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On an overcast winter afternoon in McAllen, Texas, all six members of Grupo Frontera are huddled around an oversize white box, staring gleefully at its contents. They peel back the tissue paper wrapping to reveal a present their stylist has gifted them just a few days shy of Christmas — a mound of plush Polo Ralph Lauren bathrobes, one for each member, with a brassy statement stitched onto the back: “B–ch, I got a Grammy!”
The members of the norteño and cumbia band — which won the Latin Grammy for best norteño album in 2024 — are standing inside their palatial Frontera HQ in McAllen, a home that they purchased last year. Built in the mid-2000s, the sprawling estate is a very particular vision of turn-of-the-21st-century luxury (see: the Tuscan kitchen replete with dark wood cabinetry). A minimalist home recording studio, where the band has laid down several tracks, sits just past the outdoor path wending around the pool and hot tub, in a yard expansive enough to park their fleet of tour buses.
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Privacy and practicality alike spurred the band to centralize its operations here. When its star began rising about three years ago, after its cover of Colombian pop-rockers Morat’s “No Se Va” surged to life-altering virality on TikTok, Grupo Frontera would frequently record music in this South Texas enclave of the Rio Grande Valley where its members grew up and still reside — until some locals figured out where the group was recording and started showing up to the studio unannounced. “People would deadass just open the door, walk in and listen to whatever we were recording,” says frontman Adelaido “Payo” Solís in between sips of a briny michelada. “They would just wait for us to finish. Then we came out, we saw people, and we were like, ‘Hi?’ ”
Grupo Frontera will perform at Billboard Presents THE STAGE at SXSW at Moody Ampitheater at Waterloo Park in Austin on March 14. Get your tickets here.
Crucially, the house is decidedly “party-ful,” as Julian Peña Jr., the band’s affable percussionist and hype man, puts it. Grupo Frontera has held a tequila-fueled carne asada (a barbecue hang) or two here, including a baby shower for accordionist Juan Javier Cantú, who recently welcomed a daughter with his wife. The group — which also includes drummer Carlos Guerrero, bassist Brian Ortega and guitarist/bajo quinto player Beto Acosta — hopes to eventually open up the space for visiting collaborators and friends to crash there. But given that the house is still barely furnished, those plans are on hold for the moment. There aren’t many places to sit, save for a few folding chairs and tables here and there; only a handful of the home’s six bedrooms have mattresses in them propped up against walls. Tellingly, the sole piece of art inside is a framed photograph of the band mugging with superstar Bad Bunny — who collaborated with Grupo Frontera on its Billboard Hot 100 smash “un x100to,” peaking at No. 5 on the chart — splattered with globs of bright paint.
Interior decorating was admittedly low on the band’s priority list in 2024 — a year in which Grupo Frontera released its punchy set Jugando a Que No Pasa Nada, which reached the top 10 of the Top Latin Albums chart. An ambitious tour around the United States, Mexico and one date in Spain followed at amphitheaters and arenas, with shows featuring pyrotechnic flourishes and stretching about two hours. Somehow, Grupo Frontera also found time to release Mala Mía, a joint EP with fellow música mexicana stalwarts and collaborators Fuerza Regida, before the year ended. Then in late November, the group won its first-ever Latin Grammy for its 2023 debut album, El Comienzo.
Brian Ortega
Jasmine Archie
In the three brief years it has been together, Grupo Frontera has transformed from a cohort playing covers at quinceañeras into a Mexican American boy band commanding some of the world’s largest stages — where it’s sometimes accompanied by legends its members looked up to while growing up, like Ramón Ayala, and other huge stars it has now recorded with, like Peso Pluma, Maluma and Nicki Nicole. By melding the norteño and cumbia of their childhoods with their micro-generation’s penchant for embracing genre swerves (most of the band members are young millennials, save for Solís, who’s about to turn 22), Grupo Frontera has helped usher in a new era of música mexicana.
“I feel that they’ve created a powerful movement and opened the path for more bands and for the public to reconnect with a genre that had been under the radar several years,” says Edgar Barrera, the Grammy- and Latin Grammy-winning songwriter who has written dozens of songs for the group and has been a mentor to it. Given that seven of the band’s singles and both of its studio albums have reached the top 10 on the Hot Latin Songs and Top Latin Albums charts, respectively, the approach seems to be working.
Grupo Frontera’s success story is all the more astonishing considering the unorthodox decisions its members have made along the way. For one thing, they have no interest in moving from the relatively quiet McAllen (population: roughly 150,000) to a Latin music metropolis like Miami or Los Angeles to be closer to potential opportunities. “We really take it to heart when they say, ‘Keep your feet on the ground,’ ” Guerrero says. “Us being humble is what’s going to take us farther.”
Adelaido “Payo” Solís
Jasmine Archie
Julian Peña Jr.
Jasmine Archie
Instead, they’re bullish about staying close to home in the valley, a region that has made national headlines recently as one of the areas the Trump administration has targeted for U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement raids. The Rio Grande Valley is also home to Intocable, one of the most successful norteño bands ever, and the region has historically produced talented musicians and even a handful of breakthrough stars — Bobby Pulido, Duelo and Freddy Fender among them — in spite of lacking the infrastructure that helps groups take the next big step.
In another unlikely turn, the band has released its music independently; indie label VHR Music put out its debut album, and the band self-released Jugando. But don’t mistake these decisions for ambivalence — the group is wary of staying in the same place, metaphorically speaking. “It’s not OK for you to be too comfortable and feel like what you’re doing right now is going to work out forever,” Solís says. And now Grupo Frontera finds itself at a new crossroads as it strategizes how to reach the next level of stardom — specifically, expanding its audience beyond the United States and Mexico, bringing its heart-tugging cumbias to new ears.
“We want to go someday to Japan,” Cantú says. “Any place we could play that’s different. Brazil is a goal we have … We want to put out our Mexican roots to the whole world.”
Grupo Frontera’s origin story is bound up in TikTok’s inscrutable algorithm. In early 2022, one of its first singles, the ebullient “No Se Va,” became ubiquitous on the platform, debuting at No. 50 on Hot Latin Songs and eventually climbing to the top 10. The guys had just started playing music together during off-hours from their day jobs as car dealership finance managers and ranchers. They cobbled together early videos for a few hundred dollars and learned about the music industry by searching “how to” tutorials on YouTube. When the TikTok spotlight suddenly shone on them, they seized the moment. The act soon started working with Barrera, and in mere months, it had released another hit, then another. “If it wasn’t for TikTok when we released ‘No Se Va,’ it probably would have stayed in our hometown of the valley,” Solís says.
Barrera — who has written and produced for megastars including Shakira and Maluma — has a distinctive sensibility that has no doubt helped Grupo Frontera’s sound evolve over the years. His guidance was a boon in those early days, and he especially helped the act see a bigger picture. “We were thinking about, ‘How do we do the biggest wedding here in the valley?’ And [Barrera] goes, ‘Wedding? How can you do the biggest stadiums in the whole world? That’s how you have to think,’ ” Peña remembers. “And we’re like, ‘All right, let’s think that way.’ And then little by little, when we would release a song, we would do it thinking that this song was going to go viral, this song was going to help us out. And it would work.”
From left: Beto Acosta, Julian Peña Jr., Juan Javier Cantú, Carlos Guerrero, Brian Ortega, and Adelaido “Payo” Solís of Grupo Frontera photographed December 20, 2024 in McAllen, Texas.
Jasmine Archie
It’s been practically three years to the day since Grupo Frontera first went nuclear on TikTok, back when talk of an outright ban wasn’t imminent. Yet some of the band members deleted their personal TikTok accounts recently and haven’t redownloaded the app since it returned online in mid-January following a brief ban. (The band’s professional TikTok is still active.) They don’t exactly miss it, personally. “I feel like I’m a new man,” Cantú says with a smile. These days, Solís has focused the attention he would have spent scrolling through TikTok on Splice, an app for sampling and creating songs. While Solís doesn’t consider himself a gloomy person, he admittedly gravitates toward “melancholy, sad, depressing chords” while writing. “That’s what inspires me, to be honest: those sadder chords.”
While Solís’ voice is his main instrument, he occasionally plays guitar, piano and accordion by ear. He’d like to get better at nailing down exactly what he wants to hear from the instrument he’s playing so those sounds can aid him with songwriting — something he has been doing more of since last year’s Jugando (where he was credited with co-writing the song “Ibiza,” which is about wanting to give a lover anything their heart desires).
