Billboard Espanol
When Cuban actor Héctor Medina read the script for Los Frikis, he immediately knew he wanted the leading role of Paco. Initially contacted as a sort of consultant for the film, Medina was familiar with the story about a group of punk rockers in early ’90s Cuba who, in search of freedom, deliberately injected themselves with HIV to live in a government-administered rural treatment retreat and create their own utopia.
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“I was born in 1989. It was the year the socialist wall fell and in 1990, what is called in modern Cuban history the Special Period, began, which is a deep energetic, economic food crisis,” explains the actor in an interview with Billboard Español. Additionally, it was forbidden to listen to rock and roll and having long hair could get you arrested, he adds. “So, the Frikis were very marginalized. It’s a story that even in Cuba is very little known.”
Written and directed by American filmmakers Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz, Los Frikis, an independent film inspired by true events, arrives this week in theaters in the United States after making the rounds in the festival circuit, where it has received a variety of awards.
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Medina, who left the island about eight years ago and lives in Miami with his wife and two children, not only ended up landing his dream role, but also a credit as a co-producer thanks to his contributions to the film, which was shot in the Dominican Republic (as it could not be done in Cuba).
The movie also stars Eros de la Puente as Gustavo, Paco’s younger brother; and Adria Arjona (daughter of Guatemalan singer-songwriter Ricardo Arjona) as María, the sweet caretaker at the retreat. The cast also includes Luis Alberto García and Jorge Perugorría, among others.
Produced by Academy Award winners Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, Los Frikis received an R rating from the Motion Picture Association of America for language, sexual content, some graphic nudity and drug use. It premieres on Friday, Dec. 20 in New York and Los Angeles, and on Dec. 25 in markets including Atlanta, Boston, Chicago, San Francisco and Miami.
Below, Medina details his rigorous physical and emotional transformation process to bring Paco to life, the role music plays in the film and the reception this work has had so far.
Los Frikis
Courtesy of Wayward/Range
How did this project come to you?
The project came to me through producer Rebecca Karch Tomlinson, who contacted me to ask some questions about the dialogues and some events that happen in the script. It was more or less something like a review. Of course, I read the script and I [was] totally impressed by how two Americans have written a script about Cuba, such a believable story about my country, and how they want[ed] to do it — and also want to do it with Cubans. And of course, I also fell in love with the story and my character, Paco. From there, I said: “I want to be here, and I want to be Paco.”
Did you have to audition for the role?
Well, yes. They told me, “If you want to be Paco, you have to fight like everyone else and do the casting.” I remember that I did the last scene in the movie, and as soon as they saw the scene, they called me and said, “Are you ready? You’re going to be Paco.” From there began a very tough process of character construction and transformation that was truly a most beautiful experience, because Michael and Taylor have a very particular and very strong method of working with the actors and creating this atmosphere, and get to the point that you are not trying to play the character, but you are the character. And that allows you, once you are on set, to feel confident, to be able to improvise, because they also give you that freedom. It is a very substantial work process; there are many scenes in the film that were not in the script.
You completely disappear into the role, to the point that at the beginning of the film I was looking for you, I didn’t recognize you. How was your transformation, physically and emotionally, into this character? I know you lost weight, you have the mohawk, you lose a tooth in a scene…
It was a very intense, rigorous process. From the first day I had to give up everything gluten and sugar; I only had seltzer water as a reward and one meal a day, which was a little bit of chicken and a little bit of spinach. It included heavy training, running and walking more than four or five miles a day. Then came the process of learning to play music. Mike and Taylor are so specific that they knew every detail. For example, at that time in Cuba there were no American electric guitars, there were only Japanese guitars, Russian amplifiers, Russian basses, and the drums were made with what was found, sometimes even drawers, and they had those specific types of instruments sent to us so we [could] learn how to play them. We got to a point where we even started playing our own music and putting lyrics to it and giving concerts, like in the movie.
Music plays a fundamental role in this story, with Paco as the guitarist in his rock band. Did you play before or did you have to learn for the film?
I played acoustic guitar, but I remembered like two or three chords that they taught me in my neighborhood, back in Cuba, when I was a child, so I didn’t remember very well. In other words, working with the guitar was the most difficult for me, because on top of that, I have no musical ear, I admit. What I do have is a rock and roller spirit and being bold. And also this thing [where] I don’t like to give up, I like obstacles and I like to transform and work hard. I like a challenge.
Did you know about the real Frikis story before getting involved in this project?
Yes, I knew vaguely. I was born in 1989. It was the year the socialist wall fell and in 1990, what is called in modern Cuban history the Special Period, began, which is a deep energetic, economic food crisis. There were shortages of all types of products. In addition, there were also prohibitions: listening to rock and roll music was frowned upon, and for having long hair you could be imprisoned. So, the Frikis were very marginalized. It’s a story that even in Cuba is very little known.
I had an uncle who was a rock and roll lover, and when I was a teenager he took me to a place called Pista Rita, where they played exclusively rock and roll. Going to those places with him at 13, 14 years old, I was able to see Nelson, who was like an urban legend that we had in that town, of course with the spiked mohawk, black boots, tattoos — a very transgressive image. And yet, when I got to know him well, I remember that he handed me a cigarette and he had a great sense of protection with all the boys there. In other words, he greatly encouraged that family spirit, not a gang spirit, but music and family spirit. There was nothing illicit or illegal. It was a feeling that united us with a passion for music, for rock and roll.
From what you say, he sounds a lot like Paco, doesn’t he?
Yes. Paco’s character is not specifically based on a real character, but on several, like all the characters in the film. Paco has a lot of Papo La Bala, one of the leaders and singers of the punk rock band Eskoria in Cuba, who has since died; and he has a lot of that from my personal side, having known him [Papo La Bala].
What made you say “this role has to be mine” when you read the script?
First, the transformation I had to undergo. Second, that he was a difficult character and had a lot of energy; I wanted to do something like that, different. And also, perhaps most importantly, that as a Cuban artist I wanted to say many things that Paco also says — and feels. Feeling that almost kamikaze spirit of freedom above all else, I wanted to share that. I think that was what drove me the most.
You’re not only the leading actor, you are also credited as co-producer. What was your role in that regard?
I think what I did the most was contribute. I mean, I wanted this movie to happen so badly, I wanted this dream to come true so much, that without realizing it I began to contribute to the casting, to writing the lyrics of the songs, changing them and a little bit [of] the scenes. I got involved a lot. In fact, I even designed the logo that appears at the beginning, the Lord Miller logo. I have done so many things. And I feel so grateful and so good that I have always done that. Every time I go into a project I give my all, but the truth is that it is the first time that they have recognized me not only for doing my job as an actor. I think it says a lot about the producers and directors of this film. I am very grateful to them.
Now that Los Frikis will reach a wider audience after its festival run, what do you hope people take away from it?
I really don’t expect anything. I have a very nice feeling about this film through the different screenings we have been to. It is a tremendous delight to turn around and see people’s faces. I believe that it is not an educational film or one that has a specific verbal message for people, but rather a management of a bundle of emotions, a journey of various emotions that in the end stirs your soul and leaves you thinking and perhaps doing what I call the movie after the movie. I think that is the greatest achievement of this film. More important than a verbal message, is that of an emotion, and it shows.
Héctor Medina
Carlos Eric Lopez
In North Miami’s Electric Air Studios, surrounded by a collection of Gibson guitars, a grand piano and various percussion instruments, Edgar Barrera earlier in December found himself in an unusual position: in the spotlight.
“I’m not used to this,” Barrera admits, dressed in Prada shoes and a Chanel jacket. His voice carries a hint of vulnerability as he debates whether to smile or maintain a serious demeanor for the camera. This rare moment of hesitation from a man who is usually so sure-footed in the recording studio underscores the paradox of Edgar Barrera: a towering figure in Latin music who is most often behind the scenes.
