Venezuela
This fall, two months after Venezuela’s disputed presidential election plunged the country into crisis — with Nicolás Maduro claiming victory despite overwhelming evidence he’d lost — six of the country’s most influential figures convened in Miami for what some of them considered a historic conversation.
Despite the travel challenges posed by Hurricane Helene, Danny Ocean managed to arrive from Mexico, Elena Rose made it from Italy, and the rest — Nacho, Mau y Ricky and Lele Pons — met them at a studio in Coconut Grove.
All of these artists are part of a growing wave of Venezuelan musicians who are succeeding at levels perhaps not seen since the 1980s, when stars like Oscar D’Leon, “El Puma” José Luis Rodríguez or Ricardo Montaner had successful careers outside of their home country.
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This year, there are more than 20 Latin Grammy Award nominees from Venezuela — including Elena Rose, Danny Ocean and Mau y Ricky, with multiple nods each — and a greater presence of Venezuelans on the Billboard charts. But the artists who are here today have not only stood out globally with their music — or in Lele Pons’ case, as a social media content creator — but also use their voices to speak out about the political strife in their home country, a cause close to their hearts.
Until the July election, the concert business had been a rare bright spot for Venezuela’s economy: Luis Miguel and Karol G filled stadiums in Caracas with their spectacular tours in February and March, respectively, and there were others scheduled. But an artist like Nacho, who until recently lived part time in Venezuela, has not been able to sing in public in his country since 2016, presumably for criticizing the government.
In Miami, Mau y Ricky chat animatedly with Nacho, reminiscing about better times in Venezuela. Elena Rose and Lele Pons give each other a sisterly hug. A rugged Danny Ocean arrives straight from the airport and greets everyone with a wide smile.
At 41, Nacho is the oldest of the group by a decade. He paved the way for them as a Venezuelan musician — first as part of his popular duo with Chino Miranda and later with a successful solo career — and the respect they have for him is evident. “You made us understand that it is possible to make it when things are difficult,” Danny Ocean tells him about Chino y Nacho, who achieved international fame in 2010, when there were practically no singers coming out of Venezuela.
Unlike superstars from Mexico, Colombia or Puerto Rico, who started in their countries with the support of a local industry and then went international, all, with the exception of Nacho, have built their careers outside of Venezuela, having left as children or teenagers, as in the case of Mau y Ricky, Elena Rose and Lele Pons, or right before his first release, like Danny Ocean with “Me Rehúso,” the song that put him on the map in 2016, in which he already sang about pain of emigrating leaving behind a loved one.
Today, multinational record companies practically don’t have a presence in the country, and most local artists are independently produced. “There is no industry as such, really, with a solid base in Venezuela,” Elena Rose will later explain. Gone was the boom of the ’80s, when great talents like Yordano, Frank Quintero, Karina, Kiara and more flourished nationally with the support of labels like SonoRodven and Sonográfica, as well as a law that forced radio stations to play a song by a Venezuelan artist for every song by a non-native act.
At the time of this interview, two months have passed since the consequential presidential elections of July 28, when the Venezuelan electoral authority declared Maduro the winner with 51.2% of the votes (although it has not shown proper documentation that support the results) and the opposition denounced irregularities in the count and stated that its candidate, Edmundo González, had obtained almost 70% of the votes. The demonstrations that followed turned violent due to the repression of the Armed Forces and police, with dozens of deaths and more than 2,000 detained. An arrest warrant against González has led him to seek asylum in Spain, and opposition leader María Corina Machado has been forced to take shelter.
Today, this group has gathered to speak openly about the roles they play as musicians in the context of Venezuela’s politics and society. Just before starting, Elena Rose says, “We have not prayed today.” We all hold hands and Mau does the honors, finishing with gratitude: “Thank you for allowing us and giving us this platform to talk a little more about who we are and where we come from.”
From left: Mau Montaner, Ricky Montaner, Lele Pons, Danny Ocean, Elena Rose, Nacho and Sigal Ratner-Arias photographed on Sept. 26, 2024 at Grove Studio in Miami.
Ingrid Fajardo
Nacho, since you’ve been doing this the longest, what do you feel when you see this kind of renaissance of Venezuelan musicians?
Nacho: Pride. I feel very proud when I hear from everyone wherever I am in the world, because we Venezuelans have gone through many difficulties. But something that these difficulties have left is the fact that we all feel part of the same family. Like when we met this morning, right? We felt like we were cousins or family in some way. We use the same lexicon; we almost always have stories in common with Venezuela and we feel close.
What do you think has unleashed this new wave of talent?
Nacho: The desire, the drive, the disposition, the responsibility that characterizes us as Venezuelans. And of course, I suppose that social media has played an important role and has been sort of an escape door for us in the face of the difficulties that Venezuelan talents face to be able to export their music. Because there is a need for a lot of music industry culture in Venezuela, and I believe that talent cannot be covered with a finger. When I talk about Venezuelan talents, you realize that everyone plays an instrument, everyone writes, everyone has a lot to say through their songs.
That is something that has also caught my attention, how the lyrics of Venezuelan artists tend to be very deep. They say that art is often a response to sublimation and repression.
Elena Rose: I dare say that, in this particular group of people here, what stands out is sensitivity and humanity. I feel that if we were born again, we would choose things to happen in the same way that we have experienced them. But at the same time, I think it goes much further. I think that when we make music, we do it in such an intentional way, really, so from our soul, so wanting to leave something behind, that all the sacrifices we’ve made are worth it.
Elena Rose
Mary Beth Koeth
Danny Ocean: Yes, I think that we all write based on our angle and our perspectives of the things that we have all experienced. I think art is about that, about each person writing through their eyes and sensations. I make music because I love music, I need to write.
Everyone here has publicly expressed their frustration and feelings about what a long list of organizations and governments have pointed out as electoral fraud in Venezuela, and the repression that followed the elections. Most of the comments on your social media are positive, but some have written that artists should dedicate themselves to being artists and not get involved in politics. Do you feel that artists have a duty to speak out?
Lele Pons: If it’s not us pushing people, who is going to do it? Because many times people are afraid, and because we do it or people you admire do it — if you admire Elena or Danny or Nacho and they do it and they speak for you, it also pushes you to speak. That is our power, communication, so that everyone knows what is happening, not just us [Venezuelans].
