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In their much-cited 2023 paper “Glocalisation of Music Streaming within and across Europe,” Will Page and Chris Dalla Riva note that the rise of global streaming platforms correlates with the strengthening of local music.
This seemingly contradictory state is what the authors refer to as “glocalisation” — or “glocalization” in the American spelling. And in Latin music, that phenomenon has led to a spike in local genres like corridos, banda, funk and Argentine rap in recent years.
According to Pedro Kurtz — Deezer’s head of music for LATAM, speaking on a SXSW panel titled “Latin Music Momentum In The Age of ‘Glocalization’” on Tuesday (Mar. 12) — it’s about relatability.
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“We listen to music that we relate to, that represents us culturally. You look at artists and they’re speaking my language, and everything moves from there.”
Kurtz appeared on the panel alongside Cris Garcia Falcão, MD of label and artist strategy/GM of Latin at Virgin Music, and Sandra Jimenez, head of music in Latin America at YouTube — and the conversation (which I moderated) often turned lively between the three Brazilian executives.
Their points of view not only highlighted the glocalization phenomenon and how democratization and streaming dramatically changed Latin music, but also the similarities and differences between the Brazilian and Latin American markets, which many tend to lump together — even though they’re vastly different.
Although Brazil is an enormous and powerful market, the music is in Portuguese, and there is still a language barrier that must be broken down in order to break through internationally; even Brazilian megastar Anitta had to sing in Spanish to get noticed.
But, notes Jimenez, “There is no language barrier for Spanish. It’s almost like one big country. It’s a region with more than 300 million people. It’s a huge region.”
Its sheer size has given the region clout.
On YouTube, Latin America is “one of the top three regions in the world in terms of music consumption,” said Jimenez. For Deezer, added Kurtz, “It’s the second most important region in terms of streaming and engagement.”
And the vast majority of the content consumed on streaming platforms in Latin America is local.
For example, Falcão said that before the pandemic, “It was more about Anglo content. Now, it’s more democratic. Everyone should understand our region and our culture and adapt.”
Those who do, win. In Brazil, more than 80% of music consumption is local. In Mexico, says Kurtz, “72% of our streaming comes from local artists. It’s a big number, and local branches are getting more autonomy. Back in the day, we had other forces pushing music.”
Beyond the numbers, there are other intangibles. The Latin diaspora globally has led to music in Spanish, in particular, being consumed all around the world — and that phenomenon was accentuated during the pandemic. “It made us more internal,” said Jimenez. “It wasn’t possible to meet with friends and family, so we created community.”
As Latin music consumption has increased, so has music creation and investment in the region. Kurtz says that starting in 2020, Deezer has seen its number of weekly pitches in the region almost double — reflecting an increased interest in making music.
“It’s about people valuing their own cultures, and the charts are basically a mirror of that,” he said.
PartyNextDoor’s anticipated performance at the Moody Amphitheater at Waterloo Park on Thursday, March 14 was the perfect kick-off to Billboard’s annual THE STAGE at SXSW concert series. During Party’s one-hour set, he not only delivered hits including “Break from Toronto” and “Come and See Me” (feat. Drake), but elevated them to new heights with a […]
As fans at the off-site parking lot board a shuttle that will take them to their final destination — Willie Nelson’s coveted Luck Reunion — Noah Kahan’s “All My Love” plays from the bus’ speakers, setting a rallying and welcoming tone for the long day ahead. Celebrating its 12th year, the Luck Reunion offers a […]
On Wednesday (March 13), French electronic music duo Justice flew into Austin, Texas, from Paris for a rare appearance at SXSW. The duo participated in a featured session simply called Justice: In Conversation, moderated by Billboard’s Katie Bain. While the pair discussed their lasting legacy, which dates back to the 2007 debut album Cross, they […]
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A new documentary series taking viewers inside the notable Magic City gentlemen’s club produced by Drake and Jermaine Dupri debuted at SXSW to rave reviews.
If you mention Magic City to anyone in and out of Atlanta, Georgia, you’re bound to get an approving response. The well-known strip club is the focus of a new documentary series, Magic City: An American Fantasy, which has Hip-Hop icon Jermaine Dupri and superstar Drake as producers. However, it is not currently attached to any distributor or platform. The series made its debut at the South By Southwest Festival Monday (March 11), with director Charles Todd and producer Cole Brown on hand to field questions from the audience along with fellow producer Jami Gertz after the first episode was screened at the Zach Theatre in Austin, Texas.
