DOS_patos
Unverified Legion of Trill member
Lets start off with the light introductions.
This is where the odyssey of Jan Carlos Ozuna Rosado -- the reggaetón and Latin trap star known simply as Ozuna -- began: in a modestly appointed, three-bedroom apartment above a bodega in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Outside, a trio of chickens poke around in the street and an old salsa tune wafts through the air. Ozuna’s grandmother, Eneida, shuffles between the porch and the kitchen. Ozuna, who is 25, grew up here, though the house is considerably more crowded now. Nearly a dozen people pass in and out, including a two-man security detail; Ozuna’s uncle, Felix, who became a father figure after Ozuna’s own died when he was 3; and Charlie, a one-time neighbor who now serves as Ozuna’s personal assistant and has Ozuna’s logo, a teddy bear, tattooed on his calf.
Wearing a jacquard Gucci tracksuit and Balenciaga trainers, Ozuna sits on the living room couch, scrolling through Instagram. His first microphone -- a scratched-up Samsung that Felix gave him when he was 12 -- rests beside him, a reminder of the days before he was packing arenas in both Puerto Rico and the continental United States and attracting collaborators like rap sensation Cardi B, with whom he recently released the dancehall-inflected duet “La Modelo.” I ask Ozuna if, at some point that week, his team might help me get in touch with her to discuss her work with him -- and not five seconds later, he’s got her on FaceTime, despite the fact that she’s clearly exhausted from the Grammys the night before.
“Yo CARRR-deeeee!” coos Ozuna.
She’s still in bed, but a big grin spreads across her face: “Hey!”
“Baby, call me back when you’re up, all right? Go on, girl. God bless you.”
A sweet and nimble vocalist known for his sensitive, romantic lyrics -- once a rarity in traditionally macho reggaetón -- Ozuna persuaded Cardi to try singing in Spanish. His instincts were spot-on: In January, “La Modelo” debuted at No. 3 on Billboard’s Hot Latin Songs chart and No. 52 on the Billboard Hot 100, capping off a year that perfectly positioned Ozuna for a stateside breakthrough. His first full-length LP, Odisea, bowed at No. 1 on Top Latin Albums in September and arrived on the Billboard 200 at No. 22, ultimately becoming the longest-charting Latin title there since Gloria Estefan’s Destiny in 1996. As a solo artist, Ozuna has twice cracked the Hot Latin Songs top 10. Without the benefit of a major English-language radio single, he has earned 1 billion on-demand streams in the United States, according to Nielsen Music.
Kevin Winter/Getty Images
Ozuna and Cardi B performed at Calibash in Los Angeles on Jan. 20.
It has been four years since Ozuna first started posting his music to YouTube. Back then, he was sharing his childhood bedroom with his wife, Taina, and their first child, Sofia. Since then, a great deal has changed -- for Ozuna, his country and for Latin pop. In 2017, when Puerto Rico’s own Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankeemade history with their inescapable hit “Despacito” (and its Justin Bieber-assisted remix), it felt like the walls between Spanish- and English-language pop had come crashing down. Major Grammy nominations for the track, including song and record of the year, followed.
Yet it was difficult to think of the success of “Despacito” without remembering the desperate situation in the territory it came from: the devastation wrought by Hurricane Maria in September, sending over 200,000 fleeing the island and leaving its remaining inhabitants without water, electricity and other crucial resources as the Trump administration dragged its feet in providing aid. (Over 400,000 remain without power.) Against the backdrop of the ongoing struggle, “Despacito” losing on Grammy night felt especially cruel, notwithstanding the jubilant performance Fonsi and Daddy Yankee gave at the show.
“You either make history or you don’t,” says Ozuna. “I’m a guy that roots for the home team. Daddy Yankee and Luis Fonsi, those are my guys. As far as I’m concerned, they won. They broke into every market with ‘Despacito.’ They took [Latin] urban music to the American Grammys.”
