In Mexico City, at a military base, Captain Eduardo Barrón finds himself wielding a different kind of weapon; instead of a rifle, he grasps a microphone. Synchronized with a group of a dozen soldiers dressed in camouflage, he passionately sings accompanied by the booming sounds of trumpets and accordions. This musical performance showcases a traditional rhythm known as a corrido, familiar to virtually everyone in the 130 million-strong nation of Latin America. However, Barrón differentiates himself with lyrics that stand in stark contrast to those emanating from speakers throughout Mexico.
In his song, Barrón reminisces, “I still remember the day I joined the military. This is a dream my soul longed for, and if I were to live another life, I’d become a soldier again.” Under the stage name “Eddy Barrón,” he began releasing music videos and tracks on platforms like Spotify in the previous year in collaboration with the Mexican military. His songs praise the virtues of the army, honor the memory of fallen soldiers, and illustrate the pride of parents. This approach is a significant departure from the controversial narco corridos, a subgenre that has stirred debates by glorifying cartel leaders and portraying them as rebels against the system.
Local authorities across Mexico have grappled with this style of music that often celebrates cartel violence. In response, they have increasingly prohibited such performances and initiated legal proceedings against certain bands and artists. Moreover, Mexico’s president pledged to diminish the influence of narco corridos, simultaneously promoting more peaceful and non-violent music types. In contrast, 33-year-old Barrón seeks a different path. Rather than through censorship, he desires to leverage the cultural prominence of corridos by crafting military-themed versions, aimed at infusing socially acceptable narratives into the songs while encouraging young individuals to enlist in the military.
“Living the narco life is portrayed as glamorous, but the reality is starkly different,” Barrón states. “We’re doing our part to invite the youth to join this positive music movement.” His endeavor is part of a broader initiative led by Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum, aiming to transform Mexican music culture. She suggested that the government should promote corridos centered on themes of love, heartbreak, and peace. In a state like Durango, she even announced a government-backed music competition that excludes music glorifying violence, drugs, and discrimination. “It will completely change Mexican music,” she declared.
Despite these efforts, skepticism lingers within a subculture historically characterized by themes of defiance and portrayals of tough realities for the impoverished. Many doubt the effectiveness of governmental initiatives to encourage family-friendly narratives in corridos. “Using corridos to incorporate new narratives isn’t a bad idea,” commented José Manuel Valenzuela, a sociologist from Tijuana specializing in the genre. “There are numerous songs about peace and love. However, they aren’t as popular since we’re witnessing aggravated youth times.”
Corridos, having emerged in the 19th century, employ traditional band instruments and the accordion, reflecting the German and Polish migrations to Mexico. During eras of widespread illiteracy, these ballads were pedagogical tools for oral storytelling. They soared during the Mexican revolution, sharing tales of war heroes and glory. Barrón asserts that he’s not inventing military corridos but is simply reviving them, pointing out that “Corridos come from the revolution, and we’re doing similar work as those soldiers and revolutionaries, albeit in a modern age, but with the same results.”
Over time, the genre has evolved, shifting from themes about smuggling tequila during the Prohibition era of the 1920s to addressing the rise of cartel violence in Mexico with narco corridos. Valenzuela noted, “The big social issues are all conveyed through corridos, serving as metaphors reflecting our lived experiences.” As a teenager, Barrón played guitar in his father’s regional music band and wrote his creations. He continued the passion in the military, strumming his guitar during deployments. In 2021, he began composing songs reflecting his military life, performing with the military FX Band, named after a specific type of gun used by the armed forces. However, at that time, the music didn’t reach public ears.
The genre gained momentum in 2023 when artists like Peso Pluma, Fuerza Regida, and Natanael Cano combined traditional corridos with trap music, creating what’s known as corridos tumbados. Peso Pluma even surpassed Taylor Swift as the most streamed artist on YouTube that year. A year later, Barrón’s music was published under his artistic moniker by the Mexican army. With tens of thousands of views on platforms like YouTube, his music videos are infused with images of heavy weaponry, Mexican flags, barbed wire, and Barrón singing passionately in camouflage gear, infrared goggles resting above his helmet.
Initially intended to boost entertainment among troops and encourage young Mexican recruitment into the military, Barrón’s songs have taken a significant role in the ongoing corridos discourse. The music has faced longstanding criticism for glamourizing cartel violence, but recent years have marked a turning point. States in Mexico have imposed performance bans, and prominent artists have received threats, ostensibly from rival cartels dissatisfied with the glorification of their adversaries in music. Consequently, artists have often had to cancel concerts due to potential violence risks.
The controversy reached a new height after the visage of top cartel boss Nemesio Rubén “El Mencho” Oseguera was projected at a music festival in Jalisco in the performance of Los Alegres del Barranco, causing uproar in the country. This occurred not long after Oseguera’s cartel was linked to an investigated ranch potentially used as a training camp and body disposal location in Jalisco, sending shockwaves through Mexico. Following the incident, two Mexican states began criminal investigations, several concerts were canceled, and the U.S. government revoked the visas of the implicated band’s members. President Sheinbaum responded by demanding an investigation, emphasizing that “You can’t justify violence or support criminal groups.”
Opposing bans on corridos, Barrón argues that his approach, embodying his military persona, aims to reclaim the positive aspects of Mexican music traditions overshadowed by negative stereotypes. The army plans to release new songs soon, continuing his mission to change perspectives. “Unfortunately, corridos have been labeled as negative music,” he reflects. “The way forward is to redefine the genre’s path and reshape the dialogue.”