On the red carpet, Todd spoke of the influence that the strip club has. “Magic City is a purveyor of culture, and its an A&R – all the biggest hits that you hear on the radio, if it doesn’t break at Magic City, it doesn’t break, period.” Brown also spoke about the fine line everyone walked in bringing the series to the screen. “We wanted to walk a fine line with nudity, in particular — where you can’t make a documentary about a strip club and not have any nudity, it just isn’t true to form — and you’re trying to tell the true story,” he said. “At the same time, we didn’t want it to be salacious, gratuitous. We wanted to use it in such a way that you’re getting an image of what this place is. But if you go to Magic City, you see all the anatomy.”
That was underscored by Gigi McGuire, a former dancer at Magic City who appeared at the premiere and appears nude in the series. “I understood the vision of the artistic value of what they were trying to achieve, and I had no problem with agreeing to show these titties,” she told the audience, adding: “Strip is art, and the art is being celebrated, clearly.” In addition to Drake, the series also features appearances by Big Boi, Shaquille O’Neal, T.I., Killer Mike and Nelly.
On June 29, 2012, Nick Miller regained consciousness in a Boulder, Colo., hospital room. The day before, he’d overdosed on heroin, the final act of a 10-day drug binge. Coming to, he saw his mother and the sadness in her eyes. He was 21 years old and had been sober for 15 months after time in rehab and years of opiate addiction. He’d been doing so well.
But his mom had known something was off after her son had gone quiet over text and phone. She called a friend of his, insisting they go check on him while she packed a bag and booked the next flight to Denver. The friend found Miller unresponsive, thrust naloxone — the opioid overdose reversal medication — up his nose and dialed 911. If not for his mom’s sense that something was wrong, it’s unlikely that I’d be here in Miller’s house on this chilly February afternoon in Los Angeles to talk with him about his incredible success as electronic producer Illenium. It’s unlikely he’d be here at all.
Sitting in the cave-like home studio within his large and otherwise light-filled house, Miller, 33, dotes on his dogs — the regal Belgian Malinois Grace and a small but fierce blonde dachshund whose dedicated Instagram account has 23,000 followers and for whom the house’s Wi-Fi network, “Palace du Peanut,” is named — holding them in arms covered in sacred geometry and Eye of Sauron tattoos. He makes jokes and direct eye contact, speaks in ski-bum parlance (“fire,” “sick,” “chillin’ ”), endearingly giggles and generally comes off as a person worth rooting for.
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I ask Miller what he’d say to that hospital room version of himself, given everything that has happened since. His answer is immediate: “There’s no way I would have even believed the possibilities.”
Illenium plays Billboard Presents THE STAGE at SXSW on March 16. Get your tickets here.
As Illenium, Miller is one of the most successful electronic acts of the last half-decade, a dance music star in the fireworks and confetti tradition, but with a harder and more rock-oriented sound and sensibility than straightforward main-stage EDM. In a genre known more for talent-heavy festival bills than solo-show hard ticket sales, he’s one of only a handful of artists, like ODESZA and Kaskade, playing venues as massive as stadiums and arenas.
Still, it’s possible you’ve never heard of him. Illenium hasn’t yet had a solo crossover hit (“Takeaway,” his 2019 collaboration with The Chainsmokers and Lennon Stella, hit No. 69 on the Billboard Hot 100 and remains his highest-ranking single on the chart), and unlike some world-famous DJs, he doesn’t frequent fashion shows, post shirtless selfies or chase fame.
He calls himself “very much a homebody,” one who most enjoys staying in and working on music, playing video games and hanging out with his dogs and his wife, Lara. The two met at a festival and married last September in Aspen, Colo., not too far from their primary residence, a 23,000-square-foot estate in the Denver suburb of Cherry Hills. Miller says he only bought the L.A. house in 2021 because “I was spending so much money on hotels and studio spaces here that it made more financial sense.” He has left twice in the last six days, once for a meeting and the other time to play the second of his back-to-back headlining shows at SoFi Stadium.
Louis Vuitton shirt and Askyurself sweater.
Daniel Prakopcyk
These Trilogy performances — so named because they feature three separate Illenium sets over five hours — are the current crown jewel of the Illenium empire. Prior to the Feb. 2 and 3 shows in L.A. (where his team says fans bought $2 million in merchandise alone), last June’s Trilogy concert at Denver’s Mile High stadium grossed $3.9 million and sold 47,000 tickets. It happened amid a 26-date North American tour that sold 191,000 tickets and grossed $15.7 million, according to Billboard Boxscore. His fourth studio album, 2021’s Fallen Embers, earned a Grammy Award nomination for best dance/electronic album, an accomplishment that came months after the debut Trilogy show at Las Vegas’ Allegiant Stadium helped break the pandemic’s pause on live music.