Mau: Beyond me thinking that it can generate a change or not, for me the important thing is that people … feel that Ricky and I have their backs and that we are with them. Many times, when you are going through something, what you need, beyond a voice, [is] people to hold on to so you can say, “I’m not in this alone.”
Mau Montaner
Mary Beth Koeth
Lele, you also used your enormous social media platform for an Instagram Live with Venezuelan opposition leader María Corina Machado for which Maduro later mentioned you in a speech. What did you think when all this happened?
Lele Pons: Well, I think it’s the most important thing I’ve done in my career. Because being an influencer is helping. It’s a way to be a leader. And if I can help another leader to talk to people who don’t know what is happening, because I have an audience that [is not all Venezuelans] … When I made a video [about the situation in Venezuela], I did it in Italian, I did it in English and I did it in Spanish so that everyone knows what’s happening, so that they can share, repost and use my platform, so that [María Corina Machado] would have a voice. I listen and I see what people are saying, what they tell me: “Please help me. This is going on.” And I go, “Jeez! I’m here, what can I do?” I use everything I have to help, so that people know and the world knows too.
Danny, Nacho, after the July 28 elections, you two called on the Armed Forces and police to avoid the use of violence against demonstrators. Nacho, you even said, “I promised my family, for everyone’s safety, that I would not do this again, but I can’t see what is going on in the country and stay silent.” Have you feared for your life while in Venezuela?
Nacho: The truth is, no, but not because something bad can’t happen, but because for some reason — I don’t know if it’s because I’ve had a closer encounter with God — death is something that doesn’t mortify me as much … But definitely there are people around you who may tell you, “The actions you have taken have had an impact on my stability, on my tranquility, on my integrity.” Then you start to feel guilty, because these are people that you love, that you have around. Or “Look, they took my job away because they found out I’m your cousin.” Or “They don’t want to do anything with me anymore because they know I’m your friend.” Or “They shut down my business because they saw me in a photo with you or hanging out with you.” So, more than fearing for myself, those were actually the repercussions that worried me when it came to expressing myself. But there are bigger purposes than that.
Danny Ocean
Mary Beth Koeth
Danny, you released an EP dedicated to Venezuela days before the elections, venequia., and you called on your fans who had relatives in the Armed Forces or the police to talk to them to make them see reason to avoid the use of violence. What is your message to them today?
Danny Ocean: For me, the issue of Venezuela stopped being political a long time ago. For me, it is already a humanitarian issue. We are surely in the top three countries with the most displaced people in the world … We have [almost 8] million people who have had to leave our country, leave everything, leave a life to look for a better future, and that is not right. So, why did I do venequia.? Because … eight years after having to leave Venezuela, I am still seeing the numbers [of emigrants] increasing and saying, “But nothing is happening.” And the video I made calling the families of the military, because it’s true. I mean, we need a change.
Elena Rose: And something that happens to us a lot, for example, when we arrive in another country, when a Venezuelan sees us, it is as if they see fresh water and they’re hot. It’s happened to me that someone hugs me and tells me, “I haven’t seen my dad in years, I have been separated from my children for years.” Those are the kind of things [they say that go] beyond the limit of what we can accept … What do you say to that person? Something I always do; I like to pray with them at that moment, and my message has always been to nourish faith. I really don’t want any Venezuelan to surrender without seeing their country free.
Lele Pons: Knowing that you are on the right side of history, that you go to sleep and say, “I did something good today, I am proud of my friends, of my family, of what is happening,” gives you peace. Even if you can often lose friends or followers or whatever, you don’t have to care … It’s not political. It’s for the people.
Lele Pons
Mary Beth Koeth
Elena Rose: (To Danny Ocean.) The night before [venequia.] came out, I remember that you called me, and we talked for about an hour about how you felt at the moment. And these are the things that people don’t see and don’t know…
How did you feel, Danny?
Danny Ocean: Distraught.
Elena Rose: We both did! We were like, “OK, this is going to happen, and after we cross this line, it’s going to be OK.” But at the same time, I remember telling you, “This has been in your heart for a long time and you have to say that now.” … It is a love letter to Venezuela, as is your album [Hotel Caracas] too, [Mau y Ricky], as is [our song] “Caracas en el 2000,” which at the end of the day was also what we always talked about: I want this to be a hug for Venezuelans and for Venezuela.
Mau and Ricky, speaking of Hotel Caracas, you traveled to Venezuela for the first time in many years to shoot all the videos for the album, as well as a documentary which is nominated for a Latin Grammy. You were able to reunite with Venezuela and really get to know the country.
Ricky: It was like a personal need of knowing who the f–k I am … I was 10 when I left Venezuela, and my reality of Venezuela and Caracas was different. My father [singer Ricardo Montaner] was kidnapped when I was 6, so my relationship [with Venezuela] was almost toxic. There were 20 years of fears of thinking that I was going to get there and get killed or something… So, when we started making Hotel Caracas, which is an album where we are returning to our creative beginnings as well, we realized that we needed go back to where we are from … Being able to stand up in a stadium in Argentina and say, “¡Viva Venezuela!,” and not feel that the people there would say, “Oh, how cute, they say they are from Venezuela, but they haven’t gone.” I felt imposter syndrome; I didn’t want to feel that anymore. And I got there and felt their pride in saying, “I’m so proud of what you’ve accomplished out there and how you’re representing us.” That, for us, became our motivation. So, making Hotel Caracas was literally, “How can we carry this communication on another side as well?” And our way was going back to Venezuela, making a movie, employing 200 people there, investing an absurd amount of money in the country for hope and for telling people, “Hey, what we are fighting for is worth it. Look at the people of this country. Look at the talent and that we can make an entire movie in Venezuela.”
Ricky Montaner
Mary Beth Koeth
A year ago, international artists were returning to Venezuela to play massive shows, something that had not been done in many years. You have not had the chance to do that. Do you hope that will happen for you one day?
Ricky: My biggest dream is imagining us returning to Venezuela with our people singing. Obviously now it can become very uncomfortable for us … because we have clear opinions of where we stand, so stepping on a stage and not communicating a truth is very complicated. There are real threats, there are things happening that are serious.