This year, the 34-year-old further cemented his formidable impact in the music industry. He ends 2024 with 23 song credits as a songwriter and 19 as a producer on the Billboard Hot 100, with tracks ranging from pop stars like Maluma, Shakira and Karol G to música mexicana mavericks like Peso Pluma, Grupo Frontera and Carín León. He just secured his second consecutive nomination for the Grammy Awards’ songwriter of the year, standing out as the only Latino and only producer to achieve this distinction for two straight years. He also garnered three Latin Grammys, which included consecutive wins for songwriter of the year and producer of the year. Barrera, who topped Billboard’s Hot Latin Songs Producers year-end chart in 2023 and finishes 2024 at No. 2, is a key player designing the sound of modern-day Latin music.
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“Edgar is someone who knows what he wants, and that, to me, is something that sets him apart from all other songwriters,” says Peso Pluma, who is with Barrera in the studio the day of this photo shoot. Barrera has collaborated with the música mexicana hit-maker on several tracks, including “14-14” and “Santal 33,” from Peso’s groundbreaking album Éxodo (2024), which debuted at No. 5 on the Billboard 200. “He is someone very dedicated with a lot of values, a very educated person who respects you musically as an artist,” adds the “Vino Tinto” hit-maker.
Peso is one of the many artists who have praised Barrera’s steadfast work ethic and humility. “He is one of the most important producers of our time and yet he is one of the most humble human beings,” Maluma says. “He is the same person as the day he started and that’s an amazing quality to have.” The Colombian superstar attributed many of his hits to his collaboration with Barrera, including “Según Quién” with Carín León, “Por Qué Será” with Grupo Frontera and most recently “Cosas Pendientes.”
Over a decade into his career, Barrera’s adeptness in straddling diverse musical genres has rendered him one of the most coveted songwriters and producers in Latin music. His portfolio boasts extensive work with household names like Shakira (“Soltera”), Christian Nodal (“No Te Contaron Mal”), Grupo Firme (“Ya Supérame”), Camilo (“Vida de Rico”), Becky G (“Chanel”) and Marc Anthony (“De Vuelta Pa’ la Vuelta”), in addition to non-Latin stars such as Ariana Grande (“Boyfriend” with Social House), Madonna (“Medellín” with Maluma), XXXTentacion and Lil Pump (“Arms Around You” with Maluma and Swae Lee) and Shawn Mendes (his “KESI” remix with Camilo). In January 2021, he made history by topping four Billboard genre charts — pop, rhythm, tropical and regional Mexican airplay — with four different tracks, an unprecedented feat for a Latin songwriter.
But how did this “border kid” raised between Roma, Texas, and Miguel Allende, Tamaulipas, Mexico, harness his unique cross-cultural experiences to rise as one of the most in-demand songwriters and producers in Latin music?
Barrera grew up in a home filled with music. His father, a member of the 1970s grupera band Mister Chivo from San Miguel Allende, instilled in him a deep passion for music; and discovering his uncle’s songwriting credits on an Elvis Crespo album further fueled Barrera’s musical ambitions.
“In my house, there was always music playing all the time. All those nights I would see my dad listening and listening to vinyl because his band recorded a lot of covers,” Barrera says. “One time, my uncle bought an Elvis Crespo record that had one of his songs in the credits, and I realized that there is a part in music where you don’t have to be the artist but part of the artist’s career.”
Mary Beth Koeth
While he was raised in Mexico, he regularly crossed back into the United States for schooling — a common occurrence in border towns. However, Barrera’s passion for Latin music often put him at odds with the school’s more rigid musical curriculum. “I remember that in school I was scolded all the time. It was forbidden to play grupera songs or any other type of music other than the classical music they taught us, or jazz,” he recalls. Yet, this didn’t deter him, and together with like-minded classmates, they indulged in the joys of playing songs like the Mexican ska-punk track “Pachuco” from Maldita Vecindad y Los Hijos del 5to Patio, “Carnavalito” or the Mexican cumbia of “Juana La Cubana” by Fito Olivares y Su Grupo. During these school years, he played the saxophone. (As a preteen, he had already learned both bass and guitar.)
“All these young musicians from across the Rio Grande Valley would gather to compete and form a unified band made up of the most talented musicians from each school,” recalls Marco Roel Rangel, a fellow bandmate from McAllen, Texas, who remembers Barrera as a standout musician nearly 20 years ago. “Once a year you’d get to play in a band comprised of all the other top musicians from other schools for one weekend. The Roma [Edgar’s school] kids, who were formidable competitors, would walk into the rehearsal space playing a synchronized song they had prepared called ‘Carnavalito.’ Almost like [saying], ‘Hey, we’re from Roma and we’ve entered the building,’ ” Roel Rangel says. “It was unusual to hear this Latin tribal sound. But Roma brought that Latin flavor; going from Tchaikovsky and Pavel to ‘El Humahuaqueño’ is a vibe.”
“I remember we were the rebels at school when we played those,” Barrera says. “We felt like we were playing the forbidden, and at the end of the day it was what I liked to play.”
When it came to college, Barrera initially enrolled as an electronic engineering student and took a classical guitar class. “That’s when I started studying music more seriously.” His guitar teacher urged him to audition for the Berklee College of Music. Instead, he took a detour to the Miami music studio of Colombian songwriter-producer Andrés Castro, a revered figure in Latin music known for penning some of Carlos Vives’ greatest hits.
“I met Edgar through a friend of mine, Luigi, who worked with A.B. Quintanilla. He was 18, 19 years old and was studying electronic engineering. He wanted to do an internship because it was going to be worth it for his career. They were deciding whether he should study that or music,” Castro recalls.
Castro, almost offhand, told Barrera he was welcome to come work in his studio. Barrera took him at his word and drove from Texas to Miami. “Obviously, it was a life change to come to live here. He was committed to his career to the fullest. And the first thing I can highlight about him was his attitude of service.
“He arrived and instead of thinking, ‘Well, it’s an internship, I’m not getting paid, I’m going to stay put,’ he was looking to see who he could make a coffee for. If he had to take an artist and pick them up at the airport, he would pick them up,” Castro continues. This eagerness to serve, learn and genuinely connect with others in the industry rapidly transformed Barrera from a hopeful intern to a respected collaborator.
“I started from the bottom, being the one who went and brought everyone’s food, the one who served the coffee,” Barrera says. “But thanks to that I also learned to never look down on anyone’s work, much less the one who serves me coffee, because maybe tomorrow he could be the next producer of the year, or songwriter of the year, as it happened to me. I had the opportunity to meet many artists and industry executives.”
Mary Beth Koeth
Castro remembers the bonds that were nurtured in the studio. “When an artist like Carlos Vives came to the studio, we would do more than just make music. We discussed life, what he desired, what he was searching for, his thoughts, the moment he was living, the music he was listening to and things that had caught his attention. That’s where the creative process began. Edgar saw a lot of that in the studio.”
The Colombian producer also vividly recalls a defining moment early in Barrera’s career. During a session with the renowned Panamanian singer-songwriter Omar Alfanno, the young Barrera, who was typically expected to just observe, proposed an idea for a song that Castro and Alfanno were struggling with. Initially surprised, Alfanno cautioned him, “Young man, that’s not how things are done,” Castro remembers, highlighting the respect required during songwriting sessions. However, impressed by Barrera’s insight, Alfanno gave him a chance, marking Barrera’s official entry into the world of professional songwriting.
As Barrera’s career flourished, Latin music also underwent dynamic shifts. In the late 2010s, while música urbana’s popularity soared — with reggaetón’s commercial growth eclipsing other Latin genres — regional Mexican music began to carve out a new and thrilling identity. While the south-of-the-U.S.-Mexico border genre had remained an enduring force within Spanish-speaking communities in the United States and Mexico for decades, a regional Mexican-urbano hybrid began to ascend Billboard’s U.S. Latin charts, led by Natanael Cano, Junior H and Fuerza Regida, followed by Peso Pluma.
Parallel to this movement was the music of Christian Nodal, a Sonoran superstar who innovates within the confines of música mexicana with his unique blend known as “mariacheño,” a fusion of mariachi and norteño music. His groundbreaking approach reached a new height in 2021, when “Botella Tras Botella,” a collaboration with Mexican rapper Gera MX — co-written and co-produced by Barrera — became the first regional Mexican music track to enter the all-genre Hot 100 chart.