With nearly 33,000 attendees, the July 3, 2021, performance, according to Boxscore, broke the record for the biggest dance music event for a single headliner in U.S. history. At the end of it, Miller told the roaring crowd that for him Trilogy represents “my transition from a f–king sh–ty life. That was my past. So it’s just f–king crazy, this. What the f–k? This is a f–king football stadium.”
Performing from a cryo-spitting tower of LEDs on the 50-yard line was not on Miller’s radar when he started releasing music in 2014. His work helped form the then-emerging future bass subgenre, which, like the bass music that influenced it, is huge and often heavy but also simultaneously soft — like getting hit in the head with a two-by-four wrapped in velvet. Future bass also incorporates more traditional verse/chorus song structures than much of the wilder bass made by Illenium’s influences and peers — Zeds Dead, Excision, SLANDER, Dabin, Said the Sky, Space Laces — and his work also heavily integrates rock, metal, indie and pop sounds. The Illenium oeuvre, developed over his five studio albums, is cinematic, anthemic, often heavy and typically lyrically personal music that mulls deeper themes — love, heartbreak, rage — than standard dance refrains about putting your f–king hands up.
“I’m sensitive,” Miller says, and “for sure” an emotional person. For him, writing music is a form of escape, release and healing, and he thinks listeners can feel the depths he’s pulling from: “A fan who’s going through something — when they listen to something personal, it just bonds in a different way.”
Des Pierrot vest, Jack John Jr. pants, Louis Vuitton shoes.
Daniel Prakopcyk
This bond is a key reason why fans not only love Illenium’s music, but often have devotional relationships with it. The audiences at his shows party and headbang — but there’s also a lot more crying at an Illenium concert than at most electronic sets.
His fusion of bass with traditional song structures has also fueled his broad appeal. UTA’s Guy Oldaker, his longtime agent, came up in the bass scene of Colorado — the genre’s spiritual U.S. home and a huge dance hub, with Denver effectively tied with Miami as the United States’ highest-indexing major market for electronic music streaming, according to Luminate. But Oldaker hadn’t figured out how to cross these artists over into major festivals and Las Vegas residencies, where he says crowds usually want “easily accessible pop music.”
When a promoter sent Oldaker demos by a local producer named Illenium in 2014, “I went, ‘Holy crap, this is exactly what I think will work with this audience in Vegas,’ ” Oldaker recalls. “I know very well how to build an artist in the scene where I’ve built everything else. I knew if I could connect the dots, we’d have a winner.”
Now, after the pandemic deflated his team’s plans for international expansion, Illenium is poised for the kind of global ubiquity Oldaker has long believed he could achieve — that is, if that’s even what he wants. “I go back-and-forth on if I’d rather be a famous world star DJ,” Miller says bluntly, “or just like, kind of be chillin’.”
When Oldaker first met him, Miller was sober — and also deep in the bass scene. He handed out show flyers as an intern for local promoter Global Dance, wrote for electronic music blogs, frequented Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Morrison and Aspen’s Belly Up Tavern and fell in love with the music and community he had found. He’d returned to rehab following his overdose and, afterward, started teaching himself music: playing piano, watching YouTube tutorials on music theory and making “like, ‘Wonderwall’ remixes and random crap, just to figure it out.”
Soon, the music blog dubstep.net voted one of his tracks the No. 1 song of the moment. “I was like, ‘Let’s f–king go,’ ” he recalls. He’d also started performing around Denver and in 2015 signed with Oldaker (then at Madison House Presents), who sent Illenium (his name references Star Wars’ Millenium Falcon) on the road as a support act for artists like Big Gigantic and Minnesota. After a show at the 500-capacity George’s Majestic Lounge in Fayetteville, Ark., attendees bought out the venue for a second night so Illenium could play again. “And that sold out,” Oldaker says. “These were small-market shows by someone no one had ever heard of who was getting 250 bucks to open for another artist, and all of a sudden he’s blowing out some room in Arkansas.”
