“I feel like I’m in Puerto Rico right now. Muchos gracias!” Ramón “Daddy Yankee” Ayala tells a venue full nearly to bursting with Saturday night party people. He’s probably said that to every crowd on his Europe-wide arena tour, but reggaeton’s presiding international name has a way of instilling compliments with credibility. A 25-year veteran – he’s a young-looking 42 – he practises a form of stagecraft rooted in the old-fashioned idea that he’s there to entertain, which means flattering and flirting. The mainly female crowd roars, Puerto Rican flags flutter and Daddy, viewing his people from behind black perma-shades, slides into a slinky Qué Tengo Que Hacer Projected behind him, an unsettling emoji styled to look like an infant Daddy nods along as the real deal pats his heart, overcome.

If English is ceding ground to Spanish as pop’s primary language, the gigantic success of Daddy’s Gasolina and his Luis Fonsi collaboration Despacito deserve much of the credit. Tonight’s setlist, executed with the help of a keyboardist, backing vocalists and muscular dancers, is entirely, triumphantly in Spanish. Unless he’s singing directly at the “beautiful, bonita women”, as on Dura – when he slows down to a smouldering amble – Daddy’s rap-inflected rhyming tends to be breakneck, spat so fast that non-Spanish-speakers pick up only the odd word.

Yet his show couldn’t be more inclusive. The man is a party-starter by design, and fills the set with explosive, hooky songs that need no translating, building to Despacito’s sleek tropical groove. Having sung them thousands of times has only honed his ability to drive them resoundingly home, whatever language his audience speaks. This Latino party could be an anywhere party.