Though Barrera has written most of Grupo Frontera’s songs so far, along with other writers like Ríos, the band feared becoming complacent by always yielding those creative duties to someone else. “We were comfortable with the fact that [Barrera] would send us a song and that’s it,” Solís says. “But at a certain point, we felt like we weren’t working for it.” The group started inviting other songwriters into the mix, and Solís began chipping in more after a generative writing camp with Barrera.
The band sees taking calculated sonic risks as pivotal to its next phase. In late January, for instance, Grupo Frontera hopped on a song with Spanish icon Alejandro Sanz, “Hoy no me siento bien,” that marked two milestones: It was the group’s first-ever salsa tune and its farthest-afield collaborator to date. “I’m not too sure if a bajo quinto has ever played salsa before, but Beto was trying his best,” Solís jokes. Unlike the band’s usual fare, the song doesn’t address being in (or out of) love, either. “But I love the message,” Solís says. “It’s like, ‘Today, I don’t feel OK and that’s OK.’ ”
“Yeah, like feeling bad is OK, too,” Cantú interjects. “That’s badass.”
Juan Javier Cantú
Jasmine Archie
Carlos Guerrero
Jasmine Archie
On its recent collaborative EP with Fuerza Regida, Grupo Frontera moved in yet another direction: trying corridos imbued with a Tejano bent, along with its cumbias. While these projects have been well-received commercial successes, the prospect of potentially not hitting the mark, and perhaps even failing, doesn’t seem to deter the act. “That’s what we want to do — to tell the world that Frontera can collaborate with different artists and that we could also make different styles of music,” Cantú says. “That’s our goal, most likely, for this year. Not to get away from cumbia or norteño — that’s our base. But also like, ‘Hey, we could also play and sing this.’ ”
The morning after catching a transatlantic flight from Spain, the members of Grupo Frontera arrive at a local sports club in McAllen with rackets in tow. They’re here to play padel, a sport resembling tennis and squash, that they got hooked on thanks to its low chance of injury. As they arrive one by one, the guys seem in good spirits if a bit bleary-eyed. They begin warming up by bouncing balls against glass walls surrounding the court. Acosta arrives last, strolling in with a sheepish grin. “The tardy one,” the band’s publicist says with an eye roll. “You can put that in the article.”
Since only four players can be on the court at any given time, the men rotate sets. Acosta rolls up one pant leg to get his head in the game, then forcefully serves the yellow ball. It lands with a thwack on the court’s blue turf, and Cantú bursts out singing the keyboard riff from “The Final Countdown.” S–t-talking abounds. Guerrero, who suffered an injury after missing the last step of some stairs, is moving with some hesitation — but after playing a few focused rounds, he and Acosta win the impromptu tournament.
While they might be opponents on the court at this moment, they tend to operate as a single organism in the band’s day-to-day decision-making. They use a democratic process and any arguments are cleared up directly: “When one person is wrong, the rest of the group notices it and they just tell them straight up,” Solís says.
Solís sees a through line between the band’s padel habit and the heightened energy it unleashed on last year’s Live Nation-promoted Jugando tour. In 2023, when it first started touring extensively, Solís admits that he would tend to stay in the same spot while singing onstage. “Then this year, I would, like, run around and jump across the stage and stuff.” The guys start chortling, talking over one another as they consider how they might elevate their stage presence in 2025: “Backflips! Shirtless concerts! Splits!”
Should the band realize its stadium dreams, the group’s penchant for showmanship will likely still need to be amped up further. “The show needs an upgrade on the technical and musical sides,” explains Raymond Acosta, the director of talent management at Habibi who works with the band there. (The band has been signed to the management division of Rimas Entertainment since 2023.) “The larger space demands a greater offering to fans. It has to be a unique experience where fans feel part of something bigger than just a show. It’s a challenge to connect with every single person in that stadium.” But as Acosta sees it, a band like Grupo Frontera is up for that challenge: The act “can attract all types of crowds, which makes a significant difference.”
Beto Acosta
Jasmine Archie
For the moment, Grupo Frontera is embarking on something else it has never done before: taking a monthlong break to recalibrate from its breakneck touring schedule, right before delving into writing new music. The last item on its calendar in December involves distributing free holiday toys for a block party at Edinburg, Texas’ Bert Ogden Arena, where it held a spur-of-the-moment free performance for the community.
Grupo Frontera is cognizant of how it represents the Rio Grande Valley both out on the road and at home. And while it has always eschewed any talk of politics, it has inherently become part of any discussion of where the band comes from, as the U.S.-Mexico border is now a flash point for discussions about immigration, xenophobia and racism. When I ask in December if they’ve been feeling the reverberations of this particular political moment — with the vocally anti-immigrant Trump administration then about to enter the White House — and if their fans approach them wanting to talk about politics, the band deflects. “I mean, our group name, Grupo Frontera, I think it feels natural for people to be like, ‘You’re from the border,’ stuff like that,” Guerrero says. “We always try to keep that private.” Peña chimes in, saying that they strive to “talk about music, that’s it.” (Their publicist shuts down any further discussion of the topic.)
But recently, the band had to answer for a political controversy of its own, when a video of Solís’ grandmother (known as “La Abuela Frontera” online) dancing to “Y.M.C.A.,” a song that Trump played frequently on the campaign trail, circulated online. Coupled with a now-deleted TikTok video of the band jamming to the same song, it prompted outrage from fans who perceived it as the group celebrating Trump’s election win. The backlash has since led to boycotts and a petition calling for Grupo Frontera to be taken off the lineup for Sueños, a Chicago musical festival where it’s slated to perform in May.
In response, the band wrote in a statement that “Grupo Frontera has NO affiliation nor alliance with any political party that’s against immigrants and the Latino community. Like many of you, our families and [group] members have fought and struggled for a better future, and we will always take our people’s side, defending our roots and values. It’s important you know that the opinions of our friends and family don’t represent Grupo Frontera. We are immigrants, we are from the border, and Grupo Frontera will always be by and for the people.” The band also posted a video in late February stating that the “Y.M.C.A.” video had been part of a routine it had on its last tour, where it danced to a different song before each show; in it, Acosta lamented how a swirl of “fake news” had been “putting us against our own people.”
As they see it, their main obligation is to elevate the valley in the eyes of the world, especially the musicians who hail from their same stomping grounds. “There’s a lot of talent,” Guerrero says of musicians in the valley. “Better than us,” Acosta adds. To them, what prevents musicians from making a successful living in music here is a lack of recording studios — but they want to leave behind a “trail for everybody to do it,” Cantú says. That might eventually involve having bands record at their own studio. As the guys see it, it’s not so much that they “made it” out of the valley, but rather that they’re “trying to make the valley grow,” as Solís puts it.
It was that same kind of support that first convinced Grupo Frontera to stay independent, after hearing cautionary tales from Acosta’s brother and other local musicians who had signed unfavorable record deals. Since then, it has made as much of an effort to learn the back end of the music business as it does fine-tuning chord progressions, often seeking Barrera’s counsel. Even after it was first approached by a few big labels, the band had “a gut feeling that it was not the right choice at the time,” Cantú says, a smile growing across his face. “And it worked out pretty good.”
The members believe these incremental steps, along with their unconventional approach, will take them where they eventually plan to be. “We’re trying to become superstars,” Peña says. “Something that 30 years from now, somebody’s going to look back [and say], ‘Dude, you remember Frontera?’ ”
A while back, Peña recalls, someone in Grupo Frontera (he doesn’t remember who) mentioned wanting to become like AC/DC or Queen — a timeless band steeped in mythos. At first, Peña scoffed at the idea. “I remember saying, ‘Dude, shut up. Like, what the hell?’ ” he says. “And now I think about it like, ‘Why not?’ I mean, why can’t we be that?”
This story appears in the March 8, 2025, issue of Billboard.
“It was an uncomfortable song to play my mom,” Leon Thomas admits of “Mutt,” a flirtatious track that mentions the urge to “pop a shroom to re-create the feeling.” “Mutt” marked the Grammy-winning songwriter’s first Billboard Hot 100 entry as a recording artist, following years of behind-the-scenes work that includes hits for Ariana Grande, SZA and more. And his mother loved it, too. “She told me this is going to be one of my biggest records. She spoke into existence.”