Nodal praises the creativity and connection present in his work with Barrera: “Working with Edgar was always a lot of fun. There was always an instant connection on the songs. He came from the urbano school, and bringing him into my world was always a challenge,” Nodal explains. “I think that’s why we were able to reach a middle ground between urbano and regional. We always had very good chemistry, and we found the lyrics and melodies that could touch the heart so that people could enjoy it and feel it. It was always genuine.”
Among Barrera’s major bets was the 2022 signing of Grupo Frontera, a popular six-piece band from Edinburg, Texas, to BorderKid Records — an imprint the songwriter had launched earlier that year. Grupo Frontera was fresh off its first major hit, “No Se Va,” which peaked at No. 3 on the Hot Latin Songs chart.
“He took a chance on us when we were just starting out,” Grupo Frontera says in a statement. “We didn’t even know what we were doing and he has been with us every step of the way. Our bond with Edgar is extra special because we are from the same town. We have similar values and traditions, and he really understands us. That’s reflected in the music we make together.” Barrera adds: “They share with me a very similar growth because we grew up on the border, we have many friends in common, they are from my town. We have the same values, and we understand each other very well when we work.”
Mary Beth Koeth
“Aside from being technically one of the best and very detail-oriented — everyone who works with me knows I am, and he is always up to the task — the amazing thing about Edgar is his ability to bring together artists, composers and producers and always make sure that things get done with the right team to achieve the best result,” says Shakira, who collaborated with Barrera on her latest hits such as “Soltera,” “El Jefe” with Fuerza Regida and “(Entre Paréntesis)” with Grupo Frontera. “Many songwriters do not combine all the elements and ensure the ideas are carried out, but he has as much of a business mind as he does an artistic one.”
“I’m a creative before I’m an executive, and I give a lot of freedom to artists,” Barrera adds, emphasizing his commitment to his relationships with them. “When it comes to business, I try to educate the songwriter,” he says. “I help them make their own publishing company, and then we make a business together — your publisher with my publisher. I try not to be their owner but partner. We [at BorderKid Records] are a tool for them, to help them make more money, and that they own their music always.”
Within this framework of mutual growth, Barrera continues to push musical boundaries. “A lot of new experiments with artists are coming; we’re experimenting with new things,” he says about upcoming music.
Barrera’s role fluctuates between mentor and musical collaborator and innovator. Recently, for example, he spent time with Shakira as she prepares for her 2025 Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran stadium tour, making new arrangements for her live band. He’s been working on new music with Peso Pluma, and, also, with Karol G. “The day after [working with Peso], I worked with Karol another three days in a row, and it’s always a breath of fresh air making corridos with Peso one day to then doing another kind of music with Karol,” Barrera says. “I like it because I don’t get to do the same thing with one artist and then the other.”
However, despite the exhilarating pace of his professional life, Barrera is embracing a new personal development: fatherhood. “I just became a dad,” he says proudly. “I’m in another stage for the first time in life looking for that balance.”
I asked Barrera if his songwriting process has changed since. “Yes, a lot,” he says. “Now I’m thinking, like when I write a lyric, ‘When my daughter hears it, she’s going to think this was her dad.’ You think twice. But I’ve always tried to give a good message in the songs.”
This fall, two months after Venezuela’s disputed presidential election plunged the country into crisis — with Nicolás Maduro claiming victory despite overwhelming evidence he’d lost — six of the country’s most influential figures convened in Miami for what some of them considered a historic conversation.
Despite the travel challenges posed by Hurricane Helene, Danny Ocean managed to arrive from Mexico, Elena Rose made it from Italy, and the rest — Nacho, Mau y Ricky and Lele Pons — met them at a studio in Coconut Grove.
All of these artists are part of a growing wave of Venezuelan musicians who are succeeding at levels perhaps not seen since the 1980s, when stars like Oscar D’Leon, “El Puma” José Luis Rodríguez or Ricardo Montaner had successful careers outside of their home country.
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This year, there are more than 20 Latin Grammy Award nominees from Venezuela — including Elena Rose, Danny Ocean and Mau y Ricky, with multiple nods each — and a greater presence of Venezuelans on the Billboard charts. But the artists who are here today have not only stood out globally with their music — or in Lele Pons’ case, as a social media content creator — but also use their voices to speak out about the political strife in their home country, a cause close to their hearts.
Until the July election, the concert business had been a rare bright spot for Venezuela’s economy: Luis Miguel and Karol G filled stadiums in Caracas with their spectacular tours in February and March, respectively, and there were others scheduled. But an artist like Nacho, who until recently lived part time in Venezuela, has not been able to sing in public in his country since 2016, presumably for criticizing the government.
In Miami, Mau y Ricky chat animatedly with Nacho, reminiscing about better times in Venezuela. Elena Rose and Lele Pons give each other a sisterly hug. A rugged Danny Ocean arrives straight from the airport and greets everyone with a wide smile.
At 41, Nacho is the oldest of the group by a decade. He paved the way for them as a Venezuelan musician — first as part of his popular duo with Chino Miranda and later with a successful solo career — and the respect they have for him is evident. “You made us understand that it is possible to make it when things are difficult,” Danny Ocean tells him about Chino y Nacho, who achieved international fame in 2010, when there were practically no singers coming out of Venezuela.
Unlike superstars from Mexico, Colombia or Puerto Rico, who started in their countries with the support of a local industry and then went international, all, with the exception of Nacho, have built their careers outside of Venezuela, having left as children or teenagers, as in the case of Mau y Ricky, Elena Rose and Lele Pons, or right before his first release, like Danny Ocean with “Me Rehúso,” the song that put him on the map in 2016, in which he already sang about pain of emigrating leaving behind a loved one.
Today, multinational record companies practically don’t have a presence in the country, and most local artists are independently produced. “There is no industry as such, really, with a solid base in Venezuela,” Elena Rose will later explain. Gone was the boom of the ’80s, when great talents like Yordano, Frank Quintero, Karina, Kiara and more flourished nationally with the support of labels like SonoRodven and Sonográfica, as well as a law that forced radio stations to play a song by a Venezuelan artist for every song by a non-native act.
At the time of this interview, two months have passed since the consequential presidential elections of July 28, when the Venezuelan electoral authority declared Maduro the winner with 51.2% of the votes (although it has not shown proper documentation that support the results) and the opposition denounced irregularities in the count and stated that its candidate, Edmundo González, had obtained almost 70% of the votes. The demonstrations that followed turned violent due to the repression of the Armed Forces and police, with dozens of deaths and more than 2,000 detained. An arrest warrant against González has led him to seek asylum in Spain, and opposition leader María Corina Machado has been forced to take shelter.
Today, this group has gathered to speak openly about the roles they play as musicians in the context of Venezuela’s politics and society. Just before starting, Elena Rose says, “We have not prayed today.” We all hold hands and Mau does the honors, finishing with gratitude: “Thank you for allowing us and giving us this platform to talk a little more about who we are and where we come from.”
From left: Mau Montaner, Ricky Montaner, Lele Pons, Danny Ocean, Elena Rose, Nacho and Sigal Ratner-Arias photographed on Sept. 26, 2024 at Grove Studio in Miami.
Ingrid Fajardo
Nacho, since you’ve been doing this the longest, what do you feel when you see this kind of renaissance of Venezuelan musicians?
Nacho: Pride. I feel very proud when I hear from everyone wherever I am in the world, because we Venezuelans have gone through many difficulties. But something that these difficulties have left is the fact that we all feel part of the same family. Like when we met this morning, right? We felt like we were cousins or family in some way. We use the same lexicon; we almost always have stories in common with Venezuela and we feel close.
What do you think has unleashed this new wave of talent?
Nacho: The desire, the drive, the disposition, the responsibility that characterizes us as Venezuelans. And of course, I suppose that social media has played an important role and has been sort of an escape door for us in the face of the difficulties that Venezuelan talents face to be able to export their music. Because there is a need for a lot of music industry culture in Venezuela, and I believe that talent cannot be covered with a finger. When I talk about Venezuelan talents, you realize that everyone plays an instrument, everyone writes, everyone has a lot to say through their songs.
