Karol G Parties With History on ‘Tropicoqueta’

Where exactly does an artist go after globe-spanning, stadium-size, record-shattering success? Karol G, the Colombian megastar whose career went completely stratospheric after her last album, 2023’s Mañana Será Bonito, made history, wondered the same thing. For a while, she played around taking a total departure from her previous work: “I started thinking maybe I should do an album in English or I should experiment with new sounds I’ve never tried before,” she told Rolling Stone recently. “I started thinking about all of these weird concepts that would never make sense for Karol G.”

Instead, the turn Karol took was inward. She began to think about all of the music that had inspired her childhood — baroque Eighties ballads, soaring vallenatos, merengue from dance parties in family living rooms in Medellin. What ended up pouring out of her was Tropicoqueta, a bright, orange-hued compendium of 20 songs, all pulling from different parts of Latin-pop history. There’s a specific emphasis on the pop part — what’s accomplished here is carefree and breezy, interested in accessibility and relatability. These aren’t heady forays into classics from the Latin American songbook; part of Karol’s brand has been her upbeat approachability and commercial power. She loads up the album with familiar Easter eggs and surprise samples and memorable interpolations — all stretching out like a mosaic of past and present.

Tropicoqueta starts with an interlude featuring Karol singing along to the radio with none other than Thalia, the Nineties telenovela star and singer who defined several decades of Latin pop. The song playing on the radio? “Piel Morena,” the 1995 international hit that made Thalia a pop phenom. After they giggle together, Thalia tells Karol gleefully, “And you, showing me your new music? What’s the one I liked again? Play it, it’s so good.” It’s a passing of the baton — one Latin-pop queen giving her blessing to a new generation.

Still, what comes is a little unexpected. While most of Tropicoqueta orbits around more commercially known Latin rhythms, sleeker production choices keep it from being too old-school or derivative. Some of this comes through the stark minimalism of Ovy on the Drums and, in the case of the second track, “Ivonny Bonita,” the cool edge of Pharrell Williams’ choices as both artists try their best to channel the spirit of Sade. But the true standouts are moments that go for a nostalgic vibe: “No Puedo Vivir Sin Él” aims for magic and, thanks to a stunning arrangement, largely succeeds, while “Coleccionando Heridas” is a gorgeous highlight, reinforced by the vocals of Marco Antonio Solis, the beloved balladeer who feels synonymous with timelessness. 

Other flirtations with the past are done in a more playful, tongue-in-cheek way. Karol’s approach was clear right when she posted a teaser of the album, in full Copacabana-showgirl mode, embracing all the over-the-top performances of bygone eras. However, some of those campy choices haven’t been without controversy. When the first single, “Latina Foreva,” dropped, it quickly met consternation online because of what some people called out as easy cliches and overt sexualization. (Karol sings about Latinas having “curves you don’t even see on NASCAR” over an interpolation of Nina Sky’s “Oye Mi Canto.” The video also received criticism for its lack of diverse representation of Latinas.) “Papasito,” meanwhile, leans into old salsa glamour as Karol plays the role of a Spanish-speaking woman trying her best to sing in English to woo an American man.

But ultimately, these tropes pull on a shared history of Latin culture, and they add her own particular voice to those of the women who have shaped that culture. Even when Karol is hamming it up as an old-school vedette, she adds emotion to the images and icons we’re used to seeing: It comes through in the ache of “Ese Hombre Es Malo” and the vulnerability of “Se Puso Linda.” And then, for the grand finale, it’s back to those memories that have led Karol here. “Tropicoqueta,” an upbeat merengue, channels “la hora loca,” or “crazy hour,” during Colombian celebrations, when the DJ plays beloved staples and novelty dances. Karol offers her own spin on the song, calling out dance moves and listing out people — everyone from the aunty in the kitchen to the little kid in the background — who should be having a good time. Here, it’s Karol at her core, just a girl getting friends to dance and livening up the party with heart and soul.