Vol. 2 When rap is not just rap
The impact of Arab drill in Spain beyond music
Me despertaba cansao, el futuro era oscuro,
Y si miraba pal lao, no tenía ni un duro,
Me despertaba cansao, y no había dinero,
Así que miro pal frente y me siento el primero
Bogota – Naps. ft Morad and Alonzo
In 2019, philosopher Ernesto Castro wrote an interesting book outside the scope of his discipline. In "El trap. Filosofía millennial para la crisis en España" (Trap. Millennial philosophy for the crisis in Spain), the author contends that trap music is the soundtrack of the post-economic crisis in Spain. This, he argues, has led to the trap scene being very individualistic, foregrounding money, fame, and quick success as the main antagonists of an ongoing crisis, not only economic but also environmental, generational, and social. In contrast to this picture, the drill scene - at least the Arab drill scene, which is the subject of this article - shows a different representation of the same crisis. One could say that this scene has particular aspects related to migration policies, but also to specific cultural values related to the importance of family, respect for elders, and solidarity. In this sense, the Arab drill scene offers an alternative understanding of what music can achieve.
The importance of Morad and other emerging young Arab rappers in Spain goes beyond the realm of music. In recent years, the number of unaccompanied minors and young migrants, mainly from Morocco, in Spain has increased by over 20,000 between 2018 and 2020. Unfortunately, right-wing organisations often stigmatise these young migrants by calling them "MENAS" - the Spanish acronym for foreign unaccompanied minors - which has led to debates among academics and NGO practitioners to stop using the term to avoid further stigmatisation. But as is so often the case with pejorative terms, victims have turned the term into a proud one.
Rap that heals
No es pa’ tanto, no es pal llanto, Miro para el cielo, vuelo con el viento
No es un cuento, nunca miento, Problema’ a diario, pero estoy contento
Aprendí - Morad
Precisely, Arab drill songs have paid attention to minors and young migrants, addressing their situation in their lyrics. “Children of 17 go out to sea to give their mothers food and a table” (‘Niños pequeños’ – Morad) is just one of the verses addressing this problem. However, this connection goes beyond rhyming and impacts other aspects. For instance, Morad’s lyrics are the primary tool through which many of these youth learn Spanish when in Ceuta - a Spanish north-African city where many of them stay for a long time before crossing to the peninsula. It is quite an interesting exercise to observe how many of them did not have any other reference than drill songs, and from there were able to develop good Spanish skills to help them deal with daily life issues. This question can be traced to the kind of competition to see who a ‘real’ Morad fan was long before he became widely known.
"We, the MENAS, we are the ones who have helped Morad to rise to the top," told Karim, a 30-year-old guy from Tetouan, in the North of Morocco, close to the border with Spain. Karim spent several years in Ceuta before crossing to mainland Spain. In Madrid, he is fortunate as he is renting a room. The rest of his colleagues live in a ‘piso patera’ – a substandard and overcrowded flat, named this, as it resembles the small boats in which many migrants cross the sea to arrive in Spain - usually squatted until the police evict them from it. They all work seasonally in black in the construction sector and develop back pain and leg injuries.
Morad’s and other Arab drillers’ songs serve as psychosocial support tools for these youth, who often face very difficult situations such as lacking legal documents, financial resources, and family and friends to support them. Lyrics are meaningful as they recount issues such as their daily breadth: continuous police harassment, roaming the streets in the quest for any resource to eat that night, or the loneliness of feeling alone and not trusting anybody.
"When I listen to Morad, Beny, and others, I feel something touching me. Other Spanish rappers always talk about the same things: the neighbourhood, money, and so on. Morad talks about things that we live and feel: our mothers, the police, life on the street," said Hassan, a 25-year-old from Dajla, a town located in the southernmost part of Western Sahara. He crossed Spain by boat, arriving in Las Palmas, in the Canary Islands, where he stayed for two years before crossing inland Spain. After some time living as an asylum seeker, he lost his asylum permit and returned to struggle again.
