Bad Bunny Looks Back and Hunkers Down

Sure, it’s lonely at the top. But isn’t it also fun once in a while?

It’s hard not to ask that question listening to Bad Bunny’s latest flood of songs, the surprise-released album “Nadie Sabe Lo Que Va a Pasar Mañana” (“Nobody Knows What Will Happen Tomorrow”). It holds 21 songs and a quick snippet. But that abundance brings little joy.

With this album, Bad Bunny, a.k.a. the Puerto Rican songwriter Benito Martínez Ocasio, joins the ranks of the sullen superstars: figures like Drake and Ye, stars who have conquered the world but still feel unappreciated and beleaguered. Overwhelming commercial success — hundreds of millions of streams, sold-out arena and stadium tours, attention from every possible quarter — has only made them hunker down defensively.

It doesn’t have to be that way. Look at how Taylor Swift and Beyoncé now handle megastardom, savoring every moment (at least in public) while inviting fans to share the exhilaration.

Bad Bunny has a perpetually startling voice, a baritone that can sing or rap with equal power. It leaps out of radio or computer speakers; it carries weight and connects emotionally across language barriers. Throughout the 2020s, Bad Bunny has smashed expectations and sales records entirely on his own terms. He asserts his Puerto Rican and Caribbean identity and regularly praises his role models; he collaborates across borders and genres. Defying the conventional wisdom of American pop crossover, he keeps his lyrics in Spanish, making any collaborators cross over to him. His new songs proclaim that he’s well aware of his status as a trailblazer — but that it doesn’t give him much comfort.

The album opens with “Nadie Sabe,” a six-minute manifesto of superstar isolation set to brooding orchestral chords, with Bad Bunny eventually joined by a full choir. He declares himself “the biggest star in the entire world”; he also warns that “No one knows, no, what it feels like to feel alone in front of 100,000 people.” And for all his well-earned self-confidence, the haters still get under his skin. “I’m not at my peak, now I’m in my prime,” he sings. “That’s why they’re praying that I crash.”

Connect that, of course, to grievance-powered politics and social media algorithms that stoke conflict and encourage pointless beefs. Musicians now market themselves in that environment and have to deal, one way or another, with the comments. But musicians also have different, nonverbal outlets. They have the visceral joys of rhythm. They have the intuitive responses to a harmony or a vocal tone. They have the freedom, especially in the digital era, to make startling sonic leaps with a mouse click.