Alamar, the supposed birthplace of Cuban hip hop, is a barrio much like the South Bronx, a product of post-industrialist urban strife. The neighborhood is thought of as one of, if not, the largest public housing projects in the world with 300,000 people packed into 2000 buildings. The drab Soviet-style apartment complexes seem as if they were just plopped onto the outskirts of East Havana. Because it is slightly higher than the rest of Havana, the atennae were quicker to pick up the sounds of hip hop coming from Miami in the early 80s, and the music style quickly took off as the area is ripe for hip hop’s offering, easily blending in with the African sounds that had already been present on the island for hundreds of years and a perfect sounding board for young rappers, the new Cuban Revolution, to express their political frustrations with Old Guard Castro regime. Fidel has officially proclaimed hip hop as part of the revolution and was caught rapping at a baseball game, but it must be said that a lot of what comes out of Alamar is extremely critical, especially of the economic situation during the Special Period in Cuba. Nevertheless, in contrast with a number of their American counterparts, Cuban rappers also seem to be overwhelmingly proud of their traditions and of some aspects of the Revolution. Most albums circulate through trading in the Cuban “Socio-lismo” style (“socio” meaning partner or consort). This empty swimming pool in the barrio has been the site of the Cuban hip hop festival.
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