corridos
As the California sunset paints the sky bright orange on a scorching August day, a caravan of luxury SUVs makes its way across the dirt roads outside Los Angeles that lead to Pico Rivera Sports Arena. When they arrive, the door of one pristine white Mercedes-Benz G-Class opens and 28-year-old Luis R Conriquez emerges. Clad in black jeans; a white, black and yellow-patterned button-down shirt; black boots; and a suede tejana adorned with feathers, he fits right in with the Instagram-ready aesthetic of the largely millennial crowd gathered here. The heavy silver chain resting on his chest is the only obvious signifier that Conriquez isn’t just another attendee of the inaugural Belicolandia: The singer-songwriter is one of today’s biggest corridos bélicos stars, and the thousands assembled here will soon see him close out the festival-like event produced by his label, Kartel Music.
As Conriquez makes his way to his trailer just behind the stage, an intimidating security detail follows — but the musician himself offers friendly smiles to everyone he encounters. Once settled inside the trailer, where he’ll spend the next hour or so, Conriquez really lets down his guard, cracking jokes with good friend Tony Aguirre about how early his fellow corridos singer (another Kartel signee) had performed that day. “That’s how we get along; it’s all jokes,” Conriquez says. “We like to have a good time.” The trailer becomes a revolving door as emerging and established regional Mexican artists alike pop in and out to say hello and snap a quick photo with, as Conriquez’s fans anointed him early in his career, the King of Corridos Bélicos. The moniker isn’t an overstatement: Since debuting in 2019, Conriquez has pioneered the Mexican subgenre that has gone global in the past couple of years thanks to him and peers like Peso Pluma.
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It’s been two years since Conriquez last performed at Pico Rivera, the ranch-like, 6,000-capacity multipurpose venue just 15 miles west of L.A. that has catered for decades to música mexicana fans. But even in that short time, much has changed for the Sonora, Mexico-born artist — who catapulted to stardom with his breakthrough hit, “El Buho” — as regional Mexican music has become the largest Latin subgenre in the United States, according to Luminate. Conriquez, who the then-new Kartel signed in 2019 at an audition in Mexicali, Baja California, is known for his corridos bélicos — a term he says he coined himself to describe the subgenre’s sound (not its lyrics, which often name-check Mexican drug kingpins or cartel figures, but are “less violent” than other corridos, Conriquez points out). “ ‘Bélico’ means that something has a lot of presence, and this music stands out thanks to instruments like the tololoche and charchetas,” he explains. “Now, it’s joined forces with corridos tumbados [which fuse the bélicos sound with trap and hip-hop], and that has made this movement even stronger.”
Conriquez, whose raw vocals and in-your-face delivery often sound closer to rapping than singing, has become a go-to collaborator for both regional Mexican acts and other Latin artists, including Nicky Jam, Ryan Castro and Peso Pluma, while dominating the Billboard charts. With 1.42 billion on-demand official streams in the United States, according to Luminate, he has 20 tracks on the Hot Latin Songs chart, and most recently scored his first Hot 100 entry with “Si No Quieres No,” a collaboration with up-and-comer Neton Vega. His Corridos Bélicos, Vol. IV, released in January, earned him his first entry and top 10 on any albums chart, debuting at No. 5 on Top Latin Albums and No. 3 on Regional Mexican Albums. It also became Conriquez’s Billboard 200 entrée with a No. 36 debut.
“That album is like The Last Supper,” he says, beaming with pride. Hyperbolic, but only a little: The set is packed with Mexican music heavy-hitters, bringing together two generations of corridos singers, from Gerardo Ortiz to Tito Double P (Peso Pluma’s cousin and go-to songwriter). “Everyone on that album is my friend,” Conriquez says confidently. “I had been planning this for a year because I wanted to bring artists from the past and current ones. Most of them I invited personally, others called me and asked to be a part of it. If I see you have talent and are a good person, I’ll give you a hand. I do it from my heart. It’s how I’ve always been.”