What do Arab drills speak about and why is it so touching?
Portraying real life issues
Este es nuestro sistema, eh eh, Día a día evitando condenas, eh eh
Dinero, drogas y problemas, eh eh, Es la calle quien puso las reglas, eh eh
La Suerte Pt. 2 - Delarue
One thing that has always been wrongly understood by those who criticize rap music and culture is the alleged promotion of violence, crime, and damaging behaviour. Although I will not vouch for anyone, I can strongly affirm that the vast majority of rappers do not promote violence or criminality. Rap songs speak about issues of violence, criminality, killings, drug trafficking, and imprisonment, but they do so as a sort of denouncement of that reality and celebrate the fact of leaving that life behind. Rather than thinking that rap music is intrinsically violent, it would be better to understand that the living conditions of most of the communities from which most rappers come are plagued with many forms of violence, particularly systemic violence.
In this sense, the main topics of Arab drillers' songs in Spain are related to the reality they face daily and how they cope with it. Unsurprisingly, one of the main themes is how to find a livelihood and survive in hostile environments. Moroccans’ unemployment rate in Spain is the highest among foreign nationals at 34.6%. Similarly, the poverty rate among foreigners is double that among Spanish nationals. Most Arab migrants in Spain are employed in sectors such as restaurants, catering, domestic work, construction, agriculture, and retail, which are more likely to offer jobs in the informal sector and suffer seasonal economic crises. Approximately 26.5% of foreign nationals were employed in the informal sector, compared to only 13.5% of the Spanish population. Moreover, approximately 13.5% of migrants are in an irregular situation, which makes them prone to work in the informal sector as the only way to meet ends.
Therefore, it is no surprise that the songs talk about these difficult conditions and the solutions they find. “I had to think to improve, I am coming from the nothing,” signs Morad in ‘La Street.’ For instance, they will constantly mention traveling to the south of Spain to pick up drug loads, stealing, dealing, etc. In ‘Carretera,’ Morad narrates the whereabouts of one of those travels and though he understands the wrongful of it, he acknowledges that there was not much choice: “I learn how to live with all the bad, and then yes, I ripped them off.” By the end, as anybody else, money is necessary to survive, but not at any price: “Theft for luxury used to be the main thing, now we make fluss to find our peace” (‘La Suerte Pt. 1’ – Delarue).
However, contrary to what many believe, there is no glorification of that but rather 1) a need to tell real-life stories and not inventions; 2) to denounce the life they seem destined to live, and 3) the relief that comes from leaving it behind. Because of that constant tug-of-war between the bad and the necessary, drillers live in a permanent battle against invisible enemies: “On continue dans la guerre (we continue the war), you don’t know what will happen, you just want to win, based on the feeling, slaves of the right path,” signs Delarue in ‘Generación Maldita.’ However, in this inevitable fate, there is always a loophole for honour and empowerment. ‘Sigue,’ by Beny JR and Morad, is a good example of that mentality, with punchlines like “Sometimes bad things go on, but no one chases them. He who follows always gets it.” They even use this platform to denounce the lack of opportunities for the younger generations: “Little children obsessed to commit crimes; stolen cars do not have an insurance nor a technician” (‘Niños Pequeños’ – Morad).
In the end, a measure of success in this life would be to pay taxes: “I did not have enough to enter the shops; I doubt that you understand that world. I had to steal all the clothes, now I pay the Treasury every month” (‘Bzrp Music Sessions Vol. 47’ - Morad) – a goal clearly at odds with those right-wing narratives obsessed with portraying them as invaders and the Trojan horse of a new Al-Andalus.
Free Sufian, Free Mustafa
Aguantando abusos policiales, levantándome pa’ los juzgados.
Aguantando charlas de los fiscales, para nunca más estar encerrado.