Danny Ocean: Look, I’m going to be very frank and excuse me, I’m going to try to choose the best words. I’m not thinking about concerts … All I want is for this to end and for us to be calm and be able to walk in peace … I’m not saying that Venezuela is not suitable for concerts; I believe that people deserve joy, I believe that people deserve to be able to enjoy [concerts]. But personally, I can’t think right now about a show in Venezuela knowing the critical situation we are in. With electricity problems, with water problems, with basic needs.
Elena Rose: There are many things that are missing in Venezuela [also] regarding the music industry. The concert is like the last thing that in theory should happen. There is no industry as such, really, with a solid base in Venezuela. There are many things that are happening with artists who are there, who have other needs than ours, who have fewer opportunities to say no, to put it that way. Unfortunately, there has not been a good education for the artists to explain to them the value of their art, that it is not OK to give away what is truly priceless, that no one should be able to say to you, “Give me [your song] and take this.” I have seen cases that hurt me a lot.
Can you give an example?
Elena Rose: Yes. There are wonderful, super talented songwriters there, and they tell them, “Look, I’ll give you 500 dollars for your song and you no longer have any power over it.” And the person who is really struggling says yes.
In Colombia, music has caused a tangible change in how the country is perceived. Do you think the same thing could happen with Venezuela?
Nacho: I think it can happen, but we need to count on the resources that Colombia has. For example, consumer platforms that generate dividends for artists through streams, through views. You see a Venezuelan artist succeeding abroad, and perhaps Venezuela does not appear as the country that consumes their music the most. If you check which are the countries that consume me the most, Mexico is No. 1 and Venezuela is 17, and it’s not that there are not more Venezuelans who follow my career than Mexicans, but that there is no industry. That’s the problem. And for there to be an industry we need to change the reality of the country, start to see what is best for us in terms of the economy so that things begin to move the way they are moving in Colombia … In our country, we are survivors, really.
Nacho
Mary Beth Koeth
Ricky: To give you an idea, on Spotify Mexico, a No.1 can be 2 million streams in a day, while in Venezuela it can be 8,000. I mean…
Everything is relative…
Danny Ocean: The numbers aren’t condensed into one place. Our numbers are scattered. So, since there is no industry to be able to concentrate the numbers in one place, in the end we are not attractive … There is great work to do.
Nacho: The thing is that our main market is not our main market … Because you say, [if] a Venezuelan is achieving this level of consumption, it is because he is conquering the world around Venezuela. So, it is not a fair fight for us. And obviously — without detracting from the wonderful talents and numbers that artists from Colombia are achieving, or our colleagues who we love and adore and follow and admire — for us it is definitely a little more difficult.
Mau: And I’ll tell you something that I find very interesting. Listening to you speak, Nacho, heals many things in me … It is beautiful to know that there are other people living the same thing as you. You know? It’s very nice to know that, damn, I’m not alone and that maybe I, a little bit foolishly, should have taken refuge with my Venezuelan colleagues before. Why do I think that is happening what’s happening with Venezuelan artists in the world right now? Precisely because we are more united than ever. I think that is the difference and that is why it is happening, because I think we are realizing something what Colombia realized a while ago. And Puerto Rico, of course. They understood that to be able to carry and take out and make people on the outside talk too — “Wow, you’re from Colombia! From where J Balvin is!” You know, that wasn’t just J Balvin, that was them grabbing each other and saying, “Hey, let’s go into this together.”
Nacho: But that’s this generation. We come from generation that was quite separated, where egos won all the time and the competition was between who is going to achieve the most things without understanding. And that is why I bring up technology, because now you can see with numbers what you can achieve through unity … Now the new generations are being trained with knowledge and education about the music industry. And it is not only motivated by unity, by knowing that together we are more, but also knowing that we are enhancing what we are doing.
Music and the arts in general have the power to help us deal with hardship. How do you feel it has helped you as artists and as people?
Ricky: Music is my great love. Music is everything to me. I don’t remember a time in my life where there was a plan B.
Elena Rose: I always say that music dedicated so many songs to me, that I can only dedicate my life to music. Through music I feel like I got to know God more, because I can’t put God into words, and I can’t put into words what I feel when I listen to music.
Lele Pons: You all are so talented, and you write music. But for me, since I was little, I used music as therapy, as a way to communicate because I didn’t talk much. I don’t talk that much in my videos either, so I put on music so that it speaks for me in my videos.
Music can change lives. Music can change hearts. Do you feel that it can help change the course of history?
Elena Rose: Wherever there is music, and someone who wants to listen to it, there is love.
Danny Ocean: Sigmund Freud said that music is to the soul what gymnastics is to the body. I very much agree with that.
While Nicolás Maduro moved Christmas up in Venezuela to Oct. 1, a gaita — the quintessential music genre for the holidays in the South American country — makes use of a speech by opposition leader María Corina Machado to speak out against the government amid the deep crisis since the July 28 presidential election.
Its title is “Échenle Bolas” (slang for “undertake with determination” or “go ahead”), written by Venezuelan singer, songwriter and producer Nano Silva and released last week on social media. “Go ahead, show the minutes, that’s what the whole world is asking for/ We showed them first, and they do have the exact count/ Go ahead, show the minutes, so that the true shines,” says part of the song performed by Silva’s band, Gaiteando con Nando, in reference to the questioned results of the election.
It was shared on Instagram by Venezuelan personalities such as comedian George Harris, where it had more than 28,000 likes at the time of this publication.
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According to election results published by the opposition, which have been recognized by countries including the United States, González won the election with about 70% of the vote. Maduro was proclaimed the winner by the National Electoral Council amid complaints of fraud and has not presented the minutes to support his victory.
After weeks of demonstrations that left dozens dead and more than 2,000 people arrested, Maduro declared Monday (Sep. 2) in a televised event: “September is coming and it already smells like Christmas. And that is why this year, in homage to you, in gratitude to you, I am going to decree the early Christmas for October 1. Christmas begins on October 1 for everyone. Christmas has arrived with peace, happiness and security.”
Maduro’s statement came only hours after a Venezuelan judge issued an arrest warrant for opposition leader Edmundo González for “various crimes including conspiracy, falsifying documents and usurpation of powers,” The Associated Press reported.
It is not the first time that the Chavismo leader has changed the end-of-year festivities schedule in Venezuela. In 2020, Maduro decreed the start of Christmas for Oct. 15, in 2021 for Oct. 4, and last year for Nov. 1.