Martha Galvan
His journey to música mexicana’s top tier didn’t happen overnight. When Conriquez decided in his early 20s that he wanted to be a singer, he had no clue how to make that happen, since he didn’t come from a family of musicians or have a formal music education. But he let nothing stand in his way — not even the naysayers who told him he had no future in music. “I became my biggest fan,” he says. “I come from a family that knows how to have a good time. My mom and dad were always playing music. I grew up listening to corridos and reggaetón. I remember I’d put on my headphones when I was going to sleep and when I woke up, music was still playing in my ears,” he adds with a big smile.
Conriquez began writing corridos around 2017, given the subgenre’s popularity in Sonora, and offered one of his early compositions to a neighborhood camarada (friend) to sing. “Then I was like, ‘Wait, let me try singing it,’ ” he recalls. “I got excited about myself; I knew there was something there, so I kept writing.”
He recorded his first corridos with his guitarist friend Daniel “El Bocho” Ruiz (now a key member of Conriquez’s band), but he wasn’t sure where to go from there — until he came across the YouTube channel of a teen who uploaded videos by other artists. “I contacted him and he uploaded my music, and then people started asking who was singing,” Conriquez says. “It was working.”
Soon after, he started getting DMs on Instagram from an unlikely group of fans. “Some construction workers in the United States wrote me asking if I would write corridos for them,” he says. An unusual request, maybe, but not one Conriquez questioned; after all, it was a source of income. “I asked them to send me a short summary describing themselves so I could get inspired,” he continues. “I’d write, record and send it to them.” Initially, he charged $150 per corrido, but as demand grew, he tripled his fee. “I was my own manager at the time, my own distributor, collecting my own money,” he explains. “I did everything on my own for almost two years. Until I met Freddy and Leo from Kartel Music.”
Alfredo “Freddy” Becerra and Leonardo Soto have known each other since childhood. Both grew up in a trailer park in Santa Maria, an agricultural hub in California’s Central Coast region, and their parents worked picking strawberries. “We became friends because we both had the same mission,” Soto says. “It was the mentality of ‘What are we going to do for our families?’ ”
A few years before they launched Kartel Music, Becerra and Soto started Los Compas, a labor contracting company for agriculture work. But the budding entrepreneurs were looking to venture into other businesses, and they had always shared a love of music. They wanted to be part of the industry, despite not even knowing how it worked. “We weren’t looking to start a label,” Becerra says. “We wanted to be promoters because we felt that the labor contracting company gave us enough experience to try that out first.” But their first event, in 2019, was a total flop, he confesses. They had hired a few local bands for a show in Tijuana, and Becerra explains how they had a stage, tables, chairs, cold beer — almost everything. “The fans were missing,” he says. “No one showed up. We went back home feeling sad, and we said we’d never try this again unless we could handle every single detail, including having artists of our own.”
Luis R Conriquez photographed August 12, 2024 in Riverside, Calif.
Martha Galvan
So, afterward, Becerra and Soto asked the bands they knew to spread the word: They were holding auditions in Mexicali to find the first act for their just-founded label, Kartel Music — rather unconventional but fitting for their atypical approach to the industry. About 12 groups and soloists showed up — including Conriquez, who was then working at a Sonora gas station while writing and singing corridos on the side and had heard about the audition from a friend. “He was so confident onstage,” Soto remembers. He was also the only auditionee who performed originals — his bélico-flavored corridos. “Once he finished performing, we told him he had done a good job and that was pretty much it,” Soto adds. There wasn’t a formal pitch, he says, but both parties wanted to work with each other. Instead of signing a contract, they made a verbal pact to grow together.
Conriquez knew he’d stood out from the crowd. “Freddy and Leo were just starting but so was I,” he says. “It was all about trusting each other. They needed someone to help them grow and I knew I could help them. I would take care of the music; I understood how the business worked because I had been doing this for some time now. I just needed someone to support me.” His first ask of the duo: to buy him new clothes so he could record official videos.