For Thomas, 31 — the Brooklyn-bred son of Black Rock Coalition parents, and the grandson of the late opera singer John Anthony — music and family have always been intertwined. His parents, who frequented CBGB, laid the musical foundation for the rock-infused soul he explores on Mutt, his sophomore album released last September.
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Since then, he supported Blxst on tour and embarked on his own headlining trek — but February in particular solidified Thomas’ turn from songwriting savant to front-facing R&B star. “Mutt” entered the Hot 100 on the Feb. 8 chart (and reaches a new No. 67 peak on the March 8-dated list); he made his live-TV debut with the song on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert the same week; and then performed on NPR’s Tiny Desk later that month, where he dedicated 2022 single “Breaking Point” to his recently deceased grandfather (Thomas attended his funeral directly after the taping). “He was the anchor to my journey,” says Thomas. “I can tell he was with me musically.”
Leon Thomas
Raymond Alva
While his past month looks like a whirlwind of success, Thomas’ breakthrough has been nearly two decades in the making. At 13, with Broadway runs in The Lion King, The Color Purple and Caroline, Or Change under his belt, Thomas signed his first deal with Columbia Records. “I was walking into the boardroom playing Stevie Wonder covers and in-depth love songs,” he reflects with a laugh. “They were like, ‘What we gon’ do with this? Did you even hit puberty?’” Around that time, he made his theatrical debut in the 2007 film August Rush, which led to a Nickelodeon development deal that landed him roles on shows from The Backyardigans to Victorious.
As the deal was nearing its end and Victorious approached its 2013 series finale, Thomas explored his options, and received advice from Republic Records’ Wendy Goldstein, who was the label’s senior vp of A&R at the time. “Journeying through your twenties is you becoming everything that you need from everybody else,” she told him. “Those words stuck with me on some Spider-Man s–t,” he says today.
He spent the better part of the next decade learning the independent scene, studying under Babyface and Boi-1da (and by extension, Drake’s camp), and was briefly signed to Alex da Kid’s KIDinaKORNER. He met manager Jonathan Azu in 2019 and became the first act on his Culture Collective roster. Two years later, he landed a record deal with Ty Dolla $ign and Motown Records’ joint venture, EZMNY, after running into A&R Shawn Barron on a grocery run.
“I was kind of scared because signing under an artist can be either heaven or hell,” says Thomas. “Luckily, I’m stomping around in heaven right now.”
During his time at Motown, Thomas has experienced several different leadership regimes following restructurings by parent company Universal Music Group. Now under Capitol Music Group chairman/CEO Tom March — who Thomas says “gets my vision and is down to support real music” — he was able to execute his ideal album rollout for Mutt.
The campaign kicked off last August — a year after his debut full-length, Electric Dusk — with the release of the album’s title track. A funky R&B midtempo tune that nods to Enchantment’s “Silly Love Song” by way of a Bootsy Collins-esque bassline, “Mutt” was the product of Thomas’ desire to “have a record that shows what I’m about: live music, funk and vulnerability.” Written in 2022, Thomas crafted “Mutt” on his living room floor while microdosing psychedelics and watching his dog and cat fight. “I saw the similarities between us and how we have good intentions but don’t always do the right thing,” he told Billboard last year.
The single’s steady chart climb is largely due to Thomas and Azu’s “all ships rise” business approach. Instead of exhausting resources on one song, they banked on word-of-mouth from his live performances to help people discover “Mutt” along with the rest of the album.
“We [noticed] the crowd’s reaction when ‘Mutt’ would play: the phones were always up, but they would really come out for ‘Mutt,’” says Azu. The song continued naturally gaining traction in R&B circles with those familiar with Thomas’ songwriting and production work. “Everybody knows how dangerous he is in the studio with other people’s work,” Azu adds.
Jonathan Azu (left) and Leon Thomas at the 2024 Grammy Awards.
Courtesy of Culture Collective
Thomas launched a 13-date headlining tour in October at intimate venues across the U.S., and the trek doubled as a way to promote himself at radio. “A lot of program directors are just outside the Victorious demographic, but the people in the studios and offices are within that demographic, and so are [their] children,” says Azu. “Doing [that] work is so important for the foundation to go for adds.”
As “Mutt” climbs at three different Billboard airplay rankings (R&B/Hip-Hop Airplay, Mainstream R&B/Hip-Hop Airplay and Adult R&B Airplay, where it hits a No. 7 best on the March 8 chart), Thomas is playing the long game. “I loved seeing how Lizzo kept promoting her hits and didn’t stop believing in them,” he says. A deluxe edition of Mutt is also in the works, and Thomas mentions potential collaborations with Kehlani, Big Sean and Halle Bailey in the hopper, in addition to a previously teased team-up with Stormzy. Plus, there’s a song on which Thomas plays every instrument.
“There [are] sides to me that I haven’t shown the world yet, so I’m spoon-feeding them,” Thomas says. “You need to hide the medicine in the candy. This deluxe is me stepping deeper into my purpose.”
A version of this story appears in the March 8, 2025, issue of Billboard.
On the brick wall facing the Pittsburg Hot Links parking lot, a mural memorializes the small East Texas town’s most famous citizens, including Mean Gene the Hot Link King and Homer Jones, the New York Giants receiver who invented spiking the football after a touchdown.
Soon enough, Pittsburg native Koe Wetzel could be right up there with them. “Maybe [after] a couple more No. 1s,” Wetzel muses as he looks up at those faces. He sounds dubious that he has earned his spot quite yet, but the 32-year-old singer-songwriter is well on his way. His breakthrough hit about a volatile relationship, “High Road” with Jessie Murph, spent five weeks at No. 1 on Billboard’s Country Airplay chart in December and January. “I know the folks who own the place,” he adds with a laugh. “I might go buy some watercolors and paint it myself.”
Koe Wetzel performs at Billboard Presents THE STAGE at SXSW at Moody Amphitheater at Waterloo Park in Austin on March 13. Get your tickets here.
Wetzel may not believe he’s a local legend yet, but it’s clear that here in his hometown, his star status is confirmed. As he strides across the crosswalk Abbey Road-style in historic Downtown Pittsburg at 8:30 a.m., a fan sticks his head out of a store door and yells “My hero!” his way. Wetzel left Pittsburg (population: 4,335) when he was 18 to attend Tarleton State University in Stephensville, Texas, on a football scholarship as a linebacker. He now lives outside Fort Worth, but his roots run through his gritty brand of country rock, which he delivers in a powerful twang that draws on the long tradition of Texas outlaw country and confessional storytellers like Townes Van Zandt and Guy Clark.
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“Koe is the epitome of an artist that is writing his own narrative,” Jelly Roll tells Billboard of Wetzel, whom he toured with in 2022 on the wryly titled Role Models outing. “He’s not writing what everyone else writes. He’s not trying to write another person’s narrative; he’s writing the way he naturally feels. I’ve been a fan of his for a long time — since his first project.”
Whatever he’s singing about — turbulent romances, getting busted for drunk driving or popping pills to get to sleep after a show — in song and conversation, Wetzel is unashamedly himself, with no apologies and no regrets, just like his namesake, country rabble-rouser David Allan Coe. “I was probably conceived to a David Allan Coe song,” he speculates. (His full name is Ropyr Madison Koe Wetzel; “My mom was pretty indecisive,” he says with a playful shake of his head at the multiple names.)
By the time he got kicked out of college his sophomore year for “having too good a time,” Wetzel was already playing shows and focused more on music than books. “Being a Texas artist, you can tour year-round here in Texas. A lot of people do and make a damn good living at it,” he says. “Coming up, that was kind of my main goal and pretty much my only goal.”
Koe Wetzel photographed January 22, 2025 in Pittsburg, Texas.
Eric Ryan Anderson
Jeb Hurt, who has managed Wetzel since 2019, recalls seeing him at a 300-capacity venue in San Marcos, Texas, in 2016. “If there were 200 there, 125 of them were college girls, and they were crammed against the stage screaming every word back to the band,” he says. Hurt, then a booking agent, quickly signed Wetzel, whose audiences grew exponentially through word-of-mouth. “If it was 200 people, the next time there were 400, then 800,” Hurt says. “Next thing you know, we’re in 5,000-cap venues in 24 months.”
Now, Wetzel — who signed with Columbia Records in 2020 — is building his audience around the rest of the country and the world. He toured in Europe last year and will play Australia in March. “It used to be about having a good time, making rent, making gas money to get to the next show,” Wetzel reflects. “And now it’s completely different. It’s wild to see where it’s come from and where we’re at.”
