“The most significant discourse on this album is my personal fight—the pressures of living life as a woman from South America,” Cazzu tells Apple Music. This struggle is present throughout Nena Trampa, revealing the Argentinian born Julieta Emilia Cazzuchelli as one of the most chameleonic artists in contemporary Latin music. She sounds furious and defiant on opening track “Jefa,” spitting out syllables to the beat of drill. But on the sugary reggaetón “Isla Velde,” she transforms into a pop-wise diva, her delivery silky and seductive. Nena Trampa, then, is a complex collection of concurrent feelings and attitudes, in which she explores the sonic parameters of trap, dancehall, and even South American milonga on the moving “Piénsame,” all while testing her own self-assurance as an artist.
“I’ve had the experience of listening to my songs with friends and seeing how a couple of words or a specific segment can make them cry,” she says. “We’re talking about trap music, but the same song can also transport you to a place that’s gothic and infernal.” Below, Cazzu guides us through the album, track by track.
“Jefa”
“It’s the first track I recorded for the album. The idea was to start with a bang and raise the standards. Rhythmically, it has very little to do with the Latin structures that we’re used to because drill is more free-form. If you think that trap follows no rules, it’s actually drill that doesn’t have any. It’s difficult to do drill well because you have to improvise where to drop your voice—there’s nothing in the beat itself to give you direction. People who listen to my music know that while the world follows a specific direction, Cazzu is going the other way, against the current.”
“Nena Trampa”
“From the very beginning, the album has Andean sounds. You can hear them on the intro to ‘Nena Trampa,’ and you know those are my roots. I’m telling people where I come from and why I do the things I do. It’s autobiographical and honest—it touches on all my topics of interest, so that people may listen and learn about the forces that move me, and also the ones that push me back.”
“Isla Velde”
“This song was written from a very honest place. It’s dedicated to Isla Verde, a place in Puerto Rico. The truth is that I spend my days listening to romantic music, things like Cristian Castro and Luis Miguel. I love artists who sing pretty and romantic. I’m a trap artist, but I’m all those other things as well.”
“Yo Yo y Yo”
“This song has a little bit of Julieta and a little bit of Cazzu. I’m wondering why I am the way I am. People like me, who make others hate us because we don’t know how to remain silent, and we have things to say. There’s a part where I mention that, at times, I cry when I’m thinking—because so many women were not heard and now they’re gone—and recording that section was the most difficult part of the album. I would just lose my voice. I never had the experience of writing something and not being able to sing it. I still wonder what will happen in live performances, but it’s an important song to have.”
“Piénsame”
“It’s like a milonga from the South. It makes me think of Horacio Guarany, Felipe Jaramillo, Álvarez Quiroga. I tried to be like them when I wrote it. Folk music is usually reserved for men—when they talk about a foreigner, it’s always a guy. I thought it would be fun to become that stranger who picks up her guitar and takes off. Folk music is one of the pillars that define who I am as a person and artist. I was also inspired by “Serenata Otoñal” by Los Cantores del Alba—one of my favorite songs. It’s also a real story, something that happened to me and has a face attached to it.“
“Peli-Culeo”
“I’m really surprised when people want to sing with me. With Randy and De La Ghetto, I do the first half of the song and they did the second half together so that it wouldn’t become too long. A dream come true. Imagine a 12-year-old girl from Jujuy listening to Arcángel & De La Ghetto or Jowell & Randy. It’s surreal. It makes no sense to me that this actually happened.”
“Fulete” (feat. Ankhal)
“Another drill, but also a song with elements of everything else I listen to. I love the street vibe, the gangster mystique, many artists working together with different styles. Brray, Ankhal, and Lual La L are some of my favorite artists. They lit the street on fire, and it’s amazing that they jumped on my bandwagon. I value this tremendously—it’s like having a penis without having one, literally.”
“La Trampa”
“I feel a lot of affection for this song. We tried to make it sound dense, heavy, and dark. Some of the verses evoke personal experiences of mine and feel cathartic—this is not Cazzu in love. It’s like writing a diary, saying things without actually telling them. ‘La Trampa’ has that element, and also the love and desire for someone to say, ‘Oh, she wrote this song for me.’ When the songs pour out of my soul, they have that energy.”
“Maléfica”
“For a long time, Mari [María Becerra] and I were waiting for the chance to meet at the studio again. There’s something very special about us because I like her very much, and she also likes what I do. We enjoy searching, playing together, and listening to each other’s opinion. We end up like two little girls, screaming with excitement at the new song. It took her just a few minutes to write her part, and she killed it.”
“Los Hombres No Lloran”
“The album ends on a different note. We started with the sound of bullets, all that feminism and anger towards men. And we end forming an alliance. On this song, I’m like so many other women who are connected to a powerful man, but I have the sensitivity to tell him that I can see he’s not doing well. So, let’s shift gears, open a bottle of wine—you can talk to me, I won’t tell anyone else, your masculinity will remain intact. At the beginning, I thought the song was just too sweet, close to pop music, and I was hesitant. But [producer] Nico Cotton told me, ‘I won’t allow you to leave this song out. It’s the most beautiful track on the album.’ I’m so grateful to him for that because it delivers such a perfect conclusion.”