“We took him a bunch of clothes that we bought at Ross [Dress for Less],” Soto says with a chuckle. “You’d be surprised how much we’ve evolved with him. We would go to Ross and Marshalls and show up with a stack of clothes and he’d get so excited because he didn’t have anything. He appreciated it.” Just a few weeks after the audition, they convened in Puerto Peñasco, Mexico, to shoot their first music video — and Becerra and Soto also brought a contract for Conriquez to sign. “But he didn’t even want to see it,” Soto says. “He just said, ‘I’m with you guys.’ ” (Conriquez eventually signed a contract and then some: Today, he’s also co-CEO of Kartel alongside Becerra and Soto; the label now has six other artists on its roster.)
Though Los Compas had no direct connection to the music business, it had been an essential precursor to Kartel. “The story really starts with Los Compas because that provided the money for us to do all of this,” Becerra says, explaining how he and Soto were able to buy Conriquez new instruments and rent studios for him to record in. “Without that first business we wouldn’t have been able to do this. [The money] we made in the labor contracting business would go toward Luis. We didn’t even enjoy ourselves — we put it all toward Kartel.”
During the pandemic, Conriquez and Kartel doubled down on releasing new songs, knowing people were stuck at home and listening to music. “The strategy we implemented of releasing new music constantly, like every week, is what helped him grow in numbers,” Soto says. “The consistency plays a big part. Luis has released a song every Friday since we began working together. For his birthday month, we took a song out every single day. It seems crazy but it’s worked for us.”
Martha Galvan
In 2019, the same year Kartel officially launched, Raymond Tapia, vp of A&R, Latin at Downtown Artist and Label Services, called Soto and Becerra. “I remember hearing [Conriquez’s] song ‘El Buho’ and I was like, ‘Who is this?’ I looked at the song credits and it was Kartel Music. I had never heard of them,” Tapia says. “They had a phone number on their Instagram page so I just cold-called them, and Leo picked up and I told him that I was interested in distributing their music worldwide. That led to a very long work relationship.”
While Downtown doesn’t exclusively distribute Conriquez’s music — Kartel prefers to work with multiple distributors so it can build relationships — the company did distribute Conriquez’s Corridos Bélicos, Vol. IV, his biggest album to date.
“Luis is in a unique space because he came just before the big boom,” Tapia says. “He’s in between two spaces, where he’s not part of the new wave and caters to an older crowd but also brings in the young listeners because of all the collabs he’s done with Eslabon Armado, Junior H and Peso Pluma.”
“I think we both share the thought that collaborating together helps take our music and Mexican culture even further,” Peso says of Conriquez. “[Him] setting that standard from the beginning helped raise our flag to where it is now and will continue to help us grow even more.”
After a streaming boost from “El Buho” and his second big hit, “Me Metí en el Ruedo,” Conriquez began performing small shows in Tijuana, Mexicali and other Mexican cities. Today, he’s selling out back-to-back dates at venues like Guadalajara’s Auditorio Telmex, which holds more than 11,000 people. His touring career stateside and abroad has also taken off. Later this year, he’ll perform at venues including Chicago’s 18,000-capacity Allstate Arena, and he’s set to take his Trakas World Tour to Colombia in November.
One day, he hopes to perform in Spain and Canada. “I don’t see this as a challenge anymore — it’s more like a goal,” he says, nodding to Mexican music’s new global appeal. While changing trends, emerging subgenres and a new generation of hit-makers have rocked música mexicana these past few years, Conriquez is confident he’ll maintain his relevancy. “You have to innovate and, at the same time, not lose your essence, but you do have to jump on the train. It’s why I’m still here.” A corridos singer through and through, last year he dabbled in reggaetón and dembow, proving his versatility. “If I knew how to speak English, I’d be singing in English too,” he jokes but then quickly adds in a more serious tone, “I wanted to record in those styles because I’m a fan. It’s something that feels natural because I grew up listening to that, too. It’s always about adapting because you just never know in music — one day you’re here and the next day you’re not.”
The video for Conriquez and Peso Pluma’s 2022 collaboration “Siempre Pendientes” has more than 40 million YouTube views. In it, the two carry semiautomatic rifles as they tell the story of a soldier who works for Joaquin “El Chapo” Guzmán, founder of the Sinaloa drug cartel. But shortly after its release, the video’s future on YouTube — along with Kartel Music’s entire channel — hung in the balance. As “Siempre Pendientes” began gaining momentum, the clip and Kartel’s channel disappeared from the platform.