His attention shifts to his phone -- he’s somehow able to engage in thoughtful discussion while perma-scrolling through Instagram. His thumb stops on a video posted by New York’s WSKQ (La Mega 97.9), the No. 1 Latino station in the nation: it’s Camila Cabello, center stage on Grammy night. “I’m a proud, Cuban-Mexican immigrant,” said Cabello, “born in Eastern Havana, standing in front of you on the Grammy stage in New York City. And all I know is, just like dreams, [immigrant] kids can’t be forgotten and are worth fighting for.”
Ozuna nods his head, saying, “Good... good...” Though he’s still most comfortable speaking in Spanish, this he says in English.
On the title track to Odisea, Ozuna raps his autobiography in Spanish at breakneck speed: “Crecí en un círculo de pobreza...”
I was born in a cycle of poverty
Everything was happy
Adapting was a skill
Grandma raised me, Daddy died
Mommy was always there for me
I swear I lacked for nothing...
But on the refrain, he sings with an ache:
If tomorrow I do not wake up
And Dad sends God to look for me
I would first like to say goodbye
But what will happen to me?
Who will take care of my family?
In this world of betrayal
It’s been an odyssey.
Ozuna was 3 when his father was fatally shot. He has no real memory of the man who traveled the world as a backup dancer for Spanish rap and reggaetón pioneer Vico C. “He had to go to another place,” says Ozuna, “but I know that he would have given everything for somebody to elevate the family name. That somebody happens to be me.” His mother was and remains a constant presence, but she was never financially stable enough to take Ozuna in. For most of his life, he lived with his grandmother.
“She taught me to follow the path of Jesus Christ, that nothing is given to us, that you have to work for what you get,” says Ozuna of Eneida. “And she taught me the value of money, a pair of sneakers -- we bought those with sacrifice. She would say the same of a pencil, an eraser, simple things. We had to sweat in order to get it.”
Wesley Mann
Ozuna (center) with his grandmother, Eneida Cespedes de León, and uncle, Felix Ozuna, at de León’s home in San Juan.
This is where the odyssey of Jan Carlos Ozuna Rosado -- the reggaetón and Latin trap star known simply as Ozuna -- began: in a modestly appointed, three-bedroom apartment above a bodega in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Outside, a trio of chickens poke around in the street and an old salsa tune wafts through the air. Ozuna’s grandmother, Eneida, shuffles between the porch and the kitchen. Ozuna, who is 25, grew up here, though the house is considerably more crowded now. Nearly a dozen people pass in and out, including a two-man security detail; Ozuna’s uncle, Felix, who became a father figure after Ozuna’s own died when he was 3; and Charlie, a one-time neighbor who now serves as Ozuna’s personal assistant and has Ozuna’s logo, a teddy bear, tattooed on his calf.
Wearing a jacquard Gucci tracksuit and Balenciaga trainers, Ozuna sits on the living room couch, scrolling through Instagram. His first microphone -- a scratched-up Samsung that Felix gave him when he was 12 -- rests beside him, a reminder of the days before he was packing arenas in both Puerto Rico and the continental United States and attracting collaborators like rap sensation Cardi B, with whom he recently released the dancehall-inflected duet “La Modelo.” I ask Ozuna if, at some point that week, his team might help me get in touch with her to discuss her work with him -- and not five seconds later, he’s got her on FaceTime, despite the fact that she’s clearly exhausted from the Grammys the night before.
“Yo CARRR-deeeee!” coos Ozuna.
She’s still in bed, but a big grin spreads across her face: “Hey!”
“Baby, call me back when you’re up, all right? Go on, girl. God bless you.”
