pum pum Afterwards, it is more confusing, as if he were a butane delivery man with diction problems, who dares to recite Góngora: vamo’ pa’l mambo or no vamo’ pa’l mambo? Gambedada in time of
Bad Bunny’s display of the song of the summer is always aimed at flaunting bodies and sex, showing, without taking into account the vast minority of human beings who will never be wanted on a beach or in a bar or a nightclub. There are guys who have to put together a movie, a Formula 1 circuit or be a king to be wanted. And millions who don’t have money for it. For when the law of the ugly, the geeks, the non generators of desire…? In this future and necessary law there should be a section on the month of August, on summer songs, on summer cruelty.
Bad Bunny’s song is a fairground UFO of those that glow in the dark and end up anywhere, in this case at a beach orgy of people with no pedigree. It was a success last summer. But if we stick to the song, there is a board capable of surfing the waves and mambo all night, without erectile dysfunction – yes yes yes – or romantic complications – hey, hey, hey, ha, ha, ha – , because the filter of love no longer exists for lascivious sex, and that’s it, period.
There’s a strange moment in all this hedonism when Bad Bunny realizes that maybe the girl lives in a place where his surfboard can’t reach – Mami, tu vive’ lejo’ – that it’s strange that Trias didn’t use the his last electoral campaign against Ada Colau. But Bad Bunny goes all out and offers to go find her – I mean, there is a night bus line, Trias – but not because the object of his lust is smart, good or funny. No. La buscarà porque tú tas buena y te lo merece’ ( tú tas rica ), and to disguise his bodily predatory spirit, he introduces the fish of the sea, alien to the song until this moment ( Al frente’l mar, es que yo quiero darte pa’ que se pongan contento’ to’ lo’ pece ), in an almost impossible fusion attempt between Greenpeace, water trap and folk carol.
Solved the TN Night, she is more than ready (Y tu estás mojá’), and the male, cocky (ready pa’ surfearte). The female, like the sea – gesture towards Botticelli -; the man, like Silver Surfer – gesture towards Marvel –. And as it usually happens from the verses of Catullus and Ovid, after the copulation comes sadness and “I’ll call you”, situations that most of the haters of August didn’t even have the opportunity to give a number of fake phone to anyone But at Bad Bunny Beach, longing is hot Red Bull and then the mess. Bottle boy on the beach. She has a boyfriend ( se cree Romeo y yo le vo’ a hacercomo Don ), then there is talk of adultery with another maiden in which, since God ( Dió’ ) forgave him, now she must forgive her husband, and finally, it’s all about what’s left: breaking hearts is fine, but I’m waiting for a friend (Stones, 1978), meaning that the night, all nights, always end well if there are cold beers left.