Listen to Nano Silva’s gaita “Échenle Bolas” below:
As tension continues in Venezuela following the presidential elections on Sunday (July 28), when the Venezuelan electoral authority declared Nicolás Maduro the winner and the opposition denounced irregularities in the count and claimed that their candidate Edmundo González had won with almost 70% of the votes, Venezuelan and foreign artists have spoken out about the difficult situation in the South American country.
Whether expressing solidarity with the Venezuelan people or sharing images of the demonstrations that have turned violent in the face of repression by the Armed Forces and the police, Venezuelan stars like Nacho, Lele Pons and Elena Rose, as well as foreigners like Juan Luis Guerra, Gloria Trevi and Don Omar, have shared messages of support with their millions of followers.
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One of those who has been most vocal from exile is Danny Ocean, who in recent days posted an emotional video on his Instagram account calling on the family members of the National Bolivarian Armed Forces (FANB) and police forces to make them see reason to prevent further bloodshed.
The demonstrations in Venezuela have left “at least 20 dead, dozens injured, and hundreds detained,” reports Univision Noticias. While the government has refused to make public the voting records that would show Maduro has won, opposition leader María Corina Machado and her team published theirs on the internet, with election witnesses also showing them on social media. The U.S. government has recognized Edmundo González as the winner of the elections.
Danny Ocean, who left Venezuela in 2015, feels that the only way for this to end is with the support of the militia, and that is why he insists on his call. In this “as told to” narrative, the Venezuelan musician reflects on the situation in his country and invites his colleagues to unite in a single message.
I don’t even know where to start. What is happening in Venezuela hurts me a lot. It hurts to see the number of kids who are dying right now in the streets, and I feel that the only ones who can ease this and reduce this are the National Armed Forces and the police.
I know that they must not be having an easy time either, honestly. But, I don’t know, that’s how I feel. Everything I have been talking about from my side has been from the heart, trying to be as sensible as possible. And I also don’t want to interfere with the communication that is happening right now with Venezuela; I am trying to support all the people who are trying to talk to their children, helping to pass information about the people who are inside Venezuela.
From my side, I don’t want to be putting out information like this arbitrarily; I think it’s necessary to give space to digital media so they can communicate what they want to communicate. I just want to call on the relatives of the military to please talk to them, tell them that we are really tired. They know what is happening and what is really going on and what is right and what is wrong. They are the only ones who can help the people so that there is no massacre in the streets.
If we want to get out of this mess, because this is no longer a political issue of left, right, blue, red, yellow, none of that crap. No. This is now a situation of good against evil. And about people being tired. People are really tired.
And beyond that, there are almost 8 million Venezuelans who are abroad, as I said in my post, and the region is not prepared for another massive wave [of emigrants]. And we don’t want more broken families. Enough is enough! If that number is so high, it’s for a reason. If there’s smoke, there’s fire. This is something very important for the international community to understand, because we are really tired, and the military knows it.
The game right now is on their side. It really depends on them. And I, as a spokesperson, as an artist, am trying to simply carry my message on that side.
[I would like to see Venezuela] prosperous, with chances to grow, where people don’t have to worry about their future, don’t have to worry about having to leave to seek a better future. A place where there is room for everything. Venezuela has everything for everyone to do something incredible. That’s what I hope happens at the end of all this.
But now I’m trying to focus on the present, on what is happening. Right now I think we need to all get together, guys. People are dying in the streets.
I see artists throwing crap at each other [on social media]. That doesn’t work. The messages have to be positive. I know there is a lot of pain, I know there are many things stored inside, but it’s not the time to be throwing crap at each other. It’s very important that at least the community of artists among us Venezuelans are aligned with the messages we are giving.
If all the artists got on a wave of pleading with our militia and our police to help and collaborate — because they are the only ones who can reduce that number [of victims] — that would be great. I think it would be a spectacular movement if we all united with that message.
Danny Ocean is appealing to the relatives of members of the National Bolivarian Armed Forces of Venezuela and police forces to try to reason with them and prevent further bloodshed.
The Venezuelan musician posted an emotional message Tuesday night (July 30) amid the massive protests taking place in his home country since the Venezuelan National Electoral Council declared Nicolás Maduro the winner in Sunday’s (July 28) presidential elections, and the opposition denounced irregularities in the counting process.
“To the relatives, wives, mothers, fathers, husbands, daughters, sons who listen to my music and who have family within the National Armed Forces and police forces in Venezuela, I ask you to please talk to them. They are the only ones who can reduce the death, the wounded and the violence that is happening today in Venezuela,” Ocean said in a video.
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“I beg you please talk to them so they become aware. What is right feels right, and what is wrong feels wrong,” he added.
Sunday’s elections in Venezuela had generated expectations of change in many people, since after 25 years of the socialist government initiated by the late Hugo Chávez, President Nicolás Maduro faced “the biggest electoral challenge since he came to power 11 years ago,” as reported by The Associated Press. Edmundo González, who represented the united opposition candidacy, campaigned vigorously agains Maduro’s re-election.
Opposition leader María Corina Machado denied Maduro’s triumph and said in a press conference, “We won, and everybody knows it,” pointing out that in the 40% of the tally sheets in her possession, González had won with 70% of the votes.
The protests over suspicion of fraud committed by the government have left several dead and hundreds detained in less than 24 hours, reports El País.
Ocean also expressed his concern that the situation could lead to more Venezuelans going into exile. According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), nearly 8 million people have left the country since 2014 due to the economic and socio-political crisis. The Inter-Agency Coordination Platform for Refugees and Migrants (R4V) warns that, by the end of this year, there could be about 6.82 million refugees and migrants from Venezuela in Latin America and the Caribbean, 4.71 million of them in need of assistance.
“We are 8 million Venezuelans who are outside, and if this continues like this, there will be a much larger wave of Venezuelans leaving Venezuela,” said Ocean, “and the region is not prepared for that.”
The artist invited those who are helping getting supplies and medicines to hospitals to tag him on social media so that he can share these initiatives with his followers. Watch his full message below.
Hours after the Venezuelan National Electoral Council declared Nicolás Maduro the winner in Sunday’s (July 28) presidential elections, the opposition denounced irregularities in the counting process, leading a number of Venezuelan artists to react with sorrow to the political situation in their country.
“Impossible not to wake up on a morning like today’s without praying for the unity and peace of our Venezuela. We are riding on hope with tears in our eyes and faith in our chests,” brothers Mau y Ricky told Billboard.