That is something that has also caught my attention, how the lyrics of Venezuelan artists tend to be very deep. They say that art is often a response to sublimation and repression.
Elena Rose: I dare say that, in this particular group of people here, what stands out is sensitivity and humanity. I feel that if we were born again, we would choose things to happen in the same way that we have experienced them. But at the same time, I think it goes much further. I think that when we make music, we do it in such an intentional way, really, so from our soul, so wanting to leave something behind, that all the sacrifices we’ve made are worth it.
Elena Rose
Mary Beth Koeth
Danny Ocean: Yes, I think that we all write based on our angle and our perspectives of the things that we have all experienced. I think art is about that, about each person writing through their eyes and sensations. I make music because I love music, I need to write.
Everyone here has publicly expressed their frustration and feelings about what a long list of organizations and governments have pointed out as electoral fraud in Venezuela, and the repression that followed the elections. Most of the comments on your social media are positive, but some have written that artists should dedicate themselves to being artists and not get involved in politics. Do you feel that artists have a duty to speak out?
Lele Pons: If it’s not us pushing people, who is going to do it? Because many times people are afraid, and because we do it or people you admire do it — if you admire Elena or Danny or Nacho and they do it and they speak for you, it also pushes you to speak. That is our power, communication, so that everyone knows what is happening, not just us [Venezuelans].
Mau: Beyond me thinking that it can generate a change or not, for me the important thing is that people … feel that Ricky and I have their backs and that we are with them. Many times, when you are going through something, what you need, beyond a voice, [is] people to hold on to so you can say, “I’m not in this alone.”
Mau Montaner
Mary Beth Koeth
Lele, you also used your enormous social media platform for an Instagram Live with Venezuelan opposition leader María Corina Machado for which Maduro later mentioned you in a speech. What did you think when all this happened?
Lele Pons: Well, I think it’s the most important thing I’ve done in my career. Because being an influencer is helping. It’s a way to be a leader. And if I can help another leader to talk to people who don’t know what is happening, because I have an audience that [is not all Venezuelans] … When I made a video [about the situation in Venezuela], I did it in Italian, I did it in English and I did it in Spanish so that everyone knows what’s happening, so that they can share, repost and use my platform, so that [María Corina Machado] would have a voice. I listen and I see what people are saying, what they tell me: “Please help me. This is going on.” And I go, “Jeez! I’m here, what can I do?” I use everything I have to help, so that people know and the world knows too.
Danny, Nacho, after the July 28 elections, you two called on the Armed Forces and police to avoid the use of violence against demonstrators. Nacho, you even said, “I promised my family, for everyone’s safety, that I would not do this again, but I can’t see what is going on in the country and stay silent.” Have you feared for your life while in Venezuela?
Nacho: The truth is, no, but not because something bad can’t happen, but because for some reason — I don’t know if it’s because I’ve had a closer encounter with God — death is something that doesn’t mortify me as much … But definitely there are people around you who may tell you, “The actions you have taken have had an impact on my stability, on my tranquility, on my integrity.” Then you start to feel guilty, because these are people that you love, that you have around. Or “Look, they took my job away because they found out I’m your cousin.” Or “They don’t want to do anything with me anymore because they know I’m your friend.” Or “They shut down my business because they saw me in a photo with you or hanging out with you.” So, more than fearing for myself, those were actually the repercussions that worried me when it came to expressing myself. But there are bigger purposes than that.
Danny Ocean
Mary Beth Koeth
Danny, you released an EP dedicated to Venezuela days before the elections, venequia., and you called on your fans who had relatives in the Armed Forces or the police to talk to them to make them see reason to avoid the use of violence. What is your message to them today?
Danny Ocean: For me, the issue of Venezuela stopped being political a long time ago. For me, it is already a humanitarian issue. We are surely in the top three countries with the most displaced people in the world … We have [almost 8] million people who have had to leave our country, leave everything, leave a life to look for a better future, and that is not right. So, why did I do venequia.? Because … eight years after having to leave Venezuela, I am still seeing the numbers [of emigrants] increasing and saying, “But nothing is happening.” And the video I made calling the families of the military, because it’s true. I mean, we need a change.
Elena Rose: And something that happens to us a lot, for example, when we arrive in another country, when a Venezuelan sees us, it is as if they see fresh water and they’re hot. It’s happened to me that someone hugs me and tells me, “I haven’t seen my dad in years, I have been separated from my children for years.” Those are the kind of things [they say that go] beyond the limit of what we can accept … What do you say to that person? Something I always do; I like to pray with them at that moment, and my message has always been to nourish faith. I really don’t want any Venezuelan to surrender without seeing their country free.
Lele Pons: Knowing that you are on the right side of history, that you go to sleep and say, “I did something good today, I am proud of my friends, of my family, of what is happening,” gives you peace. Even if you can often lose friends or followers or whatever, you don’t have to care … It’s not political. It’s for the people.
Lele Pons
Mary Beth Koeth
Elena Rose: (To Danny Ocean.) The night before [venequia.] came out, I remember that you called me, and we talked for about an hour about how you felt at the moment. And these are the things that people don’t see and don’t know…
How did you feel, Danny?
Danny Ocean: Distraught.
Elena Rose: We both did! We were like, “OK, this is going to happen, and after we cross this line, it’s going to be OK.” But at the same time, I remember telling you, “This has been in your heart for a long time and you have to say that now.” … It is a love letter to Venezuela, as is your album [Hotel Caracas] too, [Mau y Ricky], as is [our song] “Caracas en el 2000,” which at the end of the day was also what we always talked about: I want this to be a hug for Venezuelans and for Venezuela.
Mau and Ricky, speaking of Hotel Caracas, you traveled to Venezuela for the first time in many years to shoot all the videos for the album, as well as a documentary which is nominated for a Latin Grammy. You were able to reunite with Venezuela and really get to know the country.
Ricky: It was like a personal need of knowing who the f–k I am … I was 10 when I left Venezuela, and my reality of Venezuela and Caracas was different. My father [singer Ricardo Montaner] was kidnapped when I was 6, so my relationship [with Venezuela] was almost toxic. There were 20 years of fears of thinking that I was going to get there and get killed or something… So, when we started making Hotel Caracas, which is an album where we are returning to our creative beginnings as well, we realized that we needed go back to where we are from … Being able to stand up in a stadium in Argentina and say, “¡Viva Venezuela!,” and not feel that the people there would say, “Oh, how cute, they say they are from Venezuela, but they haven’t gone.” I felt imposter syndrome; I didn’t want to feel that anymore. And I got there and felt their pride in saying, “I’m so proud of what you’ve accomplished out there and how you’re representing us.” That, for us, became our motivation. So, making Hotel Caracas was literally, “How can we carry this communication on another side as well?” And our way was going back to Venezuela, making a movie, employing 200 people there, investing an absurd amount of money in the country for hope and for telling people, “Hey, what we are fighting for is worth it. Look at the people of this country. Look at the talent and that we can make an entire movie in Venezuela.”
Ricky Montaner
Mary Beth Koeth
A year ago, international artists were returning to Venezuela to play massive shows, something that had not been done in many years. You have not had the chance to do that. Do you hope that will happen for you one day?
Ricky: My biggest dream is imagining us returning to Venezuela with our people singing. Obviously now it can become very uncomfortable for us … because we have clear opinions of where we stand, so stepping on a stage and not communicating a truth is very complicated. There are real threats, there are things happening that are serious.
Danny Ocean: Look, I’m going to be very frank and excuse me, I’m going to try to choose the best words. I’m not thinking about concerts … All I want is for this to end and for us to be calm and be able to walk in peace … I’m not saying that Venezuela is not suitable for concerts; I believe that people deserve joy, I believe that people deserve to be able to enjoy [concerts]. But personally, I can’t think right now about a show in Venezuela knowing the critical situation we are in. With electricity problems, with water problems, with basic needs.
Elena Rose: There are many things that are missing in Venezuela [also] regarding the music industry. The concert is like the last thing that in theory should happen. There is no industry as such, really, with a solid base in Venezuela. There are many things that are happening with artists who are there, who have other needs than ours, who have fewer opportunities to say no, to put it that way. Unfortunately, there has not been a good education for the artists to explain to them the value of their art, that it is not OK to give away what is truly priceless, that no one should be able to say to you, “Give me [your song] and take this.” I have seen cases that hurt me a lot.