“Everything about corridos was stricter then — it was more censored [on digital service providers],” Conriquez says, still visibly shaken by the incident. “And it also happened at a time [when] I was really growing. It’s something that really lowers your morale; it’s like you have everything, but then they try to slow you down. It was frustrating.” (YouTube did not respond to a request for comment by publication time.)
After a few emails to YouTube, Kartel Music was able to get the video and its channel back on the platform. But Conriquez isn’t the first artist — and probably won’t be the last — to face censorship for singing these kinds of songs. Long considered controversial, corridos have been banned from public performance in some Mexican states as cartel violence in the country continues to spiral.
“This censorship has followed regional Mexican music for many years but in reality, it reflects what happens every day in our environment,” says Rafael Valle, programming director of Guadalajara radio station La Ke Buena. “If the song says some word that is not allowed on the radio, obviously we modify the song, but we don’t censor it because that would mean not playing songs that people are constantly requesting. It’s important to note that we’ve also modified Bad Bunny songs because of explicit lyrics. So, it’s not exclusive to regional, but it’s the genre that has been mainly impacted by this stigma.”
Luis R Conriquez photographed August 12, 2024 in Riverside, Calif.
Martha Galvan
At his Pico Rivera show, Conriquez’s provocative corridos bélicos are what really get the crowd going — although his dembow and reggaetón tracks also had his fans perreando (twerking). “My show is like a roller coaster of emotions,” he says. “First you start with corridos and you get all riled up, then a romantic one that makes you fall in love, then a heartbreak one to make you remember your ex and then a dembow to get you dancing. I give the people what they want.”
He plans to keep doing just that — while also inspiring a new generation of regional Mexican singers and songwriters. “I tell the artists we’ve signed to Kartel to not be lazy, to release music constantly and to collaborate because it’ll give value to what they’re doing. I tell them because I care and I want them to grow,” Conriquez says. “The truth is that life has been very good to me. Everything I have wanted I have had through hard work, and I can’t slow down now.”
Billboard Latin Music Week is returning to Miami Beach on Oct. 14-18, with confirmed superstars including Gloria Estefan, Alejandro Sanz and Peso Pluma, among many others. For tickets and more details, visit Billboardlatinmusicweek.com.
In early 2018, the future looked bright for corridos singer-songwriter Codiciado. Grupo Codiciado, the band he’d co-founded three years prior, was rapidly rising: After breaking onto Billboard’s Hot Latin Songs chart in 2017 with “Gente de Accionar,” the act reached No. 8 on the Regional Mexican Albums chart with Miro Lo Que Otros No Miran (I See What Others Don’t). And with its success, the group was helping define the urban style of Rancho Humilde, the Los Angeles-based label known for its modern take on música mexicana.
Then, on a cannabis possession charge, Codiciado’s visa was revoked at the U.S.-Mexico border that April. He’d migrated to the States in 2016, working in Southern California’s agricultural fields to support himself as he tried to get his music career off the ground. Now, the physical walls along the border of his native Tijuana — and the legal restrictions preventing his reentry — stood in his way.
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It was a devastating turn of events. “I really wanted to stop. I didn’t want to make music,” the 31-year-old artist (born Erick de Jesús Aragón Alcantar) admits today. “I had a hard time when I left. I had no work; I was making my whole career in the United States. I thought that something divine wanted me to leave, like someone didn’t want me here. Then I put on my pants and said: ‘Well, if I’m here [in Mexico], I have to give it my all.’ At the end of the day, I was very hopeful [about] getting my visa back.”
Instead of letting the visa revocation end his career, Codiciado built a new one. Driven by a reborn creative conviction and fans’ support, he split from Grupo Codiciado and went solo. “The people gave me encouragement to say that it wasn’t over, that it was just a stumbling block,” he says. “I had to keep going.”
Growing up in Tijuana’s Villa del Real III neighborhood — an impoverished place, but one rich in Mexican music — Codiciado absorbed the culture of his surroundings. Influenced by icons like Los Tucanes de Tijuana and Explosión Norteña, he began writing songs as a teenager and channeled his environment’s chaos into his music.