“THEY STOLE THE VOTES!!! IT IS KNOWN TO BE FRAUD!!! What an injustice, poor Venezuela! A national sentiment,” singer and influencer Lele Pons wrote in Spanish on her Instagram account with a series of images and videos of her crying and of the news.
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“fraud. brazenness. cynicism. mockery. DICTATORSHIP. There are no words to describe it and the world has to keep learning about it,” Latin Grammy winner Joaquina wrote on her Instagram stories, while on her X account she posted: “Don’t try to cover the sun with a finger.”
Sunday’s elections in Venezuela had generated expectations of change in many people, since after 25 years of the socialist government initiated by the late Hugo Chávez, President Nicolás Maduro faced “the biggest electoral challenge since he came to power 11 years ago,” as reported by The Associated Press. Edmundo González, who represented the united opposition candidacy, campaigned vigorously agains Maduro’s re-election.
Dozens of Venezuelan artists flooded their social media accounts with messages expressing their hope for a change of course in the country. But close to midnight, the National Electoral Council declared Maduro the winner with 51.2% of the votes — despite the opposition’s claims of irregularities in the counting process. Shortly after, opposition leader María Corina Machado denied Maduro’s triumph and said in a press conference, “We won, and everybody knows it,” pointing out that in the 40% of the tally sheets in her possession, González had won with 70% of the votes.
González, meanwhile, told the AP: “Venezuelans and the whole world know what happened.”
The situation, however, is not surprising to some, as similar situations have been seen in past elections in the South American country. “Venezuela has been living a great fraud for many years… an ideological, moral and ethical fraud,” the lead singer of Venezuelan rock/reggae band Rawayana, Alberto ‘Beto’ Montenegro, tells Billboard. “Unfortunately we are not surprised by another electoral fraud, we have already seen it all.”
Venezuelan producer and composer Román Rojas, meanwhile, told Billboard Español that he experienced “the aftermath of the brutality of the Maduro regime through a friend, a talented violinist, who was tortured for his political stance.” He was referring to Wuilly Arteaga, who became known in 2017 by playing sad versions of the national anthem during demonstrations in Caracas, and who was thrown to the ground, had his violin broken and was imprisoned in a confrontation with policemen.
“For artists to flourish, they need to live in societies where freedom of expression is protected, not punished,” Rojas added. “When governments impose restrictions, art loses its authenticity and becomes a tool of ideology.”
For Henry D’Arthenay, leader of the group La Vida Bohème, “In Venezuela, we’ve grown used to this political circus; we are unfazed, and in my opinion, this has only made us stronger. The millions of Venezuelans kidnapped by a scam of a government that sold false hope and gave hunger in exchange, and the millions of Venezuelans outside the country who were pushed out and that were denied the chance to vote. We are the orphans who continue holding the nation together with the power of hope.”
Latin Grammy-nominated DJ and producer Mr. Pauer, meanwhile, pointed out that, although he has been living in the U.S. for over 30 years, he prays for change and dreams of going back. “It hurts me a lot to see how they repress the voice of my country, which asks for change so badly,” he tells Billboard. “It is time for a peaceful transition and for the world to find out what is happening to my people and to take actions that truly defend democracy.”
—Additional reporting by Isabela Raygoza and Jessica Roiz.
When Mau and Ricky Montaner returned to Venezuela last year after an almost-10-year absence, they both admit they were a little worried.
“Ricky and I were really anxious,” says Mau, before Ricky chimes in, “When we left [Venezuela], our cousins and our best friends stayed behind. They always told us, ‘Oh, you’re no longer Venezuelans. You’re gringos.’ And that was really our identity. So we felt a lot of those nerves. When they opened the doors to the plane and I stuck my head out, and I saw the girls who came with the wheelchairs get all excited, I thought, ‘OK. We’re good.’”
The three-month stay was an essential part of the adventure of creating Hotel Caracas, the brothers’ new album, scheduled for release in July. Two singles, “Pasado Mañana” and “Vas a Destrozarme” have already been released. Overall, the project will feature 16 songs, along with corresponding music videos and a documentary, as it highlights the brothers in a different musical light. This time around, they’re working with entirely acoustic arrangements, leaning more pop and using a lot of horns and brass, working with producer Malay Ho, known for his work with artists like Frank Ocean. The album was created as a tribute to the brothers’ native Venezuela. Going back, they say, was a “personal purpose.”
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“We found ourselves in a country that, despite having a complicated situation, […] I can’t say enough about the love we felt from the people and the sense of belonging that one has in one’s land,” says Ricky.
“People talk a lot, but everything they say is about the negative,” adds Mau on the topic of Venezuela. “We want to help continue having the conversations that have been had, but also, we want people to remember how extraordinary the music of my country is, the cinema in my country and the culture in general. People are desperate for this to happen.”
Mau and Ricky Montaner have been musical adventurers for as long as they can remember. Born three years apart (Mau is 30, Ricky is 33), the brothers have been making music together since they were children and have experimented a lot along the way, trying out sounds ranging from urban pop songwriting to many cross-genre mashups of their songs – from reggaeton to tropical.
Dressed in their own version of gray suits (shorts instead of pants and Converse high tops), the brothers spoke with Billboard about Hotel Caracas, their trip to Venezuela and, of course, the series Los Montaner.
Watch the full interview above.
Elena Rose can’t hold back her tears. At her home in Miami, where she spends most of her time since leaving her native Venezuela almost nine years ago to become one of the most sought-after Latin songwriters of her generation, she is eagerly awaiting the premiere of a project she started to work on three years ago — “Caracas en el 2000” with Danny Ocean and Jerry Di — which finally comes out Thursday (October 26).
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As cheerful as it is nostalgic, the tropical song with urban touches is a love letter to the city where the three artists grew up, each in a different socioeconomic area, before the political situation led them, as so many others, to emigrate in search of better opportunities. “What I would give for a thing like that/ You and me in Caracas like in 2000/ Skating around La Cota Mil/ With the macaws/ With such a flow, baby,” says part of the lyrics.
“We were children at that time,” Elena Rose explains to Billboard Español about the reason of the year 2000 in an interview via Zoom. “Beyond the fact that chronologically the country was in a better place, we wanted to show that innocence from three people who had very different lives even though they grew up in the same city.