Can you give an example?
Elena Rose: Yes. There are wonderful, super talented songwriters there, and they tell them, “Look, I’ll give you 500 dollars for your song and you no longer have any power over it.” And the person who is really struggling says yes.
In Colombia, music has caused a tangible change in how the country is perceived. Do you think the same thing could happen with Venezuela?
Nacho: I think it can happen, but we need to count on the resources that Colombia has. For example, consumer platforms that generate dividends for artists through streams, through views. You see a Venezuelan artist succeeding abroad, and perhaps Venezuela does not appear as the country that consumes their music the most. If you check which are the countries that consume me the most, Mexico is No. 1 and Venezuela is 17, and it’s not that there are not more Venezuelans who follow my career than Mexicans, but that there is no industry. That’s the problem. And for there to be an industry we need to change the reality of the country, start to see what is best for us in terms of the economy so that things begin to move the way they are moving in Colombia … In our country, we are survivors, really.
Nacho
Mary Beth Koeth
Ricky: To give you an idea, on Spotify Mexico, a No.1 can be 2 million streams in a day, while in Venezuela it can be 8,000. I mean…
Everything is relative…
Danny Ocean: The numbers aren’t condensed into one place. Our numbers are scattered. So, since there is no industry to be able to concentrate the numbers in one place, in the end we are not attractive … There is great work to do.
Nacho: The thing is that our main market is not our main market … Because you say, [if] a Venezuelan is achieving this level of consumption, it is because he is conquering the world around Venezuela. So, it is not a fair fight for us. And obviously — without detracting from the wonderful talents and numbers that artists from Colombia are achieving, or our colleagues who we love and adore and follow and admire — for us it is definitely a little more difficult.
Mau: And I’ll tell you something that I find very interesting. Listening to you speak, Nacho, heals many things in me … It is beautiful to know that there are other people living the same thing as you. You know? It’s very nice to know that, damn, I’m not alone and that maybe I, a little bit foolishly, should have taken refuge with my Venezuelan colleagues before. Why do I think that is happening what’s happening with Venezuelan artists in the world right now? Precisely because we are more united than ever. I think that is the difference and that is why it is happening, because I think we are realizing something what Colombia realized a while ago. And Puerto Rico, of course. They understood that to be able to carry and take out and make people on the outside talk too — “Wow, you’re from Colombia! From where J Balvin is!” You know, that wasn’t just J Balvin, that was them grabbing each other and saying, “Hey, let’s go into this together.”
Nacho: But that’s this generation. We come from generation that was quite separated, where egos won all the time and the competition was between who is going to achieve the most things without understanding. And that is why I bring up technology, because now you can see with numbers what you can achieve through unity … Now the new generations are being trained with knowledge and education about the music industry. And it is not only motivated by unity, by knowing that together we are more, but also knowing that we are enhancing what we are doing.
Music and the arts in general have the power to help us deal with hardship. How do you feel it has helped you as artists and as people?
Ricky: Music is my great love. Music is everything to me. I don’t remember a time in my life where there was a plan B.
Elena Rose: I always say that music dedicated so many songs to me, that I can only dedicate my life to music. Through music I feel like I got to know God more, because I can’t put God into words, and I can’t put into words what I feel when I listen to music.
Lele Pons: You all are so talented, and you write music. But for me, since I was little, I used music as therapy, as a way to communicate because I didn’t talk much. I don’t talk that much in my videos either, so I put on music so that it speaks for me in my videos.
Music can change lives. Music can change hearts. Do you feel that it can help change the course of history?
Elena Rose: Wherever there is music, and someone who wants to listen to it, there is love.
Danny Ocean: Sigmund Freud said that music is to the soul what gymnastics is to the body. I very much agree with that.
In the history of the Billboard Latin Music Awards, a number of Latin icons — such as Celia Cruz (1994), Vicente Fernández (1998) and Daddy Yankee (2021) — have been inducted into the Hall of Fame. The special award is given to artists who have achieved worldwide recognition for their work, transcending musical genres and […]
Venezuelan singer/songwriter and producer NOREH has signed a record deal with 5020 Records, Billboard Español can exclusively announce Wednesday (Sep. 11).
“We are extremely pleased to welcome NOREH as a new member of the 5020 Records family,” Rafa Arcaute, president of 5020 Records, says in a press release. “His innovative approach to music and his ability to connect with audiences on a deep level make him the perfect addition to our roster of artists. We are excited about the opportunity to support his artistic development and help him achieve even greater success.”
Featured in our monthly column for emerging artists On the Radar Latin last February, when he played his first concert in the United States, NOREH has been rising in the Latin music scene since 2020, when he debuted as an independent artist with the album Asocial. This was followed by the live album Nada Íntimo (2021) and Mucho TXT (2023), an eclectic LP that included urban music, ballads, bolero, salsa and bossa nova.
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His latest release is BALADAS TATUADAS VOL. 1, a deeply personal EP launched in March this year, in which he reflects on the ups and downs of his life while exploring themes of melancholy.
“NOREH represents 5020’s artistic vision, anchored in originality, versatility and creative honesty. We couldn’t be prouder to welcome him to the family,” says Bruno Duarte, co-president of 5020 Records.
Adds NOREH: “Being part of 5020 is exciting because, like me, they believe in daring songs with soul […] I hope to live up to the other artists in the roster; I am Venezuelan and I bring with me my people, who have brought me here, and I am sure that we will all be a great team.”
The terms of the contract were not specified.
The artist, who has collaborated with established names like Jay Wheeler, Nacho, CNCO, and Servando & Florentino, is currently in the midst of his Baladas Tatuadas Tour, which has taken him through his native Venezuela, parts of the U.S., Spain and South America.
Two years after making his acting debut in the miniseries Once Upon a Time… But Not Anymore, Sebastián Yatra is taking a leap to Broadway, where he will close out 2024 starring in the musical Chicago. The Colombian star will spend four weeks playing the charmingly corrupt lawyer Billy Flynn, from Monday, Nov. 25 to Sunday, Dec. 22.
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“It’s news that I’ve been eager to share for a long time,” Yatra tells Billboard Español on Wednesday (Sep. 4) from Medellín. “This is not only big for me but for Colombia, big for Latinos to keep doing these kinds of things.”
Set in the 1920s, Chicago —the longest-running American musical on Broadway after almost three decades— is a scathing satire of how show business and the media make celebrities out of criminals. With a book by Fred Ebb and Bob Fosse, music by John Kander and lyrics by Ebb, it includes killer songs like “All That Jazz,” “Cell Block Tango” and “Mr. Cellophane”.
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The role of Billy Flynn — famously played by Richard Gere in the 2002 film adaptation — will receive the Latin treatment from Yatra, who hopes to bring some of his contemporary and tropical flair.
“Latinos have something special even when we are speaking English, there is a lot of love within us, a lot of passion,” says the singer-songwriter, known for No. 1 hits on the Billboard Latin Airplay chart like “Tacones Rojos,” “Un Año” with Reik and “Robarte un Beso” with Carlos Vives. “I think I can offer a perspective from someone who is living in 2024 at almost 30, how he sees that world, also knowing that I could have perfectly been a lawyer and could be that person standing there. Thank God Billy and I don’t share the same values, because that would be messed up!” he adds with a laugh.
Over the years, Chicago has invited various Latin stars to join the musical for brief seasons. The list includes Colombian actress Sofia Vergara, who in 2009 played Matron “Mama” Morton, and Mexican singer and actor Jaime Camil, who in 2016 portrayed Billy Flynn.
Yatra says that he received the invitation to join the cast about six months ago via email, and, although he was very surprised, he did not hesitate to accept this new challenge immediately.
“Many times you get a proposal like this and it’s easy to get scared and say, ‘Oh no, I’m not an actor, better leave it for another time, in a couple of years’. But opportunities come when they come in life and if you don’t dare to take them, you don’t know if they’ll come again,” he says, adding that now, “it’s the right moment” as he is just starting working on his fourth studio album, whose first single, “Los Domingos,” was released last week.