Aguantando – Morad
Police abuse is another theme that can be clearly identified in Arab drill songs. Mentions to the police and judicial system are constant in their songs to denounce the treatment that different police bodies have with the youth of deprived neighbourhoods. This is no secret. It is not hard to find, by chance, that a couple of police officers identify a young boy on the sole basis of how he looks. Despite racial profiling being unlawful in Spain, the European Commission Against Racism and Intolerance (ECRI) considers it an endemic problem. Data on criminality in Spain must be taken with a pinch of salt: over 30% of crimes are committed by foreigners, and they are mainly related to drug trafficking and crimes against property. However, there are no conclusive data on criminality rates by minors and young migrants, and in any case, they could be highly influenced by the racial profiling we pointed out.
Songs denounce this constant harassment, regardless of what they do, their age, or any other condition. “Secret police in the corners taking pictures of the children” (‘Cuzi Cuza’ – Morad) or the fear of being taken to a detention centre any moment, as in ‘Aprendí’: “Mum, please, do not open to the police. She was not open because that meant [being taken to the] police station” are just some examples of the situations they constantly face. Given all that, it is no surprise their anger and resentment towards them: “I hate the police as much as I hate Israelis” (La Suerte Pt. 2 – Delarue).
Drillers also have thoughts about their imprisoned friends and experiences in jail. Probably, one of the most popular cries for freedom in Spain has become the tag “Free Sufian, Free Mustafa” that Beny JR includes at the end of every song. However, this experience can be used as a symbol and a tool for collective identity: “A greeting to those who ate a tortilla sandwich at the public prosecutor’s office’ (‘Cuidadito’ – Morad).
Respect, loyalty, and la Mama
Mi mama me dice que a los buenos Dios los bendice
Mama me dice – Morad
On the other hand, we also find other themes that outlay the main values they uphold, given the panorama of difficult living conditions and police harassment. One of them is the importance given to honour, respecting one’s word, and not allowing oneself to change despite improved living conditions. “With the feeling that Beny would never sign up for a million, Morad would never sign up for a million, here we are with another song” (La Verdad – Beny Jr ft. Morad). This theme is linked to the importance of friendship and loyalty, and the disdain for snitches. Having good real friends, even if few, is a treasure: “The friend who is close, who is always in the bad, I’ll lend you my hand now, with nothing in return” (‘No money’ – Morad).
Another important value is the ability to endure and stay strong despite difficulties, for which inner beliefs in oneself and faith in God are almost the only tools left. Lacking almost everything required for a healthy growing up, introspection is a basic characteristic of these youth, particularly for those who arrived alone, and faced increased challenges. A clear example in the opening verse of this article is when Morad writes, “I woke up tired and there was no money, so I look ahead, and I feel I am the first.” Or the whole single of ‘Soñar,’ which all redounds in this idea of personal improvement.
Finally, the role of the mother is the foremost. It is clearly linked to the importance given to mothers in Islam, for many of these youths are the life guide to which they hold to survive. The mother is the beginning and the end of everything: the one who advises, the one who listens, the one who suffers, and the one for whom everything is intended. The ideas of doing whatever it takes to support the mother and the family but also of how her judgement is the severest one (“And for ignoring Mom, again seated in the trial chair” – ‘For ignoring Mom’ – El Patron 970) are constant ideas throughout Arab drill songs.
This article aims to highlight the main issues that drill songs talk about and how they resonate with the reality faced by Arab migrants in Spain. By no means can the article perform an exhaustive analysis of the lyrics of each artist, which are very rich and varied in terms of writing styles, cultural references, and so on, but only present a small overview of the main problems they touch on and how they relate to the actual youth on the street.
In future, I will touch upon the themes of identity building and socio-political representation. However, I will now move from Spain to explore other scenarios. So, keep engaged!
*All the names in this article have been changed to preserve the anonymity and safety of the sources.
Now listen to it!
In our upcoming issue…
Arab عlt Vol. 3: Jul and the rise of French rap: il n’y a plus de marche arrière
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