Codiciado’s first songs were inspired by the infamous drug kingpins of Sinaloa and written in part out of financial necessity. Drug lords often pay songwriters to have corridos written about them, and though Codiciado notes that he “didn’t know about cartels in those days, just what I heard on the street,” getting the work marked a career turning point for him. As he honed his musicianship, he teamed with longtime friend and drummer Giovanni Rodríguez to form Grupo Codiciado in 2015, recruiting four more members in Tijuana.
The group organized and recorded a concert by the end of the year, drawing millions of views on YouTube; one of those videos amassed 233 million views alone. Its frequent new releases helped it cultivate a loyal fan base, and soon the band was headlining festivals throughout Tijuana. The following year, Rancho Humilde signed the act and it came to the U.S.
“Erick was the first artist who brought this new style to Mexican music eight years ago with Grupo Codiciado,” says Fabio Acosta, who is part of Codiciado’s four-person management team. “They were pioneers in changing the genre’s style, shifting from very decorated suits with fine stones to incorporating streetwear.”
Codiciado’s sense of style, now common among modern corridos acts like Natanael Cano and Fuerza Regida, was ahead of its time. “I had disagreements with older colleagues,” he recalls. “Many took it as an offense, saying, ‘No, man, we’re the same, and you’re wearing do-rags, caps and sneakers, while we’re here with cowboy hats and boots.’ ”
“He was at the forefront of this new wave of corridos,” says Chris Den Uijl, another member of Codiciado’s management team. “He was one of the first to show up in Air Force 1s and have a more progressive style.”
Codiciado performing at Toyota Arena on May 3, 2024 in Ontario, Calif.
Lalo Gonzalez
Since late last year, Den Uijl has overseen Codiciado’s touring strategy alongside Aaron Ampudia, with whom he co-founded festivals including Baja Beach Fest and Sueños. In fact, Ampudia, who has roots on both sides of the border, was the first of the current management team to connect with Codiciado, through a mutual friend. Ángel del Villar, founder of corridos label DEL Records, rounds out the team. “[My managers] are helping me to give structure to my work, to my company, to my band, to my music,” Codiciado says. (He releases music independently and has a distribution deal with Warner.)
As Codiciado’s career blossomed and he debuted on the Billboard charts, his life took a sudden turn. In 2018, while crossing into the United States from Mexico, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement accused him of residing stateside on a nonresidential visa and sought to revoke it. “I kept saying I had a work visa and traveled back and forth frequently,” he says. “Then, upon checking my bag, they found less than a gram of marijuana that I don’t know how the hell got there. I was detained for 12 hours without [access to] a lawyer. They had me sign for voluntary deportation, renouncing my visa and rights. A lawyer would have told me not to sign and to go to court.”
Back in Mexico, Codiciado felt “frustrated and alone” as he watched música mexicana move on without him. Rancho Humilde founder and CEO Jimmy Humilde “started signing new acts like Fuerza Regida,” Codiciado says from his home in Riverside, Calif. “One year went by, two years went by, three years went by, and nothing happened [with getting my visa back].”
Finally Codiciado decided, he says, “to get my act together” — including formally separating from Grupo Codiciado, which disbanded in 2021 and released its last single as a band, “Maquinando,” in February 2022. He doubled down on his solo songwriting and in 2023 put out his first solo album, Golpes de la Vida (Blows of Life), distributed by Virgin Music U.S. Latin; he wrote and produced 17 of the set’s 20 songs himself.
The album kept the essence of his sound intact, while recent singles like 2024’s “Gabachas” have embraced the rising trend of electrocorridos — electronic music with corridos instrumentation woven and sampled throughout. As he’s chronicled the monumental shifts in his life amid his visa struggle (including becoming a father for the second time; he has a 10-year-old daughter and a 4-year-old son), his lyric writing has deepened as well. “The biggest lesson was that I had to keep pushing and not wait around. If I had waited, I wouldn’t have grown. Despite leaving the group, I can say I made it. I returned a different person.”