“I feel that this is how the mind of a child who is enjoying too much on a day at the beach, on a day you went out skateboarding, would sound,” adds the singer-songwriter and only woman nominated for the 2023 Latin Grammy for songwriter of the year. “The feeling of what that soundtrack would sound like just when you go out to recess and are set free from all the classes. It’s pure joy.”
“Caracas en el 2000,” a Warner Music Latina release, was written by Elena Rose, Danny Ocean and Jerry Di and produced by Maff and DJ Tra. Elena Rose’s younger sister, Cristina “Pichu” Hernández, also contributed to the lyrics in its initial stages and now has a starring role in the music video, in which she plays Elena as a teenager. (The three singers, who are portrayed by young actors, also appear in different scenes but filmed their parts in the U.S.)
Directed by Beto Monte and Rodrigo Michelangeli and produced by Capitol, the clip shows emblematic places of Caracas such as the El Ávila hill, the Humboldt Hotel, La Previsora tower (with its iconic digital clock) and different squares, avenues and neighborhoods. In a little over four minutes, it condenses the energy of the city and the joy and strength of its people. It took over a year of work, carried out mostly by Monte (better known as Alberto “Beto” Montenegro of the Venezuelan rock/reggae band Rawayana), who was constantly traveling to Caracas to record visuals, Elena Rose points out how meaningful and personal it’s been for her.
“They recorded the video at my school with the teachers who taught me. My grandmother is in the video. La Pichu, the sister I wrote the song with, is the one who played me when I was little. It’s really remarkable for that reason,” she says with emotion. “They took photos from when I was a child, they even recreated the tattoos I made with markers, what my school bag was like, my little necklaces and things I wore. I mean, can you imagine, it is one of the most important productions and the one I feel most proud to be a part of.”
Now that it is out, she hopes to enjoy the result of the great teamwork involved in the making of the song and the video, and bring part of her culture to the world.
“I hope it serves as a message of hope and faith both for the Caracas native who stayed and for the one that left, and for the one who returns, and for the one who wants to leave,” she says. “It is a message of love everywhere you see it, where there is no mention of religion or politics or social class or sexual inclination or color or money; simply of what unites all of us Caracas, and that is the love for that city. We are proud to come from where we come from.”
Watch the “Caracas en el 2000” video above.
Warner Music Latina
For Rimas Entertainment CEO Noah Assad, it was a night to celebrate. On Feb. 1, seven years after signing Bad Bunny, Assad, 32, took the stage to accept the Executive of the Year award at the annual Grammy-week Billboard Power 100 event to honor the most important executives in the business. In front of an audience that included Universal Music Group CEO Lucian Grainge, HYBE Chairman Bang Si-hyuk and music mogul Clive Davis, Assad, sporting white sneakers and a ponytail, accepted the award from fellow Puerto Rican Bad Bunny. Minutes later, manager and executive Scooter Braun told Assad from the stage: “You’re the best of us now.”
Bad Bunny’s fifth studio album, Un Verano Sin Ti, ended the year at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 — the first non-English album to do so — and his 81 concerts in 2022 grossed a record $434.9 million. Assad was the force behind a lot of this success, as the artist himself noted onstage. “There is no Bad Bunny superstar without Noah,” he said in halting English, then handed Assad the obelisk-shaped plaque. “Without [Bad Bunny],” Assad said as he accepted the award, “a lot of my dreams would have never become true.”
The same could be said of another figure, Rafael Ricardo Jiménez Dan, who founded Rimas nine years ago but has had no interaction with Bad Bunny or the company’s other stars. He went unmentioned in Assad’s acceptance speech, andfew of the executives in that room even knew that he existed. Jiménez says he was the sole owner of Rimas — which manages, records and publishes Bad Bunny — until 2018, when he says he made Assad a 40% owner, though a source close to Assad disputes that description of their initial deal. Before that, Jiménez had been a vice minister in authoritarian leader Hugo Chávez’s Venezuelan government; while in the regime he worked to modernize the country’s information systems and was charged with helping oversee the development of a national ID that Chávez wanted to deepen his control over the populace.
Also unknown to most of the Power 100 attendees, Assad had spent the last few months embroiled in negotiations, which were so intense they continued through the year-end holidays, that would buy Jiménez out of Rimas. After working to build Rimas together for nearly a decade, the relationship between the two men broke down, and for the past five years, multiple sources say, Assad has been pushing to get him out, for “business reasons,” says the source close to him. When Rimas was initially formed in March 2014, Assad believed Jiménez was simply an investor who owned restaurants and packaging companies.
After they started working together, Assad began to hear talk about Jiménez’s connections to the Chávez regime, but when Assad inquired on one occasion, Jiménez told him he had “nothing to hide,” according to the source close to Assad. Now, though, Jimenez may finally be on his way out.
Under the terms of Sony Music Group’s potential deal with Rimas, which is still under discussion, Sony would put up capital toward buying out the 60% stake owned by Jiménez and, through an ownership restructuring, assign a significant minority stake to its independent distribution subsidiary, The Orchard. Bad Bunny, who does not currently have a stake in Rimas, could get some equity and Assad could get a bigger stake in the company, which Billboard estimates could be valued at more than $300 million overall, not including publishing. Together, sources say, Assad and Bad Bunny would likely emerge from the deal controlling Rimas, although the agreement is still being discussed. A separate Rimas publishing arm, also believed to be 60% owned by Jiménez and 40% by Assad, which Billboard estimates is worth about $70 million, will likely be sold in a separate deal, sources say.
Jiménez, Assad and a spokesperson for Sony Music Entertainment declined to comment about any deal in the works.
The size of the potential deal speaks to the growing sway of Latin music and especially of Bad Bunny, who has helped grow the San Juan-based Rimas into a 100-person company that essentially functions as a label, publisher, manager and booking agency and also works with other Latin artists like Arcángel and Karol G.
In a series of email exchanges through his lawyer, Jiménez gave Billboard an unprecedented look at his unlikely journey from an army captain raised in Portuguesa, a rural part of Venezuela, to one of music’s most successful behind-the-scenes investors. The image that emerges is that of a savvy operator who positioned his business enterprises in ways that benefitted from his government connections in Venezuela — and who in both his five-year government career and his second life in the U.S. music business has remained out of public view while playing a role in the lives of prominent people, like an unseen gravitational force.