While his act is still built around raising hell onstage, Wetzel has realized that by sharing his own often unsettling stories, he’s helping others feel less alone. “Whenever I see those people sing the songs back or I’m meeting them and [they’re] telling me that what I told them saved their life — they were going to off themselves — that is really special,” Wetzel says, his voice growing thick with emotion. “I didn’t know that it was going to be that way, but now that it is, it’s opened up my mind and my eyes … This isn’t about just taking care of the family anymore and setting everybody up. It’s more about helping these folks live life. But they’re helping me as well. Without them, I’d be out pouring concrete.”
When Wetzel began working on his current album, 2024’s 9 Lives, with Columbia senior vp of A&R Ben Maddahi, his relationship with the label was bruised. “We’d had a bumpy road in our first few album cycles with Columbia,” Hurt says. “Some people left pretty consistently, and so by the time we got to Ben, there was kind of a sense of exhaustion on our [part] of just another A&R person being thrown our way.”
That’s not to say he hadn’t achieved some level of success. After releasing three albums independently, Wetzel had put out two more through the label, including his cheekily titled Columbia debut, Sellout. That and his second album, 2022’s Hell Paso, had together registered eight songs in the top 40 of Billboard’s Hot Rock & Alternative Songs chart, and the latter set reached No. 3 on Top Country Albums.
Columbia Records chairman/CEO Ron Perry asked Maddahi, who had worked with pop forces like Sia, Flo Rida and Charlie Puth, to meet with Wetzel. “Ron said something to the effect of, ‘He sells tons of tickets and has a die-hard fan base … We have really high hopes for him, but for some reason this hasn’t worked so far,’ ” Maddahi says.
In June 2023, Maddahi flew to Fort Worth to see Wetzel perform a sold-out show at the 14,000-capacity Dickies Arena. “He had an entire arena of people shouting out every word from the nosebleeds to the front row,” Maddahi recalls. “I came back [to the office] saying, ‘This guy’s a superstar.’ ”
Eric Ryan Anderson
Maddahi next flew to a show in Modesto, Calif., after which he and Wetzel had a heart-to-heart about the next album. “I wanted to slow things down,” says Wetzel, who was listening to acts like ambient pop band Cigarettes After Sex. “I didn’t want the super-edgy guitars, really loud drums.”
Maddahi paired him with Gabe Simon, best known for co-producing Noah Kahan’s Stick Season, and brought in several new co-writers, including Amy Allen, who won the 2024 Grammy Award for songwriter of the year and has written hits for Sabrina Carpenter and Harry Styles. It was during a writers camp with Allen and several other songwriters that the midtempo “High Road,” about a tempestuous, dysfunctional relationship, was born.
He and Maddahi immediately thought of Jessie Murph, whom Wetzel had co-written with before, to join him on “High Road,” and when she sent over a verse, “she killed it,” Wetzel recalls. Columbia partnered with RECORDS Nashville to work the song to country radio, and its ascent began.
“He’s very true to himself, and the songs he writes are exactly how he is, which is something I respect a lot,” Murph says of Wetzel. “When I first heard ‘High Road,’ it felt very nostalgic to me. It felt like a song I could’ve heard when I was a kid, which I loved.” To thank Murph, Wetzel bought her a pistol engraved with their names and the song’s title that took three months to make. “I felt it was really Texas of me,” he says proudly.
9 Lives’ cover is a photograph of the double-wide trailer Wetzel lived in with his parents until he was 12. It’s abandoned now and has fallen into disrepair, with broken slats on the wood steps and prickly bushes growing over the front porch. But inside, it’s still full of books, video tapes, pots and pans, photos of his maternal and paternal great-grandparents and a CD of Miranda Lambert’s 2007 album, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. Long gone are the posters that hung on Wetzel’s bedroom walls of his first crush, teen pop star JoJo, and legendary slugger Mark McGwire. The last inhabitant he remembers was his uncle, who died several years ago. He’s not sure who’s living there now, if anyone. Standing inside, he surmises, “I think it’s just a big ol’ family of raccoons.”
His father was a truck driver who shifted into construction when Wetzel was around 11, enabling the family to build a house on the land and move out of the trailer. His mother was a bank teller and a singer who often took Wetzel along to her gigs. He remembers, at age 5, grabbing his dad’s old Hummingbird guitar that was down to two or three strings, “being in my Spider-Man underwear and feeling like I was playing to a million people. Looking back now, it’s like a dream come true.”
Koe Wetzel photographed January 22, 2025 in Pittsburg, Texas.
Eric Ryan Anderson
As a teen, he loved ’90s country, especially acts like the rough-hewn Kentucky Headhunters. But he also loved Nirvana, so much so that at 12 he asked for tickets to see the band for Christmas — and his parents had to break the news that not only was the band not together, but Kurt Cobain had been dead for a decade. “Nirvana had a huge impact,” he says. “I think that resonates with the way I play music — the big guitars, the catchy melodic hooks.”
The trailer sits on 100 acres of land that his great-grandfather bought in the 1930s. Wetzel’s family had gotten behind on the taxes and risked losing it until he bought and paid off the property in 2021. “This land means so much to me and my family. I never wanted anyone else to have it,” he says. While he doesn’t see living on it again himself, he plans to add some cows and, “hopefully, raising a family and having them come out here.”
That family is expanding soon: Wetzel and his girlfriend, Bailey Fisher, are expecting a baby girl in June, news they would announce on social media a few weeks after our interview. “We dated in college, and the last two years resparked everything,” Wetzel explains, then adds with typical candor, “It’s not some random chick I knocked up. I mean, we’re excited as hell. I’m scared as f–k … I’m getting older, I’m growing out of the college party lifestyle I’ve been on the last 10 years … They say there’s always a time to grow up and get your s–t together, and my stuff is not together by no means at all, [but] it’s a lot different than what it was.”
In a corner of Koe Wetzel’s Riot Room stands Dirty Sancho. The nonworking mechanical bull, named for the first Professional Bull Riders bull Wetzel bought (he now owns eight) is just one piece of his personal memorabilia decorating the 7,000-square-foot bar and nightclub Wetzel opened in Fort Worth’s Cultural District in 2023. “We’ve had to sew his head back on a couple of times,” he says of Dirty Sancho. “He’s seen some s–t.”
Wetzel opened the Fort Worth bar, in part, so he would have a place to “drink and party and not worry about people putting me in jail at night,” he says, sitting on a stool in the Riot Room sipping tequila over ice. (A second Riot Room will open in Houston later this year, with hopes of more locations to follow.)
He’s not kidding around. His boisterous “February 28, 2016” from 2016’s Noise Complaint chronicles the night he was arrested for drunk driving, describing how in his inebriated state he just wants to find someone “sober enough to take me to Taco Bell.” The song has become an anthem for his fans, so much so that they’ve made Feb. 28 unofficial Koe Wetzel Day. On that day this year, he released a live album culled from 2024’s Damn Near Normal tour to thank his fans and dropped by the bar to play a few songs live, but he winces a little when he talks about the tune.
“Whenever we play it, I’m very grateful for what it’s done for us, but I’m kind of like, ‘F–k,’ ” he says. He doesn’t hate the song, exactly — it’s just that he’s in a very different place at 32 than he was when he wrote it at 24. “I’m not that person as an artist anymore,” he says. “I’m not that person just having a good time.”
Eric Ryan Anderson
He has different regrets about “Drunk Driving” from 2020’s Sellout. In a catalog of dark songs, it’s one of Wetzel’s darkest: The narrator is driving drunk and trying to outrun his sins as he sings, “Everybody’s got to die somehow/Why not me right now.” It was Wetzel’s attempt to put himself in the mindset of some friends who had died in drunk driving accidents, and, looking back, he wishes he had named it something else. “The song’s not about condoning drunk driving or anything like that,” he says. “It’s a very emotional song.”
Then there’s Hell Paso track “Cabo,” which he swears is a true story about spending money on hookers and blow in the Mexican resort town. The crowd goes crazy when he plays it, he says, but he admits, “Me and Mama haven’t really talked about that one. I know it’s not her favorite by far.” (His mother and father do have plenty of other favorites and frequently come to his gigs: “I think they cry every damn show, her and my pops,” he says. “They’re crying, singing all the words. They’re proud of their baby boy.”)