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With legal assistance and the proper paperwork, Codiciado returned to Southern California with a new visa (he declines to specify what type) in 2023. Earlier this year, he completed the aptly named — and very successful — five-date Ando Enfocado (I’m Focused) tour; Live Nation is producing a second, eight-date run that will take Codiciado from coast to coast in September and October.
“He’s touching the young corridos kids [with] this new generational sound,” Den Uijl says. “He has a large fan base of regional Mexican fans that are showing up in cowboy hats and are going up to him saying things like, ‘You helped me get through my hardest times.’ Grown men crying to him saying, ‘You gave me the strength to stick through it when I lost my job to find the next one.’ Things like that really touched me watching it at his first wave of his shows.”
Meanwhile, Codiciado has returned to the Billboard charts. He made his solo debut in February 2023 with “V.A.M.C. (Vamos Aclarando Muchas Cosas En Vivo),” which peaked at No. 31 on Hot Latin Songs; the track also reached No. 29 on Regional Mexican Airplay. And “Gabachas” debuted at No. 41 on Latin Airplay and hit No. 9 on Latin Pop Airplay.
“I’m an artist with eight years [of experience]. Maybe many have come up faster and achieved what I haven’t yet in less time. But I’m the only one who has done it this way,” Codiciado says. “Maybe I bring two, three, four hits a year, but they are hits that are staying with the people and have a message.”
But now, his ambitions go beyond achieving commercial success. Codiciado’s work with La Fundación UFW, founded by civil rights activist César Chávez, underscores his dedication to the immigrant community at large. “We as a society have to be more noble and empathize more with people who don’t have,” he says. In April, KNAI (La Campesina 101.9) Phoenix, the radio station Chávez founded in 1983, announced a collaboration with Codiciado to deliver hot lunches to local farmworkers. “We should help people if we have the means,” Codiciado says. “God gave [to] us to give back. The more I have, the more I help.”
And as his influence grows, Codiciado wants to effect broader change, too. “I want to change minds. I can’t change everyone, but [artists] do have the influence to make big changes, just like a politician,” he says. “Our audience is very large, and revolutionarily speaking, that’s what I aspire to be.”
This story appears in Billboard‘s Rumbazo special issue, dated Sept. 14, 2024.
Billboard Latin Music Week is returning to Miami Beach on Oct. 14-18, with confirmed superstars including Gloria Estefan, Alejandro Sanz and Peso Pluma, among many others. For tickets and more details, visit Billboardlatinmusicweek.com.
It’s April 20 — the unofficial holiday for lighting up and celebrating cannabis culture — and Billboard Español curated the perfect playlist for the occasion, called Corridos Verdes (or Weed Corridos). Explore See latest videos, charts and news See latest videos, charts and news In the mid-2010s, this new strain of corridos verdes blossomed, painting […]
As the modern-day corridos movement continues to boom across both sides of the U.S.-Mexico border and beyond — while also leaving a significant imprint on the Billboard charts — a blooming scene takes place in Monterrey, Mexico, where a new sub-genre of regional music has been born: “bélico indie.”
Now, Fonovisa Records captures this new and growing alternative wave of corridos bélicos — which combines elements of sierreño and corridos with an urbano flair — in a soon-to-be-released compilation album comprising 15 emerging bands and artists, similarly titled Bélico Indie.
The first two singles of the project kick off on Friday (Oct. 6) with “La Primiza” by Grupo 3 Mandos and “El 10” by Eduardo Carrillo. The latter is also the producer and one of the architects of this initiative, which aims to promote a new generation of artists.
“One of the things we have enjoyed the most about this project is that we have learned more [about the craft] over time. We have been able to get to know different styles of many groups from Monterrey. That helped us a lot in the way to connect with them, to produce better for them, to understand what they were singing about,” said Carrillo in a press release. “As an artist, it has been an honor to have been given this space, this opportunity, to someone who really comes from the ground, and to be given a national platform from the label.”