Jiménez, 56, who played violin in Venezuela’s youth orchestra system and got his first taste in the music industry managing a Venezuelan urban duo, formed at least a dozen companies from 2005 to 2013, in Venezuela and the Caribbean, and he also served as CEO of a cardboard and paper packaging firm that Chávez nationalized. He tells Billboard that the funding to start Rimas and his life in the United States came from a Miami restaurant and from a company that imported food products from Brazil and other countries.
Assad was always thought to be the co-founder of Rimas. Although he privately acknowledged the company had a silent partner, he previously told Billboard on the record that he co-founded the company with José “Junior” Carabaño, a 20-year-old Venezuelan graffiti artist. But Jiménez tells Billboard that after meeting a 22-year-old Assad in 2012, he formed Rimas in Puerto Rico in March 2014 and hired Assad as an employee — an arrangement that continued until 2018, when Assad became part-owner after he “agreed to assume more responsibilities.” A source close to Assad disputes that claim but wouldn’t provide more detail. Billboard was unable to obtain documentation of the initial deal terms.
Assad “demonstrated a great talent in the artist development side of the business and worked hard to scale up the growth of the company,” Jiménez says, adding that he brought Assad aboard as part of “a strong team of talented people were brought aboard to take over the day-to-day operations.”
Jiménez would not tell Billboard how much he initially invested in Rimas. A 2017 corporate filing for Risamar Business Group, the entity Jiménez used to hold his share of Rimas, shows $1.34 million in assets and $648,098 in liabilities. Property records show that, in 2014, while still living in Caracas, Venezuela, Jiménez also purchased a foreclosed property in an exclusive beachfront neighborhood in San Juan for $390,000 in cash to turn into Rimas’ first offices and recording studios.
Rimas Entertainment’s first office in San Juan, Puerto Rico.
Juan R. Costa
Assad served as the face of Rimas in the music business, but Jiménez says he led the company for four years before effectively handing the reins to Assad. Until then, Jiménez had to approve — and often vetoed — artist signings that would exceed the company’s budget, and he was also kept apprised of the label’s other big decisions, including the very important one to sign Bad Bunny. Jiménez was copied on the April 11, 2016, email from Rimas attorney Jessie Abad to Assad about the “360 deal and songwriter agreement” for Benito Martínez Ocasio (Bad Bunny), according to a copy of a partially redacted email in a civil case in San Juan and one person familiar with the matter.
From Army Captain to Vice Minister
Like many leaders in Venezuela, Jiménez’s career started at a military academy. He graduated in 1987, No. 3 in his class. He finished the same year as Diosdado Cabello and Jesse Chacón, he noted, both of whom participated in Chávez-directed coup attempts in 1992; Rodolfo Marco Torres was a class below them. All three went on to become high-level officials in the Chávez regime.
Venezuela’s legacy as one of the wealthiest and most-stable democracies in the region began to change on Feb. 4, 1992, when Chávez, then a disaffected army officer, led a failed coup attempt. Once out of prison, he rose to fame and was elected president in 1998 on an anti-establishment platform. A disciple of Cuban leader Fidel Castro, he later veered toward autocratic socialism by silencing opposition parties, packing the courts, harassing the media and nationalizing more than 1,000 businesses.
While Chávez’s “missions to save the people” initially helped stem poverty, his policies laid the foundation for the oil-rich country’s descent into full-blown dictatorship after his death in 2013. His legacy also included “an institutionalized kleptocracy the likes of which the world has never seen before,” Marshall Billingslea, former assistant secretary for the Office of Terrorist Financing and Financial Crimes in the U.S. Treasury Department, wrote in 2021. Over the past two decades, Chávez and Maduro, his successor, “and their cronies,” Billingslea wrote, “plundered at least $300 billion from state assets.”
President of Venezuela Hugo Chavez gives a speech during the closing session of the 4th PetroCaribe Summit in the Camilo Cienfuegos refinery Dec. 21, 2007 in Cienfuegos, Cuba.
Sven Creutzmann/Mambo photo/GI
Jiménez, who was commissioned as an army captain, retired from the military in 1999, by which time he had earned degrees in both law and systems engineering. Once Chávez took power in 1999, the new president initiated a sweeping modernization program, and Jiménez’s knowledge of telematics, which involves the long-distance transmission of computerized information, proved valuable. He joined the government in late 2002, serving initially in a management and technical unit that oversaw the operational side of the Judiciary, helping to digitize the country’s law enforcement and criminal and civil administration.
After he was briefly ousted from office in 2002, Chávez launched Misión Identidad (Mission Identity), a program that became a cornerstone of his “Bolivarian Missions,” or social programs, and a way for him to tighten his hold on power after the failed coup —at the expense of civil liberties. Its focus became developing a national ID card with biometric data embedded in a chip that would be modeled after China’s smart card, which Beijing uses to track social, economic and political behavior. Chávez launched his ID program in 2003, employing a Cuban company to help implement it, according to the Center for a Secure Free Society (SFS), a conservative national security think tank in Washington, D.C., that has testified in Congress about the dangers of the Venezuelan regime.
Mission Identity involved transitioning Venezuela’s passport and naturalization system from what was called ONIDEX to the higher capacity SAIME system. Beginning around 2003, Jiménez worked with a hand-picked team on the automation of the project, according to two people familiar with the matter. SAIME went online in 2009. President Nicolás Maduro, Chávez’s successor, finally rolled out the national ID, later called the carnet de la patria, or “fatherland ID,” in 2018. (Jiménez would not comment on whether he worked on the transition to SAIME.)
Jiménez’s government career peaked in March 2006 when Chacón appointed him vice minister of legal security in the Interior Ministry. That led to a seemingly plum assignment the following January when he became one of five directors of Mission Identity, according to a government document.
Chávez officials in 2007 allegedly used Mission Identity to provide false identities to Cuban agents to enter Venezuela, and to facilitate the travel of suspected Islamist terrorists, Colombian guerillas and drug traffickers, says the SFS.
