It’s more than common to listen to Ziontifik’s pre Istmo material and see it proudly flying the flag of abstraction. “Nadie Más” is one of those songs. After an exhaustive examination in which I’ve tried to decipher what exactly its lyrics are trying to convey, I’ve come to the following conclusion. In the first verse, Elio and Dano establish the setting: a criminal Madrid where young people are desperately searching for freedom. Either through a shared identity rooted in and defending the old school values of the OGs, which is the case for the artists themselves, or through crime and constant hustling. After this depiction of marginal Madrid, the second verse attempts to reveal the cost of falling into the vices and pathologies of the streets. The kid who was dazzled by the myths of easy money is now being chased by death and stripped of the support of his own community. The chorus seems to draw the conclusion that art and community can save you from death or being forgotten: “Soy Ziontifik, AQT, CNK, Paseo Killaz, aunque no haya nadie más” (“I am Ziontifik, AQT, CNK, Paseo Killaz, even if there’s no one else”). Elio and Dano swear loyalty to their crews and seem to be telling us that this is how you survive the asphalt. However, as much as I love the group and this particular song, I find it difficult to look the other way if this really is the song’s thesis. Because if that is the case, presenting community as salvation from death and crime in the neighborhoods feels like a very simple and reductive take on the reality of the periphery. Secondly, depicting the neighborhood and its realities the way they do across both verses is something that has been done since the genre emerged in the 1980s, and it has been done much better than this. As a result, the song suffers when it comes to originality. Now, I can play devil’s advocate against myself and defend the song by arguing that the level of abstraction both rappers reach, along with the evocative imagery and allegories they throw out, is extremely high. But even though that is completely true, it raises the following question: “Is all this abstraction worth it when the conclusion doesn’t live up to it?” Lines like “mi fe es un viejo esclavo del alzhéimer” (“my faith is an old slave to Alzheimer’s”) or “perdió su estrella en el mar, tatuó su cara en su carne” (“he lost his star at sea, tattooed his face into his flesh”) are excellent, incredibly evocative, and surprising every time you hear them, but they lack a strong thesis to give them a sense of purpose. The journey through the rainbow is incredibly entertaining, but there’s nothing waiting for you at the end of it.