A sweet and nimble vocalist known for his sensitive, romantic lyrics -- once a rarity in traditionally macho reggaetón -- Ozuna persuaded Cardi to try singing in Spanish. His instincts were spot-on: In January, “La Modelo” debuted at No. 3 on Billboard’s Hot Latin Songs chart and No. 52 on the Billboard Hot 100, capping off a year that perfectly positioned Ozuna for a stateside breakthrough. His first full-length LP, Odisea, bowed at No. 1 on Top Latin Albums in September and arrived on the Billboard 200 at No. 22, ultimately becoming the longest-charting Latin title there since Gloria Estefan’s Destiny in 1996. As a solo artist, Ozuna has twice cracked the Hot Latin Songs top 10. Without the benefit of a major English-language radio single, he has earned 1 billion on-demand streams in the United States, according to Nielsen Music.
Kevin Winter/Getty Images
Ozuna and Cardi B performed at Calibash in Los Angeles on Jan. 20.
It has been four years since Ozuna first started posting his music to YouTube. Back then, he was sharing his childhood bedroom with his wife, Taina, and their first child, Sofia. Since then, a great deal has changed -- for Ozuna, his country and for Latin pop. In 2017, when Puerto Rico’s own Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankeemade history with their inescapable hit “Despacito” (and its Justin Bieber-assisted remix), it felt like the walls between Spanish- and English-language pop had come crashing down. Major Grammy nominations for the track, including song and record of the year, followed.
Yet it was difficult to think of the success of “Despacito” without remembering the desperate situation in the territory it came from: the devastation wrought by Hurricane Maria in September, sending over 200,000 fleeing the island and leaving its remaining inhabitants without water, electricity and other crucial resources as the Trump administration dragged its feet in providing aid. (Over 400,000 remain without power.) Against the backdrop of the ongoing struggle, “Despacito” losing on Grammy night felt especially cruel, notwithstanding the jubilant performance Fonsi and Daddy Yankee gave at the show.
“You either make history or you don’t,” says Ozuna. “I’m a guy that roots for the home team. Daddy Yankee and Luis Fonsi, those are my guys. As far as I’m concerned, they won. They broke into every market with ‘Despacito.’ They took [Latin] urban music to the American Grammys.”
His attention shifts to his phone -- he’s somehow able to engage in thoughtful discussion while perma-scrolling through Instagram. His thumb stops on a video posted by New York’s WSKQ (La Mega 97.9), the No. 1 Latino station in the nation: it’s Camila Cabello, center stage on Grammy night. “I’m a proud, Cuban-Mexican immigrant,” said Cabello, “born in Eastern Havana, standing in front of you on the Grammy stage in New York City. And all I know is, just like dreams, [immigrant] kids can’t be forgotten and are worth fighting for.”
Ozuna nods his head, saying, “Good... good...” Though he’s still most comfortable speaking in Spanish, this he says in English.
On the title track to Odisea, Ozuna raps his autobiography in Spanish at breakneck speed: “Crecí en un círculo de pobreza...”
I was born in a cycle of poverty
Everything was happy
Adapting was a skill
Grandma raised me, Daddy died
Mommy was always there for me
I swear I lacked for nothing...
But on the refrain, he sings with an ache:
If tomorrow I do not wake up
And Dad sends God to look for me
I would first like to say goodbye
But what will happen to me?
Who will take care of my family?
In this world of betrayal
It’s been an odyssey.
Ozuna was 3 when his father was fatally shot. He has no real memory of the man who traveled the world as a backup dancer for Spanish rap and reggaetón pioneer Vico C. “He had to go to another place,” says Ozuna, “but I know that he would have given everything for somebody to elevate the family name. That somebody happens to be me.” His mother was and remains a constant presence, but she was never financially stable enough to take Ozuna in. For most of his life, he lived with his grandmother.
“She taught me to follow the path of Jesus Christ, that nothing is given to us, that you have to work for what you get,” says Ozuna of Eneida. “And she taught me the value of money, a pair of sneakers -- we bought those with sacrifice. She would say the same of a pencil, an eraser, simple things. We had to sweat in order to get it.”
Wesley Mann
Ozuna (center) with his grandmother, Eneida Cespedes de León, and uncle, Felix Ozuna, at de León’s home in San Juan.
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