10 hours ago
Feid: All Green Everything
This article originally appeared in Hypebeast Magazine Issue 35: The Wavelength Issue.
The moment you step off the plane at José María Córdova International Airport in Colombia, it's impossible to ignore: The musician Feid isn't just a national treasure; he's the sonic manifestation of the country's youth culture itself. His presence is everywhere, from suitcases, glasses, and t-shirts emblazoned with 'Ferxxo' stickers, referencing Feid's nickname, to street vendors lining the sidewalks with bootleg merch. His unmistakable reggaeton anthems boom from passing cars in an endless loop, and just beyond the terminal, a towering 50-foot billboard cements his status.
Feid is more than an artist here—he's a movement.
I'll be honest: I had only heard a couple songs by the reggaeton don before I accepted an offer to fly to Medellín to watch him perform in front of 70,000 people three nights in a row.
I say this with more than a hint of shame: In 2024, Feid was the 10th most-streamed artist in the world, and a number of his tracks were the most played in all of Latin America. He's been nominated for 10 Latin Grammys, and he won Best Reggaeton Performance in 2024 for his song 'Perro Negro' with Bad Bunny. The 32-year-old Colombian artist has also written multiple Billboard-topping hits for J Balvin, including the 2016 globe-dominating smash 'Ginza.' As if that wasn't enough, he's collaborated with every major player in the reggaeton MVP league, from Balvin and Bunny, to Rauw Alejandro, Karol G, Maluma, and Ryan Castro.
Music critics like Robert Christgau, Chuck Klosterman, and Jon Caramanica have all posited that there is no monoculture anymore. This suggests that in an era of globalization, the infinite jukebox offered by streaming technology—and countless subcultures and subgenres waning and waxing at an increasing clip—even South America's biggest musicians don't necessarily become household names elsewhere. Feid may have more than a billion streams on singles like 'Luna' and 'Feliz Cumpleaños Ferxxo,' but that doesn't mean he's being played on Hot 97 in New York.
Maybe I'm just making excuses to hide my age. Now, in my early thirties, I could be getting too complacent, trapped in algorithmically-driven filter bubbles and 'taste neighborhoods.' Sure, I like Colombian post-dubstep producer Verraco, or the Bronx-raised, techno-cumbia hybrid DJ hellotones. But I'm not a native Spanish speaker, and when it comes to pop music, I only know the crossover successes by virtue of their press coverage—Rosalia, Bad Bunny, J Balvin, etc.
Statistically, Feid is as big as any of these artists. But he's just starting to grace the covers of US-based magazines and the lineups of festivals like Governor's Ball, where he's headlining this spring. The man born Salomón Villada Hoyos is an undeniable superstar back home, but remains a relative newcomer to gringo ears.
When I first discussed a Feid interview with his publicist—and, later, my de facto fixer in Medellín—Albert Piedrahita, he repeatedly stressed that a Zoom chat wouldn't cut it. I had to come to Colombia, he said, and witness firsthand that Ferxxo is a movement, one that could very soon be embraced the world over.
The concert took place at a stadium, Estadio Atanasio Girardot, home to football clubs Atlético Nacional and Independiente Medellín. The venue typically has a capacity of 45,000, but Feid's team worked with the government to extend the space by an additional 25,000 seats each night. I was told again and again that the three-night suite was expected to be such a spectacle that people flew in from all over the continent just to witness the glory— the event for reggaeton lovers throughout all of LATAM. It's alleged that this was the biggest show in the history of Medellín, if not all of Colombia.
Further (or Furxxther), the shows would coincide with Las Velitas, the unofficial start of the Christmas season, when Colombians place candles and paper lanterns on windowsills, sidewalks, streets, and parks as a symbolic tribute to the Virgin Mary and her Immaculate Conception. The stadium shows weren't just a homecoming, but an extension of one of Medellín's most significant holidays. In effect, it was to be a spiritual spectacle that Feid and his team were treating with meticulous devotion. As the musician told me later, 'This day, Las Velitas, is the most nostalgic one for me.'
