Argentine Rapper Dillom Unleashes ‘La Nueva Violencia’ Album: ‘I’m Part of the System & Also a Victim Who Gets Caught Up In It’
Categoria: Musica
With his third album, Dillom explores his relationship with the cultural system that propelled his rise to fame, while also leaving him stuck in some potentially destructive cycles.
Por Billboard | 13/08/2026
2021: “I don’t have dreams, I have plans. I don’t have enemies, I have fans.” 2024: “Little by little, I became my own worst enemy, searching for myself in an empty shell.” 2026: “Don’t pay anymore to watch me lie.” Read as a sequence, these three lines could form a Buenos Aires-inspired take on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby (1925): the tragedy of the self-made man who becomes trapped by the identity he built to save himself. Post Mortem (2021) was the coronation of a 20-year-old kid who, alongside his label Bohemian Groove, crafted himself into an abrasive rock star. Today, that persona doesn’t go out hunting for victims anymore — it feeds off its creator. La Nueva Violencia , released Wednesday (Aug. 12) under his own independent label Bohemian Groove, is self-devouring, reflected across 13 tracks and a voice memo from his father. In it, Dillom questions the ills of contemporary society — ones he can never fully prove his innocence against. “I feel like telling the whole world to f–k off… But I’m not going to say it.” That’s how Dylan León Masa (his real name) kicked off this cover interview with Billboard Argentina . It’s been three days since the World Cup final, but the digital world is still packed with a never-ending line of people eagerly waiting their turn to rage at Argentina with a nervous kind of fury. Once again, social media has activated its punitive function, highlighting how quick people are to point out others’ flaws while avoiding any self-reflection. “I kind of nailed the timing of the album,” he notes. In the meantime, the present moment only amplifies the meaning behind its title. The evidence points to him, even though the responsibility belongs to everyone. The system judges him, consumes him, and then demands another season. It’s been a while since he’s been “part of the common people” (as he sings in “Gente Común”), and selling out Vélez Stadium (Estadio José Amalfitani) this past Dec. 20 only solidified that distance. The spectacle promises a movie more captivating than the plot itself. Between a flawless teaser and another viral moment online, poverty, wars, and the everyday misery of life remind us that there are still parts of reality that can’t be turned into a campaign. He wrestles with desires that his conscience objects to, but when it’s time to act, he ends up dancing in the same play. “I’m part of the system and also a victim who gets caught up in it,” he admits, as a smile slightly distorts the juice box tattoo on his left cheek. “It’s impossible not to be, because you enjoy it,” he says. When he thinks about his biggest enemies, his own name makes the top five. The breaking point comes when Dylan, Dillom, and the identities in between lose the distance that once allowed them to view reality as something external. His intense journey through the cadence of Buenos Aires — from his hometown of Colegiales to Villa 31, where he first cut his teeth as a produ