Caracas Chronicles

When Venezuela makes headlines, it is almost always about political or economic turmoil. The stories of shortages, repression, electoral fraud and mass migration dominate international coverage, when there is even any. Yet behind all this, the country harbors one of the most innovative cultural movements in the world. A music scene that has thrived underground and abroad while still largely unrecognized in its homeland.

At the front of this phenomenon stands Alejandra Ghersi Rodríguez, better known as Arca. A Grammy-nominated producer, singer, and songwriter, who has undeniably become one of the most respected and influential forces in experimental music worldwide. She has collaborated with Björk, Lady Gaga, Frank Ocean, Kanye West, FKA twigs, Rosalía, and many more, leaving a profound imprint on the sound of contemporary pop and rap. She is celebrated not only for her genre-defying production, but also for her unapologetic queer identity which has carved out new spaces for trans and nonbinary representation in mainstream music.

She has also represented her Venezuelan roots throughout her career, with interpolations of traditional Venezuelan music and lyricism in songs such as “Tiro”, in which she mentions several states, symbolism in her visuals like the cover image of her collaboration with Rosalia, in which she’s standing with the flag, and constant criticism against the government from a progressive perspective. Yet, despite her acclaim abroad, her cultural weight in the country is barely acknowledged.

Her career is either absent or treated with a kind of distant curiosity by domestic independent media, and for many Venezuelans, Arca is still a name whispered in niche circles, not a household reference.

This case is not unique to Arca. Other Venezuelan artists, such as Safety Trance and DJ Babatr, face a similar contradiction: celebrated abroad but ignored at home to a great extent.

A community starved of platforms

Luis Garbán Valdeon, better known as Safety Trance, represents this gap vividly. In 2024 he had his first performance in Venezuela in 14 years. He shared the stage with Arca, DJ Babatr and others at a Boiler Room session in Caracas. Speaking about it last year, he described that night as an electric, rare chance for a marginalized local scene to express itself freely.

The event brought together fans from all over the country. While these artists might not be acknowledged by the general audience, they have dedicated fans. More than a concert, Arca fans saw living proof that Venezuelan electronic music could exist in its own territory. Nevertheless, such events are the exception, not the rule. 

Safety Trance and Arca, who blend reggaetón, club music, and experimental electronica, are a regular presence in American and European festivals and clubs. Spaces for queer and alternative nightlife exist every week in cities like Madrid, Buenos Aires or New York City. But these are seismic cultural events in Caracas, almost subversive in nature, and often overlooked even by Venezuela’s self-styled liberal groups.

Why so quiet?

There are many reasons for this silence. Some have to do with politics and economics, as you can intuitively tell. In a country where securing food, healthcare, or basic public services is the main thought in everyone’s mind, delving deep on emerging art expressions that can’t always blossom at home became an unusual practice. The ever-present nightmare of la crisis affects cultural movements, including alternative music or queer culture, to be pushed to the side. Younger generations look elsewhere for opportunities more than ever, and as the space for independent media has shrunk massively, it also has for journalists, writers and critics trying to spotlight the likes of Arca and Safety Trance for domestic audiences.

Another reason is cultural conservatism. Many artists like Arca have aesthetics that are intentionally disruptive, fighting against traditional norms and representing hyper queerness, which for the traditional and even liberal elites registers as incomprehensible or too radical.

Pedro Elías Corro, a.k.a DJ Babtr, and the raptor house movement face a different, but related problem. It is music that primarily targets and appeals to barrios, whose culture is often stigmatized by the middle and upper classes. To these, “popular” is often synonymous with “vulgar”. Raptor house music is still part of the lives of many Venezuelans, even though it receives little validation as a music genre.

If Venezuelans remain reluctant to embrace disruptiveness, whether that is queerness, barrio identity or something else, our culture will be forgotten before our eyes.

Something similar happened with Venezuela’s greatest rapper. Canserbero is a cult hero in Spanish hip hop and praised all over Latin America and Spain, but his status remains unacknowledged by many people in Venezuela. Ten years after being notoriously murdered, Canserbero should be a cultural icon in his homeland. But that isn’t the case.

So what is the root of this problem: the type of music, the aesthetics, or the communities they represent? Overall, it is all of these. If Venezuelans remain reluctant to embrace disruptiveness, whether that is queerness, barrio identity or something else, our culture will be forgotten before our eyes.

Still, even without the country’s constant support, these musicians are reshaping music globally. Arca’s influence can be heard not only in the work of her collaborators but also in the rise of a new generation of alternative artists from all over the world. Safety Trance has contributed to the reinvention of reggaetón, blending it with industrial textures, resonating in European and North American clubs. And DJ Babatr and Raptor House, as well as Canserbero and the rap movement, shook Venezuelan slums and groups all over the world, giving many a new sonic language.

Their collective impact is unmeasurable. They have expanded the boundaries of Latin music, mixing experimental, disruptive, and avant-garde sounds. Still, in Venezuela, it is barely recognized as part of our cultural heritage.

While Arca’s concert at Concha Acústica and the Boiler Room were massive events, media coverage from national media was still limited, even nonexistent for many outside the underground and queer collective.

The road to recognition

Venezuela is a country in which the traditional canon is still dominated by commercial pop and reggaeton. Anything that falls outside these genres, including rap and electronic music, is relegated to the margins. With the general consensus on music being very narrow, and the influence from Venezuela’s traditional and American media, many avoid embracing their culture. This rejection creates a cross-generational negative reaction to anything that has to do with our own country, or even language.

Many countries fall into conservatism in times of crisis. In Venezuela this has caused art and music to fully avoid innovation and cultural disruption. Furthermore, it fosters nostalgia and mainstream sounds. (e.g. “Me Rehúso” by Danny Ocean).

On the other hand it affects the country’s vitality. By ignoring Arca, Safety Trance, DJ Babatr and Canserbero’s we are missing the chance to own Venezuela’s ability to contribute to the global conversation on music.

Far from irrelevant, Venezuela’s underground music scene is among the most dynamic and globally resonant movements to emerge from Latin America this century.

While there is still a long way to go, there is still hope of achieving national recognition for many of these artists as demand has continued to grow in the past years. 

The Boiler Room and Arca’s concert were evidence of that growth. As long as crowds, mostly young, gather to show hunger for spaces where they can see themselves reflected, these movements will stay alive. Nurtured in small clubs or large venues, they won’t cease to exist. Even less when the diaspora continues to feed the rise of Venezuelan music in international stages.

But for Venezuela to truly acknowledge its artists, no matter their identity, genre or social class, it must confront its own blind spots. While the social prejudice that dismisses or even ridicules our own cultura popular, the homophobia that silences queer expression, and the inertia that prevents innovation remain unchanged, the country will not claim the full spectrum of its cultural legacy.

Far from irrelevant, Venezuela’s underground music scene is among the most dynamic and globally resonant movements to emerge from Latin America this century. To keep ignoring it is to deny a vital part of the country’s identity, and to prevent the evolution of our own culture.