Feid's green gold manifests sonically in a myriad of ways. While he notes that he grew up in Colombia with 'all this Puerto Rican influence,' his aim is to 'keep the roots of Puerto Rican reggaeton and try to always create something new in the beat.' This translates into his signature 'sentimental reggaeton' style (sometimes called 'sad boy perreo') where lovelorn ballads rest on top of production not typically found in the genre: hip-hop-style 808s, synths, Afrobeats, smooth tech-house, and more. Feid regularly incorporates local Colombian slang into his lyrics, too, such as 'Hey mor' and 'chimba' (meaning cool) to pay homage to his native country.
Plus, it's worth noting that his music and visual universe have a distinct sense of humor. He has lyrics, for example, that paint him as both a lover in the doghouse and simultaneously a dog in heat. His music videos take the disposition even further. One that comes to mind is 'PPCP,' which features close-up shots of strippers smoking weed juxtaposed with a group of nuns blurred as though mandated to comply with local censors. The album cover for LOS 9 , too, features three fisheye photos of Feid and Sky alongside Taz from Looney Tunes where the three mess around with dynamite and get their Acme-induced comeuppance.
'A lot of reggaeton artists are focused on being cool—who's the craziest dresser, or who has the craziest music videos,' Feid told me later. 'But for me personally, it's about being myself with my music.' The recurring caricature of Feid with an oversized, devilish grin couldn't be more on point: The man is a cartoon come to life. This is reflected to the umpteenth degree in his pupil-dilating live shows that embrace maximalism and soulfulness in equal measure.
Before every concert, Feid's whole camp engages in a pre-show prayer, usually followed by a shot of Aguardiente—the anise-flavored liqueur popular in the Andean region.
On the first night of his stadium shows, the team prayed longer than usual due to the sheer scale of the event. 'We always put everything in God and le fe [faith],' the artist explained. 'And this show is special because my parents are here and it's a holiday. But I'm ready. Once we get the prayer in, it's just a deep breath and boom.' Showtime.
Feid makes it sound easy and stress free. While his artist persona is outsized, he's modest and easygoing—almost carefree—in conversation. The truth is that the concert was, bar none, the most grandiose and swaggering performance I've ever witnessed.
It kicked off with a sleight-of-hand: Feid snuck into a box as if he were Houdini's assistant and was discreetly rolled through the crowd before slipping under the behemoth stage. There, he popped out of the trunk wearing a mask and hoodie before swapping the fit for his signature white Oakleys, snapback hat, and a custom black-and-green tactical vest made by the Colombian brand 747.
The stage featured modular stacks of scaffolding that stood over 300 feet tall, resembling a halfway-built skyscraper. Inside the structure were platforms at varying heights, and close to a dozen LED screens positioned to cover every angle of the oval-shaped arena. The whole stage was dark and the pre-show DJs paused their sets as Feid secretly climbed his way to the top. The 70,000 concert goers collectively held their breath, aware that the sensory respite signaled that things were about to explode — literally.
After an almost deafening silence, church-like organs began emanating from the speaker stacks followed by what sounded like Gregorian chanting. The screens lit up with black-and-green animations depicting a dystopian society of people seemingly under despotic rule. Military trucks pulled by barking Rottweilers sped by lines of people awaiting a grim fate. Close-ups of green pupils blinked everywhere. As the organs reached a crescendo, the myriad screens displayed a composite image of a child who suddenly grinned with Feid's monster teeth. The chanting got faster and the imagery responded in kind: Smirking child, a cartoon of Feid, guard dogs, and then an apocalyptic landscape: FERRXOCALIPSIS.