Miller and his team — which by this time included manager Ha Hau (also the founder of Global Dance) and touring manager Sean Flynn, whom he’d met in recovery — started putting up headline shows at smaller clubs. They decided he needed a signature “thing” and that it would be, Oldaker says, “putting so much production into these rooms that people walked out like, ‘I don’t know what I just saw.’ ”
For a 2015 set at Denver’s 650-capacity Bluebird Theater, Miller spent $10,000 on a custom metal phoenix, a symbol of his rise from addiction that has also appeared on his album covers and on the Illenium jerseys that are the de facto fan uniform at his shows. “On most of my tours, I’ve gone as far as I could with production by breaking even, or just slightly above,” he says. Flynn declines to give an exact price tag for Trilogy’s production, but says the shows are “really expensive.” They weren’t sure if they’d even turn a profit with the SoFi sets, but then “the second show crushed,” Miller says. “So we were chillin’.”
Daniel Prakopcyk
Streams, ticket sales and festival billings grew steadily as his profile rose, and his second album, 2017’s Awake, reached No. 106 on the Billboard 200. But Miller felt a disconnect. Fans didn’t know about the personal experiences making his songs so emotionally intense, a chasm that felt especially wide when they told him his music had helped them through hard times, like dealing with addiction.
“I’ve been wanting to share something super personal with you for a while,” Miller wrote in a letter posted to X (then Twitter) in August 2018, revealing his struggles with opiates and his overdose. “I was trapped in it, had no passion, no direction and truly hated myself… I’m just sharing my story and relating because music saved my life too.” The news came in tandem with the release of “Take You Down,” a huge, hypnotic song he wrote about his mother. “I couldn’t see that when I went to hell,” vocalist Tim James sings, “I was taking you with me.”
“Watching that relationship get torn by the sh-t you keep doing — at first, it’s like, ‘Why are you on me so much, I’m not even that bad,’ ” Miller reflects now. “Then it goes into ‘OK, I can’t stop’ and then it goes into, like, “F–k everyone. I can’t live without it.’ And then you’re just breaking down.”
Making this information public initially made him nervous “because I didn’t want to come off preachy. I love rave culture and people enjoying themselves and don’t want to be the person that’s like” — he shifts to a nerdy tone — “ ‘You guys are really f–king your lives up.’ ” But six years later, he thinks his fans appreciate knowing, “given all the music that has come out of it and that I did all of this sober.”
LEMAIRE jacket and Louis Vuitton shirt, pants and shoes.
Daniel Prakopcyk
In a realm not known for temperance, Miller says that Kaskade — one of the few sober dance artists — has been a role model who has shown him “you can do this and not be a party animal, because it’s hard. You see how insane people go and wonder if you’ll be accepted if you’re not partaking.”
But Miller is also uniquely suited to talk to fans about drugs. Last year, he partnered with L.A.-based nonprofit End Overdose, which distributes free naloxone and fentanyl test strips, provides training on how to respond to overdoses and is a partner of major dance music promoter Insomniac Events. He raised $50,000 for the organization through a fan donation matching campaign, became a certified End Overdose trainer, gave tutorials on administering naloxone on Instagram Live, provided trainings at stops on his last tour and gave contest winners an in-person demonstration at the Denver Trilogy show. Over 2,000 doses of naloxone have been distributed across these events; last September, one was used to resuscitate someone at a concert (not Illenium’s) in Kansas City, Mo. “We’ve literally saved lives together,” End Overdose communications officer Mike Giegerich says. “It’s beyond meaningful.”
Meanwhile, Miller has rather cleverly figured out a healthy (and productive) way to satisfy his own addictive impulses. “To have five hours to shape the night and do it all?” he says of the Trilogy shows. “That’s like, my psycho drug addictness. That sounds very fulfilling and, like, a sweet high for me.”
The five-hour Trilogy shows have also given Miller time to explore the direction he’ll pursue next. After his rock- and metal-focused 2023-self-titled album, which featured artists like Travis Barker and Avril Lavigne, the Trilogy sets inspired him to return to his electronic roots, and he’s working on “a lot” of new music. Collaborations with Tiësto (a Colorado neighbor Miller calls “the f–king man”), REZZ, Seven Lions, Mike Shinoda and others he’s not yet ready to name are forthcoming — not as an album, but as singles to be released throughout 2024.
Outside of scattered festival dates, he’s not touring this year, but Oldaker says, “World domination is where I think we go from here.” Flynn says the team “had a lot of steam” in Europe and Asia before the pandemic, and it’s now positioned to rebuild that momentum. American-style bass music has historically “had a hard time getting good traction” in Europe, Oldaker says, but he fervently believes Illenium could be the one to break it.