The artist, who said he was fascinated 12 years ago when he saw Ricky Martin performing as Che in the Broadway musical Evita, has already received the endorsement of his Puerto Rican friend and colleague, who commented on Wednesday on Yatra’s Instagram post about his foray into the theater Mecca of New York: “That’s it 🙌 We will be there, little brother. Absolutely. Congratulations.”
Currently preparing remotely, learning his lines and taking acting classes, Yatra is due to arrive in New York City to start in-person rehearsals a month prior to his debut. It’s an experience he is really looking forward to.
“Living in New York in December, with the snow, doing Broadway, is something I really want to live very much in the present, enjoy it, learn from it,” he said. “There are a million things to learn from all these people — the actors, the crew, the directors, the production. It’s impeccable. I was watching the play in New York City recently and it really runs like clockwork, so being able to adjust to become one more piece of that clock is going to be beautiful.”
Chicago is presented at the Ambassador Theatre (219 W. 49th St.) For more information and to purchase tickets, visit www.ChicagoTheMusical.com.
Chayanne strides into a rehearsal space at Blue Dolphin Studios in Miami, dressed in black from head to toe — tight pants and shirt, crisp blazer, formal leather shoes — and warmly embraces his manager, his assistant, his creative director. He then extends his hand to greet the photographer waiting for a cover shoot. “Nice to meet you,” he says with a broad smile. “I’m Chayanne.”
“I think we all know who you are here,” I say lightly, but Chayanne stops and turns to look at me.
“No,” he tells me without reproach, his smile intact and his voice firm. “My dad taught me that no matter where you are, you say hello and introduce yourself. You can’t assume people know who you are.”
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And just like that, this encounter becomes another among a long list of anecdotes about Elmer Figueroa Arce, better known as Chayanne. The artist who goes out to dinner and gets up multiple times to greet his fans. The performer who’s first to arrive at rehearsals and the last to leave. The star who greets housekeepers by name and dances with them in the hallways. The guy who runs in the mornings, alone.
“He is an exemplary father, an exemplary husband; good-looking, tall; he dances; he’s the perfect man,” says Henry Cárdenas, CEO of Cárdenas Marketing Network, which has produced Chayanne’s tours for decades, including his upcoming global arena trek. “He’s been a guy untainted by scandal. [Chayanne has been married to Marilisa Maronesse for over 30 years and has two children with her: Lorenzo and Isadora, the latter also a singer.] I’ve known him for years. I’ve spent a lot of time with him, and what you see is who he is. He’s the guy who interrupts his golf game to take a photo with a fan.”
Today, at this studio in Miami, Chayanne reveals yet another facet of himself: that of the impeccable perfectionist who, at 56 years old — and looking 15 years younger — is preparing to start the longest tour of his career.
The Bailemos Otra Vez (Let’s Dance Again) tour, which takes its name from the hit album released last year, begins Aug. 21 at the SAP Center in San Jose, Calif. It will stop in 40 arenas in 39 cities in North America, ending in Miami on Dec. 15, and then continue to Latin America and Spain.
Chayanne photographed on July 18, 2024 at Blue Dolphin Studios in Miami.
Mary Beth Koeth
“You’re backstage, you haven’t come out, they dim the lights, and everyone starts shouting, ‘Chayanne, Chayanne!’” he replies when I ask how he stays motivated after so many years of performing. He closes his eyes for a moment.
“It’s awesome. Because it’s been many years, but it’s an inexplicable feeling … I started at 10 years old, and I just turned 56. I say it calmly and with joy, because I feel so good, and I have lived the stages of my life with passion, with joy, with emotion. And I have also grown professionally, personally. All of that has shaped the person you have in front of you, but also the people who are going to see the show. Because I didn’t do this alone. They all grew up with me too.”
Talking to Chayanne feels a little like talking to a close friend, albeit a super handsome, super charismatic one who also happens to be among the most revered Latin artists in the world.
Today, we’re chatting in front of a rehearsal stage, designed to exactly replicate his tour set, where he has been practicing seven hours a day for the past six weeks. This interview break is an anomaly, because when Chayanne is in tour prep mode, he shuts down everything else — though he has been preparing for this for decades.
Chayanne began his professional music career at the age of 10. As a member of Puerto Rican boy band Los Chicos, he played stadiums, traveled on private planes and celebrated birthdays in hotels with cakes sent by fans.
But it was later, when he signed with Sony as a solo artist, that he became a true international star. The name Chayanne, which sounds like a stage moniker, is actually his given name (his mother was a fan of 1950s TV show Cheyenne), although it’s not on his birth certificate.
“As a kid, they called me ‘Chancito,’” Chayanne says. “People who really loved me — my mom, my grandma — called me Chancito. You know, the diminutive we use when we’re little. Fortunately, the ‘ito’ eventually dropped out and it became just Chayanne.”
Today, more than 40 years later, Chayanne has accumulated a catalog of hits that includes more than 49 entries and 29 top 10s on Billboard’s Hot Latin Songs chart, a record surpassed only by Enrique Iglesias and Luis Miguel among male artists.
In 2023, Chayanne released Bailemos Otra Vez, his first studio album in nine years (on Sony, his longtime label), which debuted in August in the top 10 of the Top Latin Albums chart, his 15th album to do so — making him only the second artist in history (the other is the late Rocío Dúrcal) to achieve a top 10 on the chart in every decade from the 1980s until now.
Simultaneously, Chayanne’s single “Bailando Bachata” became his seventh No. 1 on the Latin Airplay chart, where he has already placed 35 songs. The track was No. 1 for 15 weeks, marking a resounding return for Chayanne, who hadn’t had a No. 1 on that chart in 16 years.
And yet, Chayanne hadn’t gone anywhere. During the heyday of reggaetón in the early 2000s, his pop sound — a mix of heartfelt ballads and uptempo dance fare — endured, and his tours continued to be enormous and constant. The last one, in 2019, grossed $28.3 million and sold 311,000 tickets across 49 shows, according to Billboard Boxscore, becoming the second most successful Latin tour of that year, after Luis Miguel.
Chayanne photographed on July 18, 2024 at Blue Dolphin Studios in Miami.
Mary Beth Koeth
Plenty of legacy Latin artists tour regularly and sell massive amounts of tickets: Marc Anthony, Ricardo Arjona, Alejandro Fernández and Ana Gabriel, to name just a few. But Chayanne’s fan base, made up largely of women ages 50 and older, is particularly loyal, at least in part, Cárdenas says, because Chayanne’s career has been devoid of scandals. “We Latinos tend to support those idols of ours that have been ‘clean.’ There’s no dirt on Chayanne.”
It also partly explains why Chayanne’s music endures. Beyond their catchiness as hit pop songs, “Tiempo de Vals” and “Yo Te Amo,” for example, are still favorites at quinceañeras and weddings, respectively, passed down from mother to daughter, with multiple generations going together to Chayanne’s shows.
When the COVID-19 pandemic hit in early 2020, Chayanne was forced to cancel his Desde El Alma tour after 113 shows, with all of South America still left to play. There was a silver lining: With a clear schedule, he finally had time to think about an album.
“Chayanne is an artist who focuses on one project at a time, and if he’s in tour mode, everything is dedicated to the tour,” says Patty Vega, his manager of 30 years. And although he hadn’t released new music prior to the trek, “it didn’t mean he wasn’t listening to material or wasn’t doing his homework. Everything was being finessed.”
“When you release an album, you’re always thinking about what’s going into the tour, because touring is part of my life,” Chayanne says. “Performing live for fans is what I’ve enjoyed most in my career. In other words, the tour was planned; we just didn’t know when it was going to happen. A tour demands dedication. You know you’ll need months of rehearsal, exercise, new eating habits. It’s a responsibility.”
The Bailemos Otra Vez tour, like all Chayanne treks, was conceived as an invitation to take a tour of his career. However, because it will promote his new album and follows five years away from the road, as well as a pandemic, the name took on new meaning.
The process began more than a year ago, when Chayanne sequestered himself to review his setlists from over the years, including the order of songs, arrangements, mood boards and stage production for each.