The visuals transformed from 2D to 3D as the stage cameras focused on Feid standing atop the scaffolding's highest platform. He started rapping the opening bars of 'Alakran': La' chimbitas, ¿a ver, dónde están? / Que pelen la' nalguita como chin-chan / Se sientan en la silla del huracán / Viper, viper, no confía en na', ey.
Then, a deep breath and BOOM: fireworks exploded round after round, bursts of flames shot into the air, confetti rained down, and decibels surged as spotlights locked on to the superstar as he appeared seemingly from nowhere. The audience responded with a scream that matched the scene's intensity, evoking the frenzied excitement of fans watching The Beatles play the Washington Coliseum in 1964. For the next three hours and twenty minutes, Feid never stopped moving, nor did the deluge of pyrotechnics, lasers, and green-tinged chaos of his LED-driven simulacra.
Medellín wanted an extravaganza worthy of Las Velitas and they got just that: A concert longer than most Grateful Dead shows, more gunpowder than NYC's East River on the Fourth of July, and no fewer than six surprise guests—including Rauw Alejandro, Miky Woodz, Maisak, Sech, Ryan Castro, Yandel, and ATL Jacob. (Nights two and three would feature appearances from Majid Jordan, J Balvin, Bad Bunny, Karol G, Maluma, and others). Hell, his guitarist even had a custom Fury Road -style axe that unleashed balls of fire.
'Here I can sing songs that I haven't sung on the tour because we're in Medellín,' Feid said to the sea of fans. This wasn't exactly a surprise, as the set list confirmed he performed over 50 tracks each night, from bigger hits like 'Luna' and 'Perro Negro,' to deeper cuts like 'Tengo Fe' and 'Ey Chory.'
Throughout the musical melee, Feid was in perpetual motion—embracing something between a skip and a jog. He told me later that 'I jump a lot because that's the way I get people to connect with my energy,' adding that his outfits were chosen specifically to aid his continuous kinetics. On top of rocking his collaborative Salomons, Feid later changed into a breathable Stone Island shirt, and kept his white Oakleys on all night to protect his eyes from cornea-eviscerating LEDs. 'The more comfortable I can feel when I'm performing, the better.' By the time the marathon concert ended, close to 2am, confetti was sticking to his sweat-covered skin.
On night two, I met a representative from the Guinness Book of World Records in an official-looking uniform (including a GBOWR nametag) who was there to confirm another milestone for Feid. Each night, he broke the record for the greatest distance traveled during a live musical performance on stage—more than 10 kilometers. 'This achievement is the result of teamwork, passion, and dedication. Today, you've shown that every step counts,' said the rep upon presenting him the official certificate.
The teamwork nod was on point. As Feid emphasized multiple times during our interview, 'It's not all about me, it's about a lot of people working together, sharing a dream, on the project called Feid, Ferxxo, Ferxxocalipsis. I always tell my crew, 'I want to be the bridge for you guys to make your dreams come true, too.''
This ethos was reflected in the comedown after each whirl wind performance, where the team lined the corridors leading up to the green room and chanted a victory song as every performer and crew member made their way backstage: Mira como mueve los hombritos! Y como se llama usted? ('Look at how he moves his shoulders! And what's your name?'). One by one, each passerby shouted their name, did a little dance, then received overjoyed bear hugs from dozens of people. Feid came last, and the love hit an apex —cheers, daps, jokes, more hugs. After, the entire team, including Feid's family, gathered for arepas con huevo and sopa de costilla as they went over the show highlights.
'For me, it's all about giving peace to people,' Feid explained. 'It's not like I'm selling feelings, but yes, the music is like I'm transferring emotions to the people. And those feelings translate better in person. You have to live with me in the moment and you'll get it. That's why you needed to come to Colombia to truly understand my thing.'
And Las Velitas represents the city at its most triumphant, the people experiencing a collective high. 'When you feel that energy—people out on the streets, eating chicharon, drinking cervezas and aguardiente, it's something that I'm not afraid to show the world.' Feid said. I am from this city —and I want the world to understand that.'