Miller’s own feelings are more mixed. He points out that his seven-date European tour last summer hit 2,000- to 3,000-capacity rooms and turned out “fire” crowds in cities like Brussels and Barcelona. He also acknowledges that the more minimal, less headbang-y European scene is “just so different,” Miller continues, “and I never bought into it. I’m not a partier. I like being home, and I don’t play that game of ‘meet this promoter so you can play their festival or club.’ I’m so not that person, and I think that has hurt me a bit in Europe.”
Still, he’d love to bring the full show abroad. He has growing fan bases in Asia (he did his first headlining show in India in February) and Australia, and his team is also eyeing expansion into Africa and Central and South America.
Meanwhile, North American demand hasn’t abated for the artist Oldaker calls “the underground monster you’ve never heard of who all of a sudden blows your mind.” Several stadiums have reached out about hosting a Trilogy show, and fans can see Illenium through September at his residency at the 2,100-capacity Zouk in Las Vegas, a club the team chose for its production capabilities. Having played Vegas since his days as an opener, Miller has learned “the game” of these shows: “taking yourself less seriously, just having fun and not trying to have a musical therapy session in a f–king Vegas club.”
Daniel Prakopcyk
While there are many goals still to reach — a crossover hit (his official remix of Taylor Swift’s “Anti-Hero” toed the line), major mainstream festival headlining slots, movie scores and, Oldaker says, “expanding what he’s doing so people understand he isn’t just a bass producer and can do all these other things” — the imminent strategy is simple: keep building “core events,” Oldaker says, like Trilogy and Illenium’s Ember Shores destination festival in Mexico, which held its second edition in December. “Yes, we want to headline all the major festivals, but we have a great thing going with Trilogy where we can create these incredible experiences for fans to come be a part of,” Oldaker explains. “We’ll continue building it and hope these bigger festivals see the value we’re creating.”
“There is no ceiling to cap the success that he is capable of,” adds Tom Corson, co-chairman/COO of Warner Records, which released Illenium. “Nick is a career artist who can be as big as he wants to be both within dance music and outside of the genre.”
While now in a period of relative downtime, the guy whose lexicon heavily favors “chillin’ ” doesn’t, actually, want to be entirely chill. His Colorado rhythm is to drink coffee, run the dogs, tend to Illenium business — a straightforward model of “merch and music and shows,” he says — then hit his home studio. He’s also remodeling a Denver warehouse into a recording space for himself and other artists, some of whom will likely appear on the label he’s putting together. When he’s really not working, he golfs, snowmobiles or hangs with his parents, sisters, nieces and nephews who, Oldaker says, “are always around him.”
“They’re so happy, full of joy,” Miller says of his family’s take on his achievements. “We have a beautiful life now.”
That family isn’t just his direct relations anymore, but the tens of thousands of screaming fans who love him — not only as an artist, but as a survivor: the kid in the hospital bed who was about to get up and make it all happen.
This story originally appeared in the March 9, 2024, issue of Billboard.
On June 29, 2012, Nick Miller regained consciousness in a Boulder, Colo., hospital room. The day before, he’d overdosed on heroin, the final act of a 10-day drug binge. Coming to, he saw his mother and the sadness in her eyes. He was 21 years old and had been sober for 15 months after time in […]
The SXSW festival issued a statement on Tuesday morning (March 12) about a deadly incident that took place earlier in the day in downtown Austin on the first night of this year’s annual gathering of bands and music industry folks. “We are deeply saddened to learn of the passing of an individual in downtown Austin […]
It’s the tattoos that really make Christian Nodal stick out like a sore thumb. With his inked-up body — and face — he looks more like a rapper or rock star than the exploding regional Mexican artist he is.
“I didn’t want to be anyone’s shadow,” Nodal declares. “I felt that the genre was stigmatized under all these stereotypes, and I wanted to break all of that because I was unsatisfied to see that our genre wasn’t going far enough.”
Since launching his career in 2017, Nodal, now 25, has made a name for himself (sometimes with sharp elbows) as a maverick in a genre long bound by tradition. From the time he started at age 18, he has revolutionized regional Mexican music by pioneering mariacheño, a subgenre fusing mariachi’s strings and horns with the norteño accordion.
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“I didn’t want to disrespect anyone, much less the mentality of some of these [regional Mexican] legends who think the genre should sound and look a very specific way,” he explains. “But that wasn’t me. I didn’t feel part of it. I wanted to make it my own.”
Christian Nodal plays Billboard Presents THE STAGE at SXSW on March 15. Get your tickets here.