The connection his fans have to some of Wetzel’s older, often brutally honest lyrics can lead to the misperception that he’s “some f–king hellion,” says Wetzel, who quit counting his number of tattoos at 36. “I feel like most of my music came from whenever I was going balls to the wall, and it’s just kind of not who I am anymore. I can still run it with the best of them, but I feel like they make their opinion of me before they get to meet me, and sometimes that sucks.”
Still, he admits that 1 p.m. Koe and 4 a.m. Koe are two different people. “That’s rock star Koe. He’s kind of a d–k,” he says of the late-night version. “He’s a lot of fun, but he can get out of hand really f–king fast.”
Eric Ryan Anderson
He has somewhat curbed his drinking, including switching from whiskey to tequila. On his Damn Near Normal tour last year, he and some of his bandmates had a ritual: “An hour before the show, we’ll drink a bottle of tequila. If I start earlier, then the show will be s–t, but if I start just after 5 p.m. and kind of drink a couple beers, bottle of tequila, then it’s like the right amount. You get onstage, everything’s smooth sailing, and it feels good.”
He has also changed his after-show routine, hopping straight on the bus as soon as the concert is over. “They took the after-parties away from me. I go shower on the bus, put my comfy clothes on, drink a couple beers, watch a movie, and I was in bed by midnight, 1 o’clock,” he says before admitting: “Honestly, I kind of enjoyed it. I sounded better than I ever had because I was taking care of myself a little bit more.”
Koe Wetzel’s lake house is haunted by a ghost his two younger sisters have named Irene. There’s an underwater cemetery about 100 yards away in the lake, but no one knows if there’s any connection. Irene causes all kinds of mischief, Wetzel says, including throwing bottles off the bar and turning on the TV. “You’ll see her walking the balcony up here every now and then,” he says, describing an opaque apparition. “She kind of f–ks with new people who stay here.” As if on cue, the closed front door suddenly swings wide open on its own.
Irene’s presence notwithstanding, “it’s a safe haven for me,” Wetzel says of this place on Pittsburg’s outskirts. With its spotty cell service, he can unplug, write and relax. “I bought it for us to make more memories,” he says of his friends and family, who come to grill and hang out on his five boats.
The walls on one side are lined with RIAA plaques — 12 of his songs have been certified gold or platinum — while the rest are covered with fish, bird and deer mounts, including deer killed by three generations of Wetzel men. But pride of place goes to an alligator skull on a sideboard; Wetzel killed the reptile with a buck knife during COVID-19 isolation in Matagorda Bay, Texas. “I got in the water, Steve Irwin’d him a little bit,” he says, sipping a Busch Light and pointing to a photo of him sitting astride the alligator. “Cool story to tell but my mom hates that story. She don’t like it when I do dumb s–t. She worries about her baby way too much.”
Eric Ryan Anderson
There’s also a photo of him with a giant catfish he caught with his bare hands — known as noodling — in the lake. His biggest catch has been 62 pounds, which he and his buddies tagged and tossed back. Asked whether killing a bear with a bow and arrow or having a five-week No. 1 is more satisfying, Wetzel pauses to give the question considerable thought, then decides: “Adrenaline-wise, killing a bear with a bow. Accomplishment-wise, a five-week No. 1.”
For all his love of hunting and fishing, those subjects haven’t found their way into Wetzel’s music. “I feel like I was put here to write about relationships gone bad or going good. Real-world stuff, I guess,” he says. “Not saying that hunting is not. It’s a huge part of my life and I love it to death, but I just guess I haven’t figured out what I wanted to say about it yet.”
Yet as he begins working on new music, Wetzel, who will tour this year with HARDY and Morgan Wallen, as well as play Stagecoach and other festivals, says he’s increasingly finding that all his passions are intertwined.
“I feel like every time I’m [writing], it peels back a layer of who I am. I find something that I didn’t know was there,” he says. “Whenever you get the song completed, there’s no more holes in it. There’s nothing else you could do for that song. It’s like, ‘Man, this is insane. This is really cool.’ It’s almost like the noodling and the hunting for me: It’s something that I feel like I’ll never master, but it’s what keeps me coming back and back. It’s a cool deal.”
This story appears in the March 8, 2025, issue of Billboard.
From Usher’s Super Bowl showcase to the most musically talented Met, appearances related to major sporting events helped artists across genres — and at different career points — earn sizable streaming gains in 2024. (All data according to Luminate.)
And the trend has continued so far in 2025: Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl Halftime Show on Feb. 9 was a major boost for the rapper.
UsherSuper Bowl LVIII (Feb. 11)
The combination of Usher’s career-spanning medley during his spectacular Super Bowl halftime show and the release of his album Coming Home two days earlier helped his streaming catalog skyrocket 299% compared with the previous week, with his 2004 smash “Yeah!” among the biggest gainers.
Jennifer HudsonNBA All-Star Game (Feb. 18)
The R&B veteran’s halftime show medley of her songs “Remission” and “I Got This” at Indianapolis’ Gainbridge Fieldhouse helped give her catalog a 4% boost in weekly streams.
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Candelita“OMG” On-Field Performance (June 28)
New Yorks Mets infielder Jose Iglesias moonlights as the recording artist Candelita, and his live debut of his single “OMG” following a Mets game at Citi Field helped the song move over 1,000 weekly downloads and top the Latin Digital Song Sales chart.
Gojira2024 Summer Olympics Opening Ceremony (July 26)
Lady Gaga and Céline Dion were among the stars helping ring in the Summer Games in Paris, but French rockers Gojira grabbed headlines by becoming the first metal band to perform at the Olympics. Its catalog earned a 283% streaming bump over the next four days in the process.
Kavinsky2024 Summer Olympics Closing Ceremony (Aug. 11)
As athletes said au revoir to Paris by joining Phoenix, Air and Vampire Weekend’s Ezra Koenig onstage, French producer Kavinsky dropped his 2010 synthwave single “Nightcall,” causing a Shazam sensation and boosting the track’s streams by 74%.
BeyoncéNFL Christmas Day Halftime Show (Dec. 25)
During Netflix’s first NFL Christmas showcase, Queen Bey presented songs from her Cowboy Carter album live for the first time at NRG Stadium in her hometown of Houston — and the album shot from 7.4 million weekly streams to 17.6 million during the following week, up 137%.
Kendrick LamarSuper Bowl LIX
Kendrick Lamar was already one of the world’s most-streamed artists, but his riveting halftime show at Super Bowl LIX on Sunday (Feb. 9) helped his biggest hits — and his entire discography — climb even higher. On Feb. 10, the day after his performance at New Orleans’ Caesars Superdome, Lamar’s streaming catalog earned 70.9 million official U.S. on-demand streams — a 153% increase from the previous Monday’s total (27.5 million on Feb. 3), according to Luminate. Similar spikes occurred for halftime highlights “Squabble Up” (up 159% in daily streams) and “TV Off” (up 139%), while “Not Like Us” earned an even greater uptick (up 222%); meanwhile, Lamar’s costar SZA, who joined him on two songs during the showcase, saw her own streaming catalog soar, up 58% to 30.3 million streams on the day after the big game.
This story appears in the Feb. 8, 2025, issue of Billboard.
The NBA All-Star Game — where the greats from the league’s two conferences face off every February — has been a staple of every professional basketball season since 1951 (outside of 1999, due to the lockout-shortened season). But as Carlton Myers, the NBA’s senior vp/head of live production and entertainment points out, “The NBA is […]
In the same way every pro sports championship run looks a little different, so do the ways teams integrate music into their winning formulas. For some, it’s finding the perfect locker room jam; for others, its giving new meaning to the music of a hometown hero.
But for all of them, music provides an X factor that could well make the difference on game day.
Boston Celtics2024 NBA Champions
BIA at halftime of game two of the 2024 NBA Finals in Boston on June 9, 2024.
Adam Glanzman/Getty Images
Widely considered the most successful franchise in NBA history, the Celtics called on their community during the 2023-24 season when competing for their now league-leading 18th championship. For the season’s marketing campaign, Different Here, “We wanted to focus on showcasing local musical artists and what makes Boston’s culture different,” says Carley Lenahan, Celtics director of live production and entertainment. “Connecting with our community and fans is integral to the support they show the Celtics, and the support and energy from our fans during a championship run is everything.”