Another fundamental figure responsible for gathering the talent involved is Jorge Loayzat, A&R manager at Fonovisa DISA/Universal Music Group. “Working on the Bélico Indie project has been one of my greatest satisfactions,” says Loayzat. “This collective is born from the streets, where we find countless musicians who are building their dreams and working hard to find an opportunity that allows them to professionalize their music and make a living from it.”
Week after week, Fonovisa will release new music on all streaming platforms, leading up to its compilation, slated for November 23.
Other featured acts include Sahir Montoya, Ángel Cano, DaniUniverse, Banda La Real de Monterrey, Manuel Alejo, Octavio Cuadras, La Nueva Nación, Clasificación 13, Naresh, W. Corona, Última Evidencia, Grupo Los Del 70 and NXNNI.
“We always dreamed of working with the best, and that’s what we are doing,” says DaniUniverse, who is another rising star from this upcoming release. “Working with Universal is not just any label. It’s going deeper into professionalism, taking that leap we needed to feel it more real, and to believe it more.”
Loayazt adds, “We are always looking for new talents, new voices, or innovating musical concepts that reach the hearts of the people. I feel very happy and satisfied to be promoting [a group of] talented young people.”
Below, watch a video about Fonovisa’s new project:
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A medley of sounds erupts as soon as the doors of the Spotify studio swing open. All at once, trumpets climb up and down scales, guitars are tuned before being fervidly strummed, and a tololoche player’s fingers dance across the strings of an upright bass like tiny bolts of lightning, making it impossible to look away. All the while, the group of men responsible crack jokes in Spanish, an air of excitement swirling through the dimly-lit room before the Spotify RADAR shoot kicks off.
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At the center of this eclectic flurry of instruments lives regional Mexican music. At the center of today’s regional Mexican music, lives Peso Pluma.
For many, the 23-year-old phenom appeared de la nada. “Ella Baila Sola,” Eslabon Armado’s smash hit with Peso Pluma, was as explosive a collaboration in the Spanish-language music space as the Hot 100-topping “Boy’s a Liar Pt. 2” was for the English market. Like drill princess Ice Spice, Peso Pluma became the de facto face of a movement overnight, much to his own surprise.
“I knew this was gonna happen, but I didn’t know at what level and what speed,” he says today. “I knew I was gonna do good in Mexico and the Spanish-speaking countries, but this went worldwide [so fast]. I’m thankful for that.”
For his early fans, Peso Pluma has been creating earworm collaborative anthems for a handful of years, through early hits like “El Belicón” alongside Raúl Vega – which went viral on social media and brought in 10 million views on YouTube in a single month – and projects including his debut set, Ah y Qué?
To date, “Ella Baila Sola” has secured a number of firsts, most notably becoming the first regional Mexican song to reach the top 10 of the Hot 100 chart — peaking at No. 5 – and the first to top Billboard‘s Streaming Songs chart in its 10-year history.
Peso Pluma and Eslabon Armado also broke a number of Spotify records, becoming the all-time most-streamed música mexicana track in one day globally and the most streamed Latin track in the U.S in one single day last month.
“Música mexicana is no longer regional – it’s global,” says Spotify head of U.S. Latin artist partnerships Eddie Santiago, noting the genre’s growth of 431% over the last five years. “It’s been incredible supporting Peso Pluma’s meteoric rise, and look forward to this next phase of his career.”
The Spotify RADAR program – dedicated to spotlighting and supporting emerging artists at all stages of their development – has provided a platform for artists across the globe, including The Kid LAROI, Zach Bryan, Doechii, Quevedo, PinkPatheress, and over 500 others since its start in in 2020.
While the effect of “Ella Baila Sola” has led to unprecedented global attention on the regional Mexican space, it’s important to note that the regional Mexican genre isn’t exactly a genre. Encompassing an array of unmistakably Mexican styles of music, including norteño, corridos, banda, rancheras, mariachi and more, regional Mexican serves as an overarching umbrella term for a set of genres that had never before been afforded nuance on a mainstream level.
Growing up on artists like Ariel Camacho, Peso Pluma, born Hassan Laija, developed his love for música mexicana as a kid spending his early years growing up in Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico. Later, the influence of hip-hop and reggaeton also found their way into the songs he’d write. Today, he painstakingly stitches together 19th century Mexican sounds with modern genres, bringing both to the Spotify stage ahead of his upcoming debut album, and a single that he’s been teasing on social media.