When we meet in mid-December at Lienzo Zermeño — where charreadas, or Mexican rodeos, take place in the middle of Jalisco’s bustling city of Guadalajara — Nodal beams with pride as he recounts the arc he has followed to become one of Latin music’s biggest stars in a few short years. He may look like a malote (bad guy) — he jokes about the role he would probably get cast for in a movie because of his tattoos — but he’s far from it, offering friendly hellos to the ranch’s workers and flashing a shy smile to the bystanders who recognize him but are too timid to introduce themselves.
Nodal’s entry into the regional Mexican world was a bit less genteel. When he started his career, the music’s leaders were purists who leaned heavily on the traditional sound that had worked for them — and for the genre that has been around for more than a century. That left little room for experimentation, and some in the industry initially balked at Nodal’s unorthodox approach. “I think the first year they saw me as the new kid, but by my second year, I don’t think they liked that I was still around. I saw a face of the regional Mexican that was quite raw, real and ugly,” Nodal says. “I was disappointed and thought, ‘OK, we probably won’t be creating a bond, much less collaborating. Fine. I’m going this way and [making] regional music bigger.’ ”
To that end, Nodal has collaborated with artists well beyond regional Mexican, including Romeo Santos, Kany García, David Bisbal, Sebastián Yatra and Maná — but without sacrificing his mariacheño style. (His few collaborations with regional acts include Alejandro Fernández, Banda MS and Ángela Aguilar.) He has also sought out new songwriting voices, including the Grammy Award-nominated Edgar Barrera, who co-wrote some of Nodal’s biggest hits.
That willingness to challenge genre norms propelled the mariacheño singer — whose urban cowboy aesthetic incorporates leather vests, diamond necklaces, statement earrings and heavy rings on his fingers — to a remarkable year both professionally and personally in 2023. In December, he wrapped his Foraji2 Tour, a 31-date arena run produced by Cárdenas Marketing Network that kicked off in August and followed his 22-date 2022 Forajido tour. He won his sixth Latin Grammy Award (best ranchero/mariachi album) for Forajido EP2, and he scored his 15th No. 1 on the Regional Mexican Airplay chart — a record for a solo artist since the list launched in 1994 — with that set’s “Un Cumbión Dolido.” And he became a father when he and his partner, Argentine rapper-singer Cazzu, welcomed a baby girl in September.
“I remember those times when I would come down from the stage and feel alone,” says Nodal, who now lives in Argentina with Cazzu and their daughter. “Now I come down to a stroller with my baby in it, and it all seems perfect. She has already been on tour with us, and I thought it would be hard, but she’s a rock star,” he says, getting choked up. “When she was born, I was feeling exhausted. I don’t know how I managed to change diapers, but she gives me energy, motivation and strength.”
Dolce & Gabbana shirt, Chrome Hearts vest, belt and jewelry, and Braggao and John Varvatos jewelry.
Lisette Poole
A lot has changed — not just in his personal life, but in the broader Latin music landscape — since Nodal released his first single, the achingly beautiful “Adiós Amor,” in 2017. Powered by wailing trumpets, a stirring accordion and Nodal’s strikingly mature and evocative baritone, the song quickly established him as one of the great vocalists in the genre. It earned him his first Regional Mexican Airplay No. 1 and spent seven weeks atop the chart. “When working with Christian, these two things are always present: He’s like an artist from another planet when making music, and [he sings] it in a spectacular way,” says Afo Verde, chairman/CEO of Sony Music Latin-Iberia, which signed Nodal in early 2022.
Now, thanks to the doors Nodal has opened in just a few short years and the sound he pioneered, regional Mexican is dominating the Latin charts, and a new crop of artists — who sing corridos tumbados, tumbados románticos, sad sierreño, or whatever the latest iteration of the genre is, and are keen to collaborate — has taken the lead, helping globalize the music that, while a backbone of Latin, was long considered meant for a niche audience. But none of those performers have dominated quite like Nodal — and he has done it on his own terms.
“Everything can coexist,” he says. “I enjoy fusing sounds, but I don’t run toward something just because it’s working [for others]. I’m very careful not to deviate from my purpose. I still need to feel proud of what I do.”
Born in Sonora, a northern Mexican state that borders Arizona, and later raised in Guadalajara and Ensenada, Baja California, Nodal grew up in a musical household, listening to pop, rock, rap, bachata and more. But he also developed a great respect for regional Mexican — it “practically fed us,” he says — from an early age. He loved to watch his grandfather play the trumpet: “I think before I wanted to be a singer, my goal was to be a trumpeter like Arturo Sandoval.” His father and manager, Jaime González, who has also played the instrument since childhood, is an industry veteran who managed late sierreño singer Ariel Camacho, a major inspiration to Nodal. Today, González’s record label/management company JG Music includes Nodal, Los Plebes del Rancho de Ariel Camacho and Los Elementos de Culiacán. González met Nodal’s mother, Cristy Nodal, while they were in the same musical group, in which she sang lead.