On opening night of the 2023-24 season, the Celtics launched their Local Artist Halftime Series with performances by Boston-based hip-hop stars Esoteric and Latrell James and Roxbury native Oompa. “During a championship run, the home court advantage is key to a successful series, and we understand how important it is that the players can feed off the atmosphere and energy in the arena,” Lenahan says. Throughout the season, the nine artists from the Boston area were featured across seven Local Artist Halftime Series shows, culminating in Medford, Mass., native BIA’s performance at game two of the NBA Finals.
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“As a lifelong Celtics fan, I’ve been going to games since I was 10,” BIA says. “The opportunity to perform my music on the iconic parquet floor in front of my hometown crowd and my all-time favorite team was truly an honor and a full-circle moment.”
Kansas City Chiefs2023 and 2024 Super Bowl Winners
Mecole Hardman Jr. (second from right) celebrates with Patrick Mahomes (right), Travis Kelce (second from left) and Jawaan Taylor (far left) after catching the game-winning touchdown pass at the 2024 Super Bowl LVIII in Las Vegas on Feb. 11, 2024.
Ezra Shaw/Getty Images
Many sports franchises lean on hometown artists to galvanize their teams, but the Kansas City Chiefs find musical inspiration in a different place: their locker room.
Amid the run-ups to the Chiefs’ back-to-back Super Bowl wins in 2023 and 2024, artists like 50 Cent, Future and YoungBoy Never Broke Again were constantly on shuffle to motivate the team during marquee postseason matchups. “I feel like in-season, it’s kind of a variety. We got multiple artists [that we listen to] depending on who is new and who is hot then,” Chiefs All-Pro cornerback Trent McDuffie says. “The postseason, we get back to the classics. We go old school.”
According to McDuffie, one new song has made its way through the cracks since the team won it all last year: BossMan Dlow’s “Get In With Me,” which has become a beloved anthem for players and coaches alike in the locker room. A close second? “Tweaker,” the current viral hit from LiAngelo “G3 GELO” Ball (himself a former pro-baller). But only two players have the privilege of managing the team’s turn-up tunes. “We’re strict on who can control the aux,” McDuffie says. “Most of the time, it’s either Jawaan Taylor or Chris Jones.”
Los Angeles Dodgers2024 MLB World Series Winners
Ice Cube opened game two of the 2024 World Series in Los Angeles on Oct. 26, 2024.
Harry How/Getty Images
The 2024 MLB World Series faceoff between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the New York Yankees couldn’t have been more high stakes. And to commemorate the East-West matchup between two of the biggest sports markets, the MLB tapped two beloved music stars — New York native Fat Joe and Los Angeles icon Ice Cube — to perform at their respective home fields.
Following a 1-0 series lead against the Yankees, Cube performed his 1993 classic “It Was a Good Day” from the pitcher’s mound at Dodger Stadium. Rocking Dodgers gear from head to toe, his performance enlivened the home team, which not only secured a game-two win but the overall series in five games. All-Star Kiké Hernández thanked Cube during the team’s championship celebration at Dodger Stadium, telling the thousands of fans in attendance, “Ice Cube came out with his performance in game two, and we didn’t even play [because] we already won it.”
“As a lifelong Dodgers fan who grew up watching them battle from the ’70s to the ’80s, that was a next-level dream come true,” Ice Cube tells Billboard. “To feel the energy of 52,000 fans going wild was otherworldly and contagious. You could feel it in the air. The crowd, the players — everybody was hyped. It was the perfect recipe for a win, and we all knew it at that moment.”
New York Liberty2024 WNBA Champions
Fat Joe at halftime of game five of the 2024 WNBA Finals in New York on Oct. 20, 2024.
Sarah Stier/Getty Images
Following a devastating championship loss the year prior, the WNBA team entered the 2024 season determined to bounce back — and understood the critical role its fans would play in that journey. Those hometown supporters turned out to include not only the spirited crowds flocking to Barclays Center for games, but local hip-hop legends like Fat Joe, Ja Rule and Jadakiss.
“Everything we do needs to have a through line of authenticity,” says Liberty chief brand officer Shana Stephenson, who spent the season recruiting homegrown New York talent to perform at home games. “Sometimes, there might be a pop artist who is a big name at the moment, but I might not want to book them because I don’t know if our crowd will resonate with their sound.”
After dominating the regular season and securing home court advantage throughout the WNBA playoffs, Stephenson leveraged her love for hip-hop to propel the team’s championship run. With its title hopes hanging in the balance, Stephenson enlisted the help of Liberty fan and basketball aficionado Fat Joe to ignite the energy for the crucial game five.
“Everybody knows ‘Lean Back,’ right? My dad can sing it. He leans back when it comes on. That’s an anthem,” Stephenson says.
In the end, her plan was a key element in helping the team achieve its historic championship win in October. “That’s the beautiful thing about music and sports: It can unite people in a beautiful and powerful way,” Fat Joe says. “One time for the Liberty Ladies.”
This story appears in the Feb. 8, 2025, issue of BIllboard.
When WWE Superstar Damian Priest learned that one of the biggest matches of his career would be held in Puerto Rico, he was overjoyed. For Priest, who was raised in Vega Baja, a small town just 26 miles from San Juan, it was more than a match — it was a long-awaited homecoming. But for this no-holds-barred San Juan Street Fight, the former World Heavyweight Champion would be lacing up his boots to face an unusual opponent: one of music’s brightest stars and arguably Puerto Rico’s favorite son, Bad Bunny.
“Here he is doing all these moves and being able to take them,” Priest recalls of the May 6, 2023, barn burner, where he lost by pinfall. “The fact that he could take all these hits and get back up — and I know he was in a lot of pain — that drive to succeed and entertain, he has it, like we all do.”
Bad Bunny actually made his WWE debut in January 2021, at the Royal Rumble in St. Petersburg, Fla., where he faced off against former WWE and UFC heavyweight champion Brock Lesnar. That April, he showcased more daredevil moves and aerial tactics — and turned skeptics into believers — at WrestleMania. And since then, he has continued to solidify his heavyweight status in the wrestling world with his unwavering passion for the craft.
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“Music and WWE have always run parallel,” Priest says. “When I describe how to make it in this business through the grind and the struggle, it’s always easier to explain it to musicians because they get it. It’s the same grind. You start performing in front of little to nobody in these greasy clubs, try to get noticed and then build up a reputation and a bit of a following. Hopefully, you get noticed by a record label or an artist who puts you on a tour, [and] it’s the same thing here.”
Bad Bunny and Damian Priest wrestle during the WWE Backlash at Coliseo de Puerto Rico José Miguel Agrelot on May 6, 2023 in San Juan, Puerto Rico.
Gladys Vega/ Getty Images
Though the WWE has been around for 70 years, the wrestling conglomerate is enjoying a renaissance — and the music industry has played a significant role in its post-pandemic resurgence. WWE president Nick Khan, who joined the company in 2020, has been at the forefront, connecting the dots between music and the WWE by bringing artists like Bad Bunny, Travis Scott, Metro Boomin, Cardi B, Meek Mill, Jelly Roll and Sexyy Red to collaborate with the company. Whether through actual matches, live TV segments or commercials for future premium live events, the strategic pairing has brought a fresh and diverse audience to WWE while elevating these artists’ status in the wrestling world.
In early January, WWE officially partnered with Netflix to present Monday Night Raw, its 34-year-old flagship show and the longest-running weekly episodic program without reruns in TV history. (The show most recently aired on USA Network from 2005 through the end of 2024.) The three-hour star-packed extravaganza featured wrestling immortals The Rock, John Cena and Hulk Hogan, and celebrities from Vanessa Hudgens and Tiffany Haddish to Travis Scott, Wale and Blxst attended. But unlike his peers, Scott wasn’t just a spectator — he escorted WWE Superstar Jey Uso ahead of his match. Scott — whom WWE chief content officer Paul Levesque (aka wrestler Triple H) gifted a Hardcore Championship belt during the rapper’s ComplexCon performance last November — wore the title draped around his shoulders and fed off the crowd’s electric energy as his own “Fein” reverberated throughout Los Angeles’ Intuit Dome. Sunglasses on and joint in hand, Scott sauntered out alongside Uso with the aura of a ’90s wrestler — a picture-perfect moment for both stars.
“The energy out there was crazy,” Scott tells Billboard. “I was talking to Triple H and was like, ‘Yo. This s–t is wild.’ In my shows, I try to create that maximum energy level and have the people feel they can reach the highest level of ecstasy as far as being happy and free. And in those environments — things like wrestling, and even in sports where the characters can be so free and create this livelihood for kids, adults and families — it’s dope.”
