Debí Tirar Más Fotos: The Musical Love Letter to Puerto Rico We've All Been Waiting For

A brief review of Bad Bunny's latest album, Debí Tirar Más Fotos

Cover Image of Debí Tirar Más Fotos

Bad Bunny’s latest album, Debí Tirar Más Fotos (“I Should Have Taken More Photos”), is an intimate exploration of Puerto Rican identity, blending traditional sounds with modern innovation. This is his most reflective work yet, a project rooted in nostalgia and cultural pride. From the moment the album begins, we are are transported to the vibrant sounds of Puerto Rico, and the island’s extension - NuevaYorl.

Released on January 5th, the eve of Día de Reyes (Three Kings Day), the album’s timing couldn’t be more significant. Three Kings Day is a cornerstone of Puerto Rican culture, a time when families come together to honor tradition and celebrate joy. Bad Bunny deliberately ties his music to this sacred holiday, emphasizing the importance of remembering and honoring our roots. It feels like he’s inviting us to reflect on our own memories, urging us to cherish moments that might otherwise slip away - another reminder of why we should be documenting our lives and savoring them for future generations.

Read more about Día de los Reyes here

Musically, Debí Tirar Más Fotos is a stunning fusion of genres. The track “Pitorro de Coco” draws from plena, a traditional Afro-Caribbean rhythm deeply tied to Puerto Rican history, while infusing electronic elements to give it a contemporary edge. Plena, often called “the people’s newspaper,” carries stories of struggle, celebration, and resistance—layers that Bad Bunny weaves effortlessly into his lyrics. On “El Clúb,” he combines house music with the unmistakable twang of the cuatro, Puerto Rico’s iconic string instrument. It’s a seamless blend of the old and the new, a sonic representation of an island constantly evolving yet deeply rooted in its traditions.

Collaborations are another highlight, showcasing Bad Bunny’s commitment to uplifting Puerto Rican voices. RaiNao’s soulful vocals on “Lluvia en Viejo San Juan” add a haunting beauty, evoking the image of rain-soaked cobblestone streets in the heart of the island’s capital. Meanwhile, Los Pleneros de la Cresta bring the raw energy of live plena to “Fiestas en Santurce,” a track that feels like an invitation to dance at a community street festival, surrounded by the sounds of drums and cheers. These sounds of the island’s salsa history and its deep connection to its demonstration of resilience through music resonates in each song.

The lyrics on this album are some of Bad Bunny’s most personal. In “Lo Que Le Pasó a Hawaii,” he reflects on the displacement of native populations, singing, “No, no sueltes la bandera ni olvides el lelolai. Que no quiero que hagan contigo lo que le pasó a Hawái” (“Don’t let go of the flag or forget the lelolai. I don’t want them to do to you what happened to Hawaii”). These lines express a deep concern for Puerto Rico’s future, drawing parallels with Hawaii’s history of cultural erasure. In “Pitorro de Coco,” he captures the melancholy of lost love during the holidays: “Otra Navidad, en la que te pedí. Otra Navidad, que no estás aquí” (“Another Christmas, in which I asked for you. Another Christmas, that you’re not here”). These songs feel like diary entries, full of vulnerability and love for the island that shaped him.

Critics have rightly called Debí Tirar Más Fotos a “love letter to Puerto Rico.” But it’s more than that—it’s a call to action, urging us to preserve our cultural heritage in the face of modern challenges. By layering traditional sounds like bomba and salsa with reggaeton’s pulsing beats, Bad Bunny demonstrates that our history and future are intertwined, and one cannot exist without the other.

Accompanying the album is a short film co-directed with Puerto Rican legend Jacobo Morales. The film delves into themes of memory and cultural preservation, much like the music itself. Scenes of old family photos, vibrant festivals, and quiet moments in the mountains provide a visual counterpart to the album’s deeply personal and reflective tone.

With Debí Tirar Más Fotos, Bad Bunny offers a musical experience that feels like flipping through a cherished photo album—each track a vivid memory, each lyric a piece of the Puerto Rican story. It’s a testament to his artistry and a reminder that our culture, with all its beauty and complexities, deserves to be celebrated and protected.

Personal Reflection:

Listening to Debí Tirar Más Fotos feels like sitting in my abuela’s sala, the New York, NuevaYorl, air thick with the aroma of arroz y habichuelas and the sound of her stories painting vivid pictures of her life on the island. The album’s layers of plena, bomba, and jíbaro rhythms bring me right back to those moments when she’d recount her childhood—how she used to run barefoot through her father’s farm, the sound of the cuatro playing in the distance, and the way her sisters would sing and dance while cooking in their tiny kitchens. Tracks like “Pitorro de Coco” and “Fiestas en Santurce” bring those stories to life in a way that feels almost tangible, as if Bad Bunny has captured the essence of my abuela’s memories and set them to music. Every beat, every lyric, feels like a bridge between her past and my present, reminding me of the legacy she’s passed down.

My abuela barely spoke English, and she made sure we spoke Spanish at home, not because she couldn’t learn, but because she wanted to protect the heart of our identity. She would always say, “El idioma es de nosotros” (“Our language is ours”), emphasizing that preserving our culture started with the words we spoke. For her, speaking Spanish was an act of defiance in a world that constantly demanded assimilation. This resonates deeply with Bad Bunny’s commitment to his language, as stated in a recent interview with The New York Times:

Growing up, my abuela’s pride in her Puerto Rican roots was the foundation of everything she taught us. She’d sit us down and say, “Nunca olvides de dónde vienes,” her voice firm yet tender, as if knowing how easy it could be to lose touch with our heritage in a world that often asks us to assimilate. She filled our home with the sounds of traditional music, from the festive rhythms of plena during the holidays to the soulful strains of jíbaro songs that spoke of love and hardship. Hearing Debí Tirar Más Fotos brought an immense amount of love and saddness to my heart because it felt like Bad Bunny was channeling those same lessons, using his platform to celebrate our culture unapologetically. This album is more than music—it’s a reclamation of identity, a reminder of the beauty in our traditions, and a call to hold tightly to where we come from. Through every note and lyric, it feels like my abuela is sitting beside me, nodding in approval (while telling me not to repeat the palabras mala - the bad words), proud that her stories—and our history—live on.

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