“We’ve been musicians all our lives,” González says. “From a very young age we instilled music in all our children, but more as a hobby or tool to help them with their emotions. Not so much as a business, because we have been doing this for a long time and it is not easy.” But Nodal wanted to sing, so his mother, a longtime mariachi singer, taught him. “They were committed,” González remembers. “At first, I didn’t want to get on board because I didn’t have the time and I didn’t want this complicated career for him because he’s very sensitive. But when I would come back from tours with Ariel, Christian and his mom had several songs already written, and I said, ‘OK, fine. I’ll produce an album for you.’ ”
AMIRI shirt, Alessandro Vasini jeans, Chrome Hearts, and Braggao and John Varvatos jewelry.
Lisette Poole
That first unofficial album included a cover of “Adiós Amor,” a song previously recorded by Los Dareyes de la Sierra. His mother wanted him to record it in mariachi style, but “I really thought of mariachi as music for older men,” Nodal says. He honored her wish, but at Nodal’s request, his father added the norteño accordion — to represent his “esencia sonorense” (Sonora essence) — along with banda-style trumpets and subtle violins.
“People responded really well to it on social media,” González remembers. “It’s as if the world had been waiting for Nodal.”
When “Adiós Amor” went viral, Nodal’s team comprised Cristy, then his de facto manager, and González, who was his producer. “I remember I would see cars pass by [in Ensenada] blasting the cover I had uploaded to Facebook,” he says, laughing. But then he noticed a problem: No one knew he was the one singing the song. “I think people expected it to be an older man, and it was funny when I would be at clubs in Guadalajara and they’d play my song and I would be like, ‘Hey, that’s me,’ ” he says. “They could identify the song but not the face, and I wanted that to change. It was something that kept me up at night.”
Nodal needed support — and it came by way of Universal Music Latino/Fonovisa, which signed him in 2017 after “Adiós Amor” caught the labels’ attention. By that August, he had released his official debut album, Me Dejé Llevar, which peaked at No. 2 on Billboard’s Top Latin Albums list, his highest ranking on that chart. But after releasing two more studio albums between 2019 and 2021 under Universal, a feud with the label turned public when Nodal took to Instagram Live to reveal he would not be renewing his contract; shortly after, in early 2022, Nodal signed with Sony Music Latin in a partnership with Sony Music Mexico. “When you’re young and you don’t know about these things, you do what you have to do to achieve your dreams,” says Nodal, who won’t share much more about the conflict. “If nothing goes wrong in your life, then you don’t learn.”
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When Nodal met for the first time with Verde and his Sony colleagues Alex Gallardo (president of Sony Music U.S. Latin) and Roberto López (president of Sony Music Mexico), he made his expectations clear. “I told them that I want to have the freedom to work with any artist from any label, that I want freedom to decide when I’m going to release my albums and that I want to own my albums after a certain amount of time,” he recalls. “Afo, Alex and Roberto are people that I love very much, and they have shown me the good side of the industry. They are putting their life, their faith, their effort into the growth of an artist.”
“What helped us to build trust with Christian and a great team was that from the beginning we had great chemistry,” Gallardo says. “We knew how to listen to his needs and concerns, and we worked to provide him with as much support as possible and put at his disposal a team that would work for him and help him achieve his goals.”
For Sony, Nodal was a valuable roster addition — an “ambassador of Mexican music to the world … responsible for spreading the love for Mexican music to new generations in many countries,” as López puts it. He was also already an established star. His 2022 Forajido tour grossed $14.5 million and sold 147,000 tickets from 22 shows, according to Billboard Boxscore, and in 2023, he grossed $21.6 million and sold 259,000 tickets. Under Sony’s supervision, his star has only continued to rise. Nodal’s albums have earned a combined 2.2 million equivalent album units, according to Luminate, and he has 3.2 billion on-demand official streams in the United States. He has also placed 20 entries on Hot Latin Songs; five of them hit the top 10, including the No. 3 debut and peak of “Botella Tras Botella,” with Mexican rapper Gera MX in 2021. The pair’s norteño-tinged, hip-hop-infused track became the first regional Mexican song to enter the Billboard Hot 100 in the chart’s then 63-year history. (Today, more than 30 songs have reached the chart.)