“When I found out I was coming out with Travis, I asked him, ‘Are you ready? Because this s–t is about to pop off,’ ” Uso adds. “I just didn’t expect that the brother was about to light one up before we walked out. He can do what he wants to do.”
This wasn’t the first time Uso had rubbed shoulders with a hip-hop superstar. Last April, at WrestleMania 40, he and Lil Wayne walked down the entranceway together at Philadelphia’s Lincoln Financial Field before a roaring crowd as the rapper’s “A Milli” and Uso’s entrance theme, “Main Event Ish,” played. It was a surreal moment for Uso: Before his WWE debut in 2007, he’d wrestled on the independent circuit alongside his twin brother, Jimmy, and they’d chosen Wayne’s 2004 hit “Go DJ” as their entrance music.
“We all grew up on Wayne in the late ’90s and early 2000s,” Uso says. “I’m talking about when he was with Hot Boyz and all that. It’s crazy how life comes full circle.” Before they walked out, Uso even cajoled Wayne into wearing some Uso merchandise: “He was real dope and cool with everything. He asked if I needed anything from him, and I said, ‘S–t, brother. Can you wear these “YEET” glasses for me? Here, put these on.’ ”
As artists rush to step inside the squared circle, wrestlers are moving with similar intention toward recording studios. Compelling entrance songs are vital in developing their characters, and since the ’90s, revered WWE Superstars like “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, The Rock and The Undertaker have placed fans in a choke hold with not only their iconic visual presentation but also their magnetic theme music. At the heart of those entrance songs is former WWE composer Jim Johnston, who used popular ’90s genres like hip-hop and rock to create songs based on the wrestlers’ characters.
For Austin, famously known as “The Texas Rattlesnake,” his hard-rocking entrance song, “I Won’t Do What You Tell Me,” became known for its glass-shattering sound effects. Austin didn’t record vocals for it, but Cena, whose earlier wrestling persona was a punchline-driven rapper, stepped inside the booth and rapped his “The Time Is Now.” That bold move paved the way for future superstars like Uso and Priest to infuse their entrances with their own personalities, adding a fun new element for fans to enjoy.
“It helps to have someone like [Slayer’s] Kerry King play guitar on my track,” says Priest, whose character has a darker, goth-like personality. “It’s pretty cool. While doing my own vocals on my song is pretty simple, it’s cool because it comes from me and what I wanted to say and feel during certain moments. People can bop their heads to it, and it adds to that aura.”
Bad Bunny, representing Latino World Order, takes the ring as he prepares to wrestle Dominik Mysterio during the WWE SmackDown at Coliseo de Puerto Rico José Miguel Agrelot on May 5, 2023 in San Juan, Puerto Rico.
Gladys Vega/ Getty Images
Uso’s hip-hop-influenced “Main Event Ish” is arguably the WWE’s most popular entrance song, with a simple but fiery hook (“It’s just me, Uce”), his unbridled energy and sharp ad-libs. His signature wave — now a staple at all WWE shows where he’s competing, in which he climbs the top rope and waves his hands up and down, controlling the crowd like a hip-hop maestro — accompanies the song.
“I flew to New York one day, sat [down with the writing team], put it together, knocked it out and it was on TV the next week,” Uso says of the track. “I knew I wanted to get on there and bring the energy. We always been musical, my whole family. We got hidden talents the world don’t know about.”
And as WWE enters WrestleMania season — with arguably its deepest roster since the ’90s — more musicians are looking to walk down the entrance ramp and pose a challenge, just like Bad Bunny first did four years ago. Fortunately for Bad Bunny, he had a great teacher in Priest, who, prior to their one-on-one showdown in Puerto Rico, served as his in-ring mentor and tag-team partner at WrestleMania 37, where they were victorious.
“A good match with another good wrestler is expected,” Priest says. “What I did with Bad Bunny was magic because nobody expected it. That’s not something you get to do all the time. I don’t know if I’ll ever get that chance again.”
This story appears in the Feb. 8, 2025, issue of Billboard.
Growing up in the projects of Río Piedras in San Juan, Ozuna had hoop dreams, playing on neighborhood courts until he finally accepted he would never be tall enough to go pro. His younger brother José Ginés, on the other hand, grew right past him and was eventually drafted in 2020 to play in the territory’s premier basketball division: the BSN, or Baloncesto Superior Nacional.
By then, Ozuna had left the projects far behind and become one of the world’s top reggaetón stars. And in 2022, he became the sole owner of BSN’s Los Brujos de Guayama, an underfunded team located far from San Juan. Ozuna moved it to the bigger city of Manatí and renamed it Osos de Manatí (the Manatí Bears, in a nod to his fondness for the animal). Within a year, it rose from last in the league to second place in the 2024 BSN championship.
“Those players needed a push from someone who was listening to them so they’d know there are bigger opportunities,” says Ozuna, who also hired his brother away from a previous team to play for Los Osos. “And I’m teaching them how to set goals and grow, and yes, maybe one day get to the NBA.”
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Ozuna is one of three huge reggaetón artists who in the past few years have acquired ownership in local BSN teams in Puerto Rico. In 2021, Bad Bunny joined manager Noah Assad and Rimas executive Jonathan Miranda in acquiring Los Cangrejeros de Santurce, and the same year, Anuel and his then-manager, Frabian Eli, purchased Los Capitanes de Arecibo. Though Anuel and Eli have since split up and ceded their team ownership, the three artists’ combined star power has reinvigorated a languishing Puerto Rican basketball scene.
While Ozuna put Los Osos on the map, Assad, Miranda and Bad Bunny literally revived Los Cangrejeros, who had been on hiatus since 2016. “We were approached by J.J. Barea, who said he wanted to play his last seasons in front of his home fans in Puerto Rico,” Assad explains. Owning the team, he says, is another way for him, Miranda and Bad Bunny to bring people together. “Puerto Rico is all about family. Just having the team has a positive impact.”
Ozuna has now also bought a minor league team, and he has a development team where kids train from 6 years old until the juniors level. “It’s like a basketball farm,” he says. “We have about 160 kids playing on 10 teams. We pay their transport, their snacks. The vision is for them to realize they have to work in steps to make it big. There’s a lot of talent here, but it wasn’t on display until we came along.”
Other artists outside Puerto Rico are apparently following his example. In January, Colombian rapper Ryan Castro announced he was acquiring a significant stake in Paisas Basketball Club, a professional team in his hometown of Medellín. “It’s another facet for us as entrepreneurs — supporting sports — because the kids in the barrios have the same dreams as us, the artists,” Castro tells Billboard. The same month, Colombian reggaetón star Blessd acquired a stake in Vendsyssel FF, a European second division soccer team.
Castro says his impetus for investing in a team came from his own love of the sport, much like Ozuna, who admits he didn’t have the tools to make it big himself. “Now I can do it for someone else. But it’s not about making money. It’s about love for basketball.”
This story appears in the Feb. 8, 2025, issue of Billboard.
By the time Temple University director of athletic bands Dr. Matt Brunner finally listened to Chappell Roan’s music, many of the young adults in his life — students, band alums, even his son’s girlfriend — had already implored him to check her out.
When he did play the singer’s debut album, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, he quickly realized why they’d been so adamant. “I started listening and I was like, ‘Oh, my God. This is awesome. I absolutely have to do this,’ ” he recalls excitedly months later. “Everything about it just worked.”
By that, Brunner means Roan’s glitzy dance-pop tracks seemed tailor-made for a marching band — full of the catchiness and energy the format demands, plus the kind of melodies that begged to be amplified by high brass and drum line-ready percussion. Still struck by how fast the arrangement came to him, Brunner orchestrated a 10-minute halftime medley of the pop star’s music that his marchers eagerly learned in just three rehearsals ahead of the Owls’ September football game against Utah State at Philadelphia’s Lincoln Financial Field.
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Their work paid off before they even stepped onto the field. “Some people said, ‘I’m coming to the football game just to see the show,’ ” Brunner says with a laugh, recalling how the student section later came to life doing Roan’s viral “Hot To Go!” choreography along with the band. With that energy behind it, Temple bested Utah State, 45-29.
Temple University Diamond Marching Band performs at the Temple Owls game against Utah State on Sept. 21, 2024 in Philadelphia, PA.