“Chayanne has an extremely extensive catalog. Getting things out of the setlist isn’t easy,” says Cheche Alara, the renowned music producer (Annie Lennox, Camila Cabello, Natalia Lafourcade) who has served as musical director for Chayanne on four of his tours over the past 10 years. He began working on the Bailemos Otra Vez tour months ago, adding five songs from the album to Chayanne’s classic repertoire.
Chayanne photographed on July 18, 2024 at Blue Dolphin Studios in Miami.
Mary Beth Koeth
From a musical point of view, Alara says that this time around “our vision is different. It’s very rare that we do something the same from tour to tour.” Asked to sum up the tour’s concept in a single word, he replies: “Gratitude.”
Chayanne “wants to thank his fans who have been with him for a long time,” Alara says. “He is not only an extraordinary artist but a very beloved artist, and the more you work with him, the more you realize that it’s not a facade.”
And he’s beloved for far more than his artistry. When I ask if at any point in his career, especially after he scored his first big hits, someone sat him down and explained what success entailed and how to behave in the face of it, he looks at me with surprise.
“That’s what I call values, principles,” he says. “That comes from before, from when I was a kid. It’s everything that I try to transmit and have tried to transmit at home with my children. In my career, I always felt support from my parents. From my dad, a home, food, respect. And from my mom, the romantic part: music, parties, the ‘Come, let’s dance.’ It’s been a beautiful balance. But it all came from my childhood.”
From the beginning of his career, for example, Chayanne made it his mission to go to every Latin country in which his music was released and promoted, visiting every major city and each essential music person in it. “It was going to Venezuela and saying hello, to Argentina, to Puerto Rico, Mexico. It meant shaking hands with every label employee, every radio station owner, every promoter.”
That philosophy extends to his daily life today. Although Chayanne keeps his personal life just that, he embraces his role as a public figure with gusto.
Beyond being accessible to fans when he’s out and about, since the pandemic, Chayanne has become an avid social media devotee. A few weeks ago, he even posted a shirtless photo of himself in his bathing trunks on Instagram that generated commotion among his 10 million followers, with nearly a half-million likes and thousands of comments.
“I have a problem, Chayanne used to be my dad. Now, I want him to be the father of my children,” wrote one fan. “Patrimony of humanity!” wrote another. “What a beautifully-done piece.” “The most beautiful man in all Latin America!” The list goes on and on.
“Oh, my God. Let me cover myself!” he says with a laugh. “OK, yes, I read some of the comments,” he admits. “Some were very cute, very lovely. Like, ‘If you’re going to take off your shirt, why stop there?’ I mean, really,” he says, blushing a bit.
How about his daughter, Isadora, I ask. What did she think of posting that photo?
“She took it!” he says, laughing.
Chayanne photographed on July 18, 2024 at Blue Dolphin Studios in Miami.
Mary Beth Koeth
Chayanne keeps those fans in mind when planning a tour. “Chayanne thinks about the audience and the fans first. It’s not about what he wants to do but about what the audience wants,” says Nancy O’Meara, Chayanne’s choreographer and creative director of 27 years.
Choreography in particular is essential to a Chayanne tour. He’s an accomplished dancer and participates in all numbers alongside the eight dancers (four men and four women from all over the world) who O’Meara trains at her Los Angeles studio.
The entire team then moved to Miami to rehearse with Chayanne every day, from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m., here at Blue Dolphin Studios, where he keeps a keen eye on all details of the performance.
“He always rehearses as if he were in front of a live audience,” says O’Meara, who has also worked with John Legend and Charlie Puth. “I don’t know anyone else who has such a level of detail.”
At 56, he can still sing and dance for almost three hours nightly — and on this tour, he’ll do just that for 18 months. His stamina in part comes from the discipline he’s developed since childhood, but at his age, his lifestyle matters as well. An athlete who loves golf and water sports and runs daily (“because I like it — I’m not running away from anything!” he says with a laugh), he has also been doing Pilates for the past three years, “because it stretches my body and strengthens my muscles and that’s what I need.”
He’s quick to joke that he keeps expectations for himself within reason. “What I can’t do, I’m not going to do,” he says, laughing. “But [what] I will say is, it’s a dynamic show.”
Chayanne is not high maintenance on the road. His needs are, for a touring superstar, fairly basic: good transportation (a private plane is standard), a gym (he’ll take weights to his room to work out there) and a good bed, “because after the show what I want is to take a shower and go to sleep.” Perhaps he’ll also indulge in a nice meal: “I like to eat well.”
Before every show, he’ll do a meet-and-greet, take photos with fans and, finally, get a little alone time. But that’s not what he ultimately craves.
“I’m restless, like a lion. I can’t wait to start,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “Look,” he adds, pointing to his leg, which is bouncing excitedly. “I pray and hope that everything goes well, that people enjoy themselves. I pray to my mom, to God.
“And then you go out on that stage and all that love that’s coming at you, you can’t describe it. I literally see my life flash before my eyes, because it has been my life. It is a whole life that I have dedicated to music.”
Chayanne strides into a rehearsal space at Blue Dolphin Studios in Miami, dressed in black from head to toe — tight pants and shirt, crisp blazer, formal leather shoes — and warmly embraces his manager, his assistant, his creative director. He then extends his hand to greet the photographer waiting for a cover shoot. “Nice […]
Last week Ricardo Montaner released Ricardo Montaner 2 (Versión Montaner), a re-recording of his 1988 album that included classics like “Tan Enamorados” and “A Dónde Va el Amor.” The new set comes less than a month after Ricardo Montaner (Versión Montaner), and is part of a broader project in which the acclaimed Latin pop singer-songwriter aims to give his old music a more contemporary sound.
“I think it has a lot to do with responsibility,” Montaner tells Billboard Español about this initial six-album project, all under his own independent label Hecho a Mano. “The sound of my music from that era does not match the technical advances available today. […] I want fans from that time to enjoy my music today and to do so under exactly the same conditions as the music people make today.”
But that is not the only motivation for the Argentine-Venezuelan musician. A contract he signed at the beginning of his career with Love Records, part of then-Venezuelan record company Sono-Rodven, did not include rights to his masters, which he says are now in the hands of Universal Music Group. (In 1995, Sono-Rodven transferred its operations to PolyGram, which was later acquired by the multinational).
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“I need my artistic legacy to pass into the hands of my children,” Montaner explains. “I never earned a penny in royalties from any of my first six albums. To this day, with more than 40 years of career, I have not received a single penny from the sales of ‘Yo Que Te Amé,’ ‘Tan Enamorados,’ ‘La Cima del Cielo,’ the album Los Hijos del Sol, the album En El Último Lugar del Mundo.“
“The contracts at that time were predatory and totally disadvantageous for the artist, so that is a very, very strong motivation. If I didn’t earn a single penny for my music at the beginning of my career and at the time when I was most successful, today I am looking to record independently so that my children will have, at least from now on, the peace of mind that the music of their father — especially the most important, the most emblematic or iconic music of his career — will pass into their hands,” he continues. “I am also complaining to the people who have the original masters, the first masters of my career, considering they have been recorded already 40 years ago. I am asking that they return them to me.”
Neither Montaner nor his team has specified whether there is a formal complaint or lawsuit, “beyond the fact that Ricardo is trying to get his masters back,” a person from his team told Billboard Español. Universal Music Latin had not replied a request for comment sent on Monday (July 22) by the time of publication.
Montaner’s re-recording of his albums — something reminiscent of Taylor Swift‘s successful “Taylor’s Version” series — is a meticulous project with “exactly the same” musical arrangements as the originals, and the art cover from the era reproduced with great detail (from set design and wardrobe to the pose of the singer) in a fun and exciting nostalgia trip.
Montaner’s voice remains practically entirely intact. The only change, besides the better sound quality, is in the freedom that comes with age and maturity.
“I recognize that today I sing ‘Me Va a Extrañar,’ ‘Tan Enamorados’, ‘La Cima del Cielo’ or ‘Yo Que Te Amé’ differently than I sang them at that time,” he admits. “But today, sitting from another angle of my life, seeing that I have nothing else to prove in the sense that these songs do not have a risk as they did at that time […] it gives me a lot more freedom to sing them.”