“Christian was more ready for this moment than I was,” Gera MX says. “When we saw the song was blowing up, we called each other constantly. I asked him if this was normal, and he told me, ‘Guey, esto es único. [Dude, this is unique.]’ It had never happened before, much less with a mix of urban and regional. It was like riding the highest roller coaster of my life with one of my best friends.” They recorded the song at one of their carne asadas (cookouts) during the pandemic, when both were living in the same residential community in Guadalajara; Nodal would bike over to Gera MX’s house. “When we first met, I was surprised at how much he knew about rap,” Gera MX says. “He is an artist in constant evolution.”
Lisette Poole
González had been more skeptical of the collaboration. “He was like, ‘No, how are you going to do that? People are going to get angry,’ ” Nodal recalls. “And I told him, ‘Listen to me: This is what we’re going to start seeing in the genre.’ ”
Nodal followed his hunch — after all, it wasn’t the first time he and his father had disagreed. “If I’ve been doing this for six or seven years, it probably took us five to create a healthy relationship between us,” Nodal says. “I would go one way, and he would go another way. I didn’t want to do what he wanted me to do. I wanted to be me. It took many years to fully understand and respect each other, and it had nothing to do with our father-son relationship. Now we are completely aligned when it comes to the business of my career.”
In October, Nodal asked friends back in Guadalajara to get him three string instruments: a tololoche, a docerola and a requinto. “It got in my head that I wanted to do a corrido tumbado,” Nodal says in early February. “I fell in love with the genre. The good thing is that my neighbors in Guadalajara didn’t complain, because the tololoche is a very noisy instrument and my apartment is not very big.” After hearing the demo, Nodal thought Peso Pluma would be a great addition. So, over FaceTime, he asked the corridos singer to meet up — which they did at one of Peso’s Anaheim, Calif., concerts in December, where they agreed to collaborate. “Hassan [Peso’s real name] has a respect for me and my career, and we had great conversations.” Nodal says. “The chemistry was there.”
The resulting team-up, “La Intención,” is both a sign of the times — younger regional Mexican artists now understand that working together only strengthens the genre — and of what has given Nodal’s own career longevity. His adaptability has not only allowed him to move among styles (like pop, cumbia and urban) with ease, but also to transcend generations and remain a constant in an ever-expanding genre that in the years since his career began has become a global movement. “When I started this career I felt a big responsibility, and I still feel it today,” he says. “Not everyone agreed with everything I did early on, but now I feel that my career is projected onto the musical criteria of young artists who dare to do things differently without being afraid.”
At 25 years old, he may be the relative elder statesman of the new (and very young) generation of regional Mexican artists, but Nodal is just as fired up as when he started. “A lot of the dreams I had, I already accomplished, but I’m enjoying whatever comes. I don’t worry about the person I have to be in the genre; the most beautiful thing is to flow with what is happening because the genre will always be there. I’ll just keep releasing music from my heart [and] enjoy the process and what my fans have given me.”
Lisette Poole
Nodal is on a monthslong break through May, which, for him, feels like uncharted territory: He hasn’t taken any real time off since his career started seven years ago. “COVID didn’t count as a vacation, right?” he jokes. “I don’t know myself in vacation mode,” he adds with a nervous chuckle, as if coming to the realization as he says it out loud.
Today, “vacation mode” Nodal sounds blissful yet invigorated. Later this year, he says he’ll release Pa’l Cora, the album of his dreams, which will include a recording session in France with his mariacheño band in tow. The making of it, along with planning and embarking on a tour with stops in countries like the United Kingdom and Switzerland — a major milestone for an artist in a genre that typically doesn’t book European shows outside of Spain — will be captured in a behind-the-scenes documentary.
These shows, and this album, were for a long time simply dreams for Nodal. “I was constantly pressured to keep moving,” he says. Now, from his home base in Argentina, he’s able to lead a more balanced life, one in which peace and moments of inspiration aren’t mutually exclusive. “I don’t think my life has changed because of where I live but because of how I am living my life,” he reflects, sounding wise beyond his 25 years. “I think this time away from being up and down, connecting with what I love has made me realize how lucky I am. I am at my best stage in every way, in all aspects. There is a light in my life that no one can take away.”
This story originally appeared in the March 9, 2024, issue of Billboard.
It’s the tattoos that really make Christian Nodal stick out like a sore thumb. With his inked-up body — and face — he looks more like a rapper or rock star than the exploding regional Mexican artist he is. “I didn’t want to be anyone’s shadow,” Nodal declares. “I felt that the genre was stigmatized […]