Ricky Swalm
That kind of stadium-rocking enthusiasm is exactly what motivates collegiate band directors all over the country — whether at major state schools like Temple; smaller, private institutions; or historically Black colleges and universities — to adapt current chart-toppers for halftime shows, stand tunes (keeping the bleachers hyped during timeouts and between plays) and pep rallies every year. Having evolved far beyond their 19th-century military band origins, marching ensembles are now key fixtures in the spectacle of college game days, tasked with engaging fans and generating the kind of hype that will inspire the team, reflect well on the school and, ultimately, manifest in more ticket sales. One of the best ways to serve that mission, the directors of seven different ensembles tell Billboard at the end of their 2024-25 football season, is to incorporate fresh pop music into their repertoires — a goal that’s easier said than done.
For starters, not all pop songs are created equal in the world of marching bands. Directors have numerous considerations to make when vetting potential selections, from crowd appeal — which many of them measure by surveying students, patrolling the Billboard Hot 100 and tracking Spotify streams as early as spring to determine what will be trendy in the fall — to whether they can secure the necessary licensing, budgeting anywhere from a few thousand dollars to five-digit sums for rights-buying each year.
They also must weigh if a hit has enough longevity to justify the time spent getting permissions and then arranging and teaching it to 300-plus marchers. Notre Dame director of bands Dr. Ken Dye still ruefully remembers a “Macarena” draft his ensemble never got to play before the dance craze fell out of favor in the ’90s. He also notes with a laugh that he tries to steer clear of tracks with inappropriate lyrics, to avoid repeating the time he received a stern email “from the boss” over a performance of Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky.” Turning 180 this year, The Fighting Irish’s college marching band is the oldest in the United States and also represents a Catholic university. (So far, nothing has hit Dye’s inbox over the “motherf–ker” bomb in Sabrina Carpenter’s “Please Please Please,” which he paired with Post Malone and Morgan Wallen’s “I Had Some Help” for a 2024 halftime.)
But checking those boxes isn’t enough if a song doesn’t first have the musical foundation of a good marching band tune. University of Southern California (USC) band director Dr. Jacob Vogel says that compelling, stackable melodies; harmonies; basslines; and background elements are crucial ingredients, emphasizing how important variation is for filling stadiums with sound. “I refer to it as the enveloping nature of music,” he explains. “Why do people turn music on so loud in their car? So they feel like they’re inside of it. When I put our arrangements together, I want to make sure the band also has that enveloping nature.”
Fortunately, pop’s current crop of upbeat, melodically driven hits led by the likes of Roan and Carpenter offers those elements in abundance. But Vogel remembers two eras that definitely did not: the Adele-style power ballads of the mid-2010s, which were simply too slow for marching, and the EDM crossover phase before that, which was laden with dubstep dance breaks that band instruments couldn’t replicate.
Hip-hop, band directors say, has always been case by case. Horns can’t mimic the spoken quality of rap, but they can do a track justice if it has a prominent instrumental — like Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us,” which Southern University’s Human Jukebox covered this season. “ ‘They not like us, they not like us’; we wouldn’t be able to musically execute that,” director Dr. Kedric Taylor explains. “But we are able to musically execute ‘bum bum ba bum,’ ” he continues, singing the chromatic four-note string theme that anchors Lamar’s hit and got new heft courtesy of Southern’s screaming horn line.
Once songs are selected and parts assigned, directors and their staff can design field routines — an art form that, at times, is as straightforward as mining a song’s lyrics for ideas. Vogel’s students at USC formed a deck of cards while playing Beyoncé’s “Texas Hold ’Em” at halftime, while Brunner, fully aware of a particular lyric’s cheeky double meaning, had his Temple marchers take the shape of a rabbit during Roan’s “Red Wine Supernova” after spelling out her first name. “I can play dumb,” he says with a laugh. “I figured that the people that knew about it would love it and the people that didn’t would be like, ‘Oh, that’s cute.’ ”
Temple University Diamond Marching Band performs at the Temple Owls game against Utah State on Sept. 21, 2024 in Philadelphia, PA.
Ricky Swalm
Other parts of the field plan are far less intuitive. Directors must always think mechanically about the relationship between drill and music to ensure that their bands’ sound isn’t compromised by the spacing, timing or direction of any on-field configurations. The list of errors to avoid is endless, as University of Michigan assistant director of bands Dr. Richard Frey illustrates: “Where you place the tubas relative to the melody ends up being critical. If the drums are on the 10-yard line, we’re in big trouble. If you’re backward marching at 172 bpm, the sound’s not going to be great.”
But that painstaking attention to detail pays off on game day, when the marchers finally get to show off their hard work and see how it fires up fans in real time. Their pop arrangements are usually mixed in with classic hits and school songs, but Auburn University director Dr. Corey Spurlin — recalling how the student section sang and danced to Carpenter’s “Espresso” throughout the 2024 season — can attest that the more recent tracks are particularly useful for engaging the crowd. And as long as collegiate marching bands can do that, he says, the ensembles, and not recorded music, will remain “the soundtrack of college football.”
“When people come to the stadium, you want that experience to be worth the investment,” Spurlin says. “Bands are the key cog in being the sight — and sound especially — of college football and making people feel like they’re part of the pageantry. The percussion, the brass, the woodwinds — that’s what we associate with the sport. You can’t get that in your living room.”
Incorporating popular music also helps bands promote themselves and their schools far beyond campus. Many of the directors interviewed here scored viral moments for their shows this year, and one group, Jackson State University’s Sonic Boom of the South, even caught the attention of an artist it covered: Tyler, The Creator, who retweeted a video of the band’s speaker-busting rendition of “Sticky” in November and wrote, “THIS IS WHY I ARRANGED IT THAT WAY … MY HEART IS FILLED.”
“That’s what arranging is all about,” director Dr. Roderick Little says proudly of the rapper’s reaction. “Music is such an important vehicle because it can be interpreted by different musicians a thousand different ways.
“I’m just happy that our program was the one to bring his vision to life,” he adds. “I hope that it brings about new opportunities for marching bands so we can continue to create this art form and ultimately provide opportunities for our students — because we have a lot to offer.”
This story appears in the Feb. 8, 2025, issue of Billboard.
P-Lo stands under a basketball hoop on a rooftop outdoor court that overlooks downtown San Francisco, surrounded by the Bay Area Avengers — Saweetie, Larry June, Kamaiyah, G-Eazy, thuy, LaRussell and YMTK, all local MCs gathered to shoot the video for their new track “Player’s Holiday ’25.” The song is part of an upcoming project spearheaded by P-Lo and Golden State Entertainment (GSE), the record label and content division of the NBA’s Golden State Warriors, which is planning to release the album in partnership with EMPIRE to celebrate the local music scene ahead of NBA All-Star Weekend in San Francisco in mid-February. The vibe on-set is breezy and free; the collection of talent, both on the song and hanging out here today, makes the afternoon feel like the modern-day, Bay version of the Great Day in Harlem celebrating the 1950s New York jazz scene.
“Just having all the creatives and artists in the Bay there for that and just being able to be present in that moment and really put that thing together to represent the Bay correctly [was special],” P-Lo says. “There’s been so much negative talk about San Francisco and Oakland [Calif.] and how dangerous it is, and all these bad things about our region and our area, and we wanted to just show the unity and our resilience to all of that.”
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All told, the album — called For the Soil — will feature over a dozen Bay Area artists, including icons like E-40 and Too $hort. It’s the latest project from GSE, which formed in 2022 with EMPIRE as its distribution partner and has released music by K-pop act BamBam and Oakland artist MAYZIN.
EMPIRE founder and CEO Ghazi and his company “have global reach but have maintained deep roots in and genuine love for the Bay,” says David Kelly, chief business officer for GSE and chief legal officer for the Warriors. “When Golden State Entertainment wanted to do something special in connection with NBA All-Star 2025 coming to the San Francisco Bay Area, it was only right that we linked up with P-Lo and release it via EMPIRE. The project is a celebration of Bay Area music and culture and a testament to the rich music scene that EMPIRE has helped create in and for the Bay.”
It’s also part of a suite of projects that EMPIRE is spearheading ahead of All-Star Week, including several parties in the area and a collaboration with NBA 2K for a limited-edition vinyl package featuring EMPIRE artists, on which “Player’s Holiday ’25” is also featured.
“Growing up a Warriors fan and going to the games all my life,” P-Lo says, “just to be able to work with a company that really is like one of the better franchises in all of sports, to be able to do something like this with them, is a dream come true.”
This story appears in the Feb. 8, 2025, issue of Billboard.