The next releases from the project will arrive Sept. 6 with the album Un Toque de Misterio (Versión Montaner) and the single “La Cima del Cielo (Montaner Version),” followed by En El Último Lugar del Mundo (Versión Montaner), with “Será (Versión Montaner)” as the focus single, on Nov. 1. The re-recordings of Los Hijos del Sol and Una Mañana Y Un Camino would arrive by early 2025.
After these, three more versions of later albums in Montaner’s career will come, this time only for pure pleasure: “I felt like repeating the albums Con La London Metropolitan Orchestra, which were two unforgettable projects for me,” he says excitedly, without revealing what the third one would be. “We already have Abbey Road studios booked for the beginning of November of this year to record the three versions in a single session.”
Retired from the stage at least for a while, Montaner is now enjoying going in and out of the studio while making the most of his time with his family, which includes his wife Marlene, his children Alejandro, Héctor, Mau y Ricky, and Evaluna (all musicians), as well as six grandchildren who will soon become seven with the imminent arrival of Evaluna and Camilo‘s second baby.
“I want to have time to live this,” Montaner says from Medellín, Colombia, where his wife was releasing a new book, El Libro del Corazón. He also traveled recently to Spain and to Argentina to watch his children perform. For many years, he “missed many things of Marlene and my loved ones, because I was doing my own thing, so […] I don’t want it to be once in a while and because time allowed it. Today I want to own my time and be everywhere with them.”
Ramón Ayala is one of the most iconic figures of Norteño music. He rose to fame in the ’60s as part of the duo Los Relámpagos del Norte, alongside Cornelio Reyna, and for more than half a century he has maintained a successful career with his band Ramón Ayala y sus Bravos del Norte.
So when he announced in February his El Principio De Un Final Tour, many were surprised by that title (Spanish for “The Beginning of an End”). At Coachella, Peso Pluma included him in a tribute to greats of Mexican culture on the screen at the back of the stage, while he performed his hit “Lady Gaga”.
But is Ramón Ayala retiring or not?
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“Of course not,” says the “King of the Accordion” to Billboard Español. “I am now in perfect condition. If I don’t play and tour, I don’t feel happy and fulfilled. I have been a musician all my life.”
Ayala’s history with music began when he was just five years old and he accompanied his father playing the accordion to bring money home in his native Monterrey, Nuevo León, cradle of one of the three strands on which regional Mexican music is based: norteño, mariachi and banda sinaloense.
Throughout his long-lasting career, he has recorded over 100 albums, two of which reached No. 1 on the Billboard Regional Mexican Albums chart: Arriba El Norte (1991) and Antología De Un Rey (2004). He’s also placed 12 songs on Hot Latin Songs, including “Del Otro Lado del Portón”, at No. 12, and “Quémame los Ojos”, at No. 19. And he’s received two Grammy Awards and two Latin Grammys, among other accolades.
On March 9, he began his 50-concert tour in Los Angeles, which includes stops in Atlanta, El Paso, Chicago, Las Vegas, and other U.S. cities. He will soon announce dates in Mexico, in cities like Hermosillo, Tijuana, Ensenada, Culiacán, Mexico City and Monterrey, “where they will pay me a tribute in the Macroplaza,” he says of the latter.
Also in March, he released the corrido “El Retén,” the first single from an upcoming 15-track album.
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In an interview with Billboard Español, Ayala answers 20 questions about his life and career, his last moments with Cornelio Reyna and how much he still has left to do.
1. How do you manage to still get up with such great enthusiasm 61 years after starting your career?
Knowing that there’s a large audience that follows us both in Mexico and in the United States, that fills our concerts and is awaiting our new music, motivates me.
2. When you started in music, did you dream of getting to where you are now?
I have been a musician since I was five years old. At that age, I already played the accordion and worked with my dad in a band in Monterrey — I dreamed of continuing doing what I did and nothing else.
3. Do you remember the first professional recording you made?
Yes, it was in 1963, a song called “Ya No Llores,” and it was such a hit that it opened the doors to Ramón Ayala and Cornelio Reyna, my dear compadre. We were Los Relámpagos del Norte. That’s how we would be until 1971.
4. Los Relámpagos del Norte have remained an inspiration. What does it mean to you to have laid the groundwork for so many generations?
Cornelio and I met when we were 14, so we were like brothers. That made us bond and better transmit our music to the audience.
5. Do you have a special memory or anecdote with Cornelio Reyna?
When we started out, Cornelio was the one who made the contracts. Once, he promised [we would play] three events in one night. We arrived to the first, we did not make it to the second, and we arrived to the third one when people were already leaving. People recognized us and threw stones at our trucks. At that moment we decided that someone should represent us, and a friend offered to do it, Servando Cano.
6. Servando Cano, who would become one of the most important representatives of regional Mexican music…
That’s right. He worked as a cashier at the National Bank of Mexico in Reynosa, Tamaulipas. He offered to be our manager and we accepted. We went to Mexico to sign the contract so that everything was well done and legally.
7. With so many hits, is there a song that’s particularly meaningful to you?
There is one that I have a special affection for, “Mi Golondrina,” because it was one of the first that I recorded. But “Rinconcito en el Cielo” is very important in my career.
8. Why did Cornelio Reyna and Ramón Ayala separate? Was there any problem between you?
There was no problem, we always got along well. What happened is that he wanted to try his luck in Mexico singing mariachi and acting in movies.
9. Did you get a chance to reunite with Reyna before his passing in 1997?
In 1995, he returned to the U.S. and asked me to do a tour as Los Relámpagos del Norte. What I proposed was to go on stage first with Los Bravos del Norte, and halfway through the show, both of us [would come out] as Los Relámpagos. We were able to do two tours like that, but he was already very sick. He returned to Mexico and died there.
10. You went through some difficult moments in your career, didn’t you?
Yes, there have been some difficult moments, but fortunately there have been more good times and successes.
11. The name of the tour “El Principio De Un Final” caused a stir. Is this a farewell for Ramón Ayala?
We just named the 2024 tour that way; we don’t know when the end will be. I feel very good, so unless God has planned something else, we will continue.
12. Have you thought about retiring to be a full-time grandpa?
No, not at all. I do spend a lot of time with my children and grandchildren, though. For example, before starting this tour, I was teaching the kids how to bottle feed the newborn goats on my ranch. But being a grandpa is only for moments.
13. During the COVID pandemic, your brother José Luis, the drummer of the band, died. That double loss must have been hard for you.
It was something very hard for me. It was the beginning of the pandemic, there were no vaccines and my little brother left. After that, I spoke with his son, José Luis Ayala Jr., who is a very good musician and is already very well integrated with us.
14. Do the other members of the band contribute ideas?
No, no. I tell them how I want things to be done and heard. We have worked very well this way; the proof is the response from the fans after so many years.
15. How is Ramón Ayala’s life in the U.S.?
I have been living in the Texas Valley for over 60 years. From Brownsville to Laredo, most of the population is Mexican, so we live and eat our carne asada as in our homeland, in addition to speaking a lot of Spanish.
16. How will you be celebrating Cinco de Mayo?
Working, fortunately. We will perform at the County Fair in Pomona, California. It is a very important event with more than 100 years of tradition.
17. Do you have any collaborative album planned?
Yes, we are going to record several of our hits with other artists. I already participated in an album celebrating Leo Dan’s career and I once did a duet with Lupillo Rivera accompanied by a sinaloense band. I also want to give you a heads up that another album is coming with Los Rieleros del Norte that is already recorded.
18. As an icon of Norteño music, what’s your opinion of the new generation of artists who are following this path?
I really like seeing how some of them have a lot of respect for Norteño music and the accordion — they play it excellently, like Edén Muñoz or Alfredo Olivas.
19. Any dream duet that didn’t get to happen?
I always dreamed of doing a duet with Pedro Infante, and I achieved it by participating in a tribute album. He was no longer with us physically, but his voice was.
20. Is there anything in your life and your career that you regret?
I regret nothing. Thanks to God I have reached the point where I am surrounded by fans, friends and family.