After his performance, Peso Pluma sat down to talk with Billboard about what the Spotify look means to him, his recent wins on U.S. platforms, his Doble P Tour and his hopes for the future.
What does it mean to you to be selected as Spotify’s RADAR artist?
It’s pretty big to me because I’m the first Mexican artist to do this. I’m so proud and very thankful. It’s big for the country, the genre and the industry in general. We’re doing pretty good and we’re going to keep working to share our music.
Have you had fans from countries that surprise you?
I have a lot of fans all over the world, but the most surprising was one time I was shopping and a Chinese family came [up to me]. I never thought they’d listen to corridos in China.
What are the genres that have influenced you?
When I was a teenager, I listened to a lot of hip-hop, rap, and reggaetón. Rap culture just got into me, and I think I’m picking a little bit from every genre in the corridos I do and that’s why people like it, because it has a lot of different cultures in it. Reggaetón is the most iconic genre in my life. Since I was a kid, I liked it a lot. Daddy Yankee, Don Omar, Tego Calderon.
I like Bad Bunny a lot, I listen to him all day, every day. I listen to my friend Natanael Cano, 21 Savage, Shoreline Mafia. Feid, Anuel, Karol G. I listen to everything.
What’s a genre you like that people might be surprised you listen to?
Reggae. I like Bob Marley.
You recently played Coachella, how did that come about?
I got invited by Becky G — shoutout to Becky. She’s been too kind to me in my career, and done a lot for me. And she knows she has a friend [in me]. They got in touch like a week before, I was so excited and pretty shocked. It was so good, [the crowd] accepted us. People did scream a lot, it was a surprise for them.
What is the biggest challenge you’ve faced along your path so far?
The biggest thing I’m dealing with right now is not being with my family. Being on tour non-stop. That’s what people don’t see. They think I’m a working machine, but I’m not. But it’s part of what I like to do — it’s part of my character.
How do you deal with those moments?
When I feel like that, I just talk to my mom and my family and that keeps me motivated. They’re pretty proud of me and thankful.
You also did Jimmy Fallon recently, how was that?
It was awesome for me and my whole group. It was a new thing for us because it was our first time on TV and it was Jimmy Fallon. I think it went well, everyone watched it and wanted to see me perform, and I’m just thankful for Jimmy for inviting me to the show.
You recently broke a record along with Eslabon Armado, becoming the first regional Mexican song to top Billboard’s streaming songs chart.
That’s pretty amazing. But that doesn’t mean anything, because tomorrow I could be gone. We don’t know. I’m just gonna keep working to get where I wanna get. There’s a long way to go.
You’ve had a lot of big collaborative moments — what’s the role of collaborations in your journey?
Collaborations have been so important in my career. I’m just thankful to too many artists who have been supporting my project, ideas and thinking and what we have to do for the genre. My album is coming too and I have a lot of solo songs coming, and that’s what people want to hear, so that’s what I’m giving them on this album.
You’re heading out on tour soon, but so much has changed since your tickets went on sale. Are you looking for bigger venues?
Yes. Everything changed and I’m looking forward to what’s gonna happen. And my team is looking for venues. I’m sure I’m gonna do good if I do small or big venues. The tour sold out the first day, like 95 percent [of tickets] in two hours. We’re pretty excited.
Looking ahead, what’s something you hope to accomplish in your career?
I just wanna go to the Grammys and win something, you know? There’s too many things I wanna accomplish. I want to have my album be welcomed by the people, I want it to have the same streams as singles do. I’m showing another part of la doble p to people.
I know this is far in advance, but as someone who grew up between Texas and Mexico, where do you see yourself settling down when it’s all said and done?
I don’t know. I mean, Peter Parker is from NYC and I’m in L.A. right now. Guadalajara will always be my home. That’s where my family is, and Sinaloa too. But I feel pretty good here in L.A. And if life says, “Go to Miami in a year,” I’ll go to Miami.
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