Despite his official designation as a director, Jiménez says he “personally never worked with Mission Identity” and that the directorate had “no decision-making authority.” He resigned from the Interior Ministry after about a year and a half, “due to frustration with the government’s unwillingness to fairly and justly apply the rule of law.” (Jiménez provided a copy of his resignation letter signed on Oct. 11, 2007, by Pedro Carreño, the Interior Minister at the time.) He adds that he “sought to implement several projects aimed [at] improving legal certainty, to guarantee a better participation of the civil society and to increase the standards of transparency but these were obstructed and stopped by the minister (Carreño) above him.”
Jiménez overlapped in the Interior Ministry by about five months with Tareck El Aissami, a powerful member of the regime who served as a vice minister through September 2008, and then as Interior Minister from 2008 to 2012. The Trump administration sanctioned El Aissami in 2017 and the Justice Department indicted him in 2019 for alleged international narcotics trafficking and money laundering; U.S. Treasury officials have also been investigating his ties to the terrorist group Hezbollah. (El Aissami responded to the accusations in 2017 on Twitter, calling them “infamy and aggression; Maduro said he had “delivered the strongest blows against the heads of drug trafficking” in Venezuela.)
Venezuela’s Vice President Tareck El Aissami delivers a speech during a rally against the secretary general of the Organization of American States (OAS), Luis Almagro, in Caracas on March 28, 2017.
FEDERICO PARRA/AFP via GI
El Aissami was the chief architect of the national ID program, according to Joseph Humire, who heads the SFS, and who testified to Congress about the program in 2015. El Aissami also allegedly oversaw a multiyear program to sell hundreds, if not thousands, of legitimate Venezuelan passports for as much as $50,000 apiece to people from Middle Eastern countries, says Mauricio Claver-Carone, former senior director for Western Hemisphere Affairs at the National Security Council. (Delcy Rodríguez, then Venezuela’s foreign minister, told CNN in 2017 that allegations of selling passports and visas were “totally” false.)
Through his lawyer, Jiménez says he has “no knowledge” of the passport-selling program and “has never had any personal, business or political relationship with Mr. El Aissami.” Jiménez’ lawyer adds that “the presence of individuals like Mr. El Aissami was one of the factors that led Mr. Jiménez to resign.”
On the Money
Jiménez was initially reluctant to discuss his investment in Rimas, which he first told Billboard derived from “private business activity,” without offering more details. He later clarified that the funding came from a food import company and a restaurant in Miami, as well as a line of credit he said was from a bank in Florida, “which was secured by his assets in Florida.”
Risamar Business Group also controls a Florida-based food company of the same name. The company’s website says it specializes in “high-quality, ethically produced snack foods, canned fruits and vegetables, cleaning supplies and animal care products.”
In October 2006, at the peak of his career in the Chávez regime, Jiménez also started an import-export food company in Venezuela, Agropecuario Ravigg C.A. It imported food to Venezuela from Brazil, Argentina and other countries, generating a net profit of 8,897,246 bolívares ($1.4 million) in 2013, according to the Registry of National Contractors (RNC). Ravigg shipments from January to May of 2014 alone totaled $7.9 million in value, according to Venezuela’s National Center for Foreign Commerce (CENCOEX). The firm, which is 85% owned by Jiménez and still operates, did business as food shortages were beginning to mount in the country after the price of oil plummeted. Food imports became controversial in 2019 when the U.S. Treasury Department sanctioned a Colombian national and others for allegedly orchestrating a scheme that enabled Maduro and his regime to “significantly profit from food imports and distribution in Venezuela” as far back as 2016. (Ravigg was not named in the sanctions.)
When asked to clarify if Ravigg was the company he was talking about that helped him fund Rimas, Jiménez said it was not and that he had been referring to a third “international food-trading entity,” founded in 2008, which he declined to name.
Jiménez also handled a variety of Venezuelan government contracts through Rialfi Consulting C.A., a company he set up in August 2005, seven months before joining the Interior Ministry. By the following August, when he was a vice minister, Rialfi landed a contract with the Venezuelan Institute of Social Services (IVSS), which manages employee pension funds.
Between 2006 and 2018, Rialfi completed 17 contracts, 15 of which were with government-controlled companies or institutions, including the national oil company Petróleos de Venezuela, the Bank of the Treasury and Banco de Venezuela. (Jiménez was still listed as CEO in 2019; Rialfi is 100% owned by Consorcio Riso C.A., which Jiménez also controls.)
In an email, Jiménez says no funds from Rialfi were invested in Rimas and notes that with the “year-to-year devaluation of the bolívar, those proceeds would have had very little value if they were ever converted to dollars.” (A government document from 2019 shows Rialfi had total assets of 2.84 billion bolívares, worth $6,100 in December of that year, when the currency was cratering from hyperinflation of 9,586%.)
After Jiménez resigned from the Interior Ministry in October 2007, he didn’t stop doing business with the government. Since Jiménez left his post, Rialfi has executed at least 14 contracts with Chávez-controlled companies or institutions, according to the 2019 document. Jiménez says the contracts were granted “via a public bidding process.”
Jiménez, downplays his government service, describing himself as “an entrepreneur for over 20 years in different industries, including food and beverage, technology, packaging, hospitality and entertainment.” In April 2010, the board of Envases Internacionales S.A., a cardboard and paper packaging firm, named him CEO (and majority shareholder, he says); two months later, Chávez nationalized the company, in what became a common practice of appointing current or former military officers to lead companies the government had taken over.
Jiménez eventually controlled or ran at least 15 companies in Venezuela and Panama, and later in Barbados, Florida and Puerto Rico, according to corporate records.
He made his first foray into the music industry in Caracas in 2011, when he started managing and funding Kent & Tony, a newly formed urban act. The duo wanted to work with Puerto Rican producers Los de la Nazza, and in October 2012, Assad, their manager, flew with the producers to Caracas to work with the Venezuelans in the studio. Jiménez asked Assad to also manage Kent & Tony, and in January 2014, they signed a license agreement with Siente Music.
After that, Jiménez moved quickly, founding Rimas two months later in Puerto Rico, when he saw an opportunity “for a well-run full-service independent label focused on a genre that was growing exponentially.”
Helpful to the early interactions between Assad and Jiménez, say two people familiar with the matter, was Carabaño, the son of a Venezuelan folk singer from Barquisimeto popular with military veterans. Later, working with Assad at Rimas, Carabaño signed Venezuelan artists like rapper Big Soto. (Carabaño did not respond to requests for an interview.)
After Chávez died in 2013, Jiménez left Venezuela in November 2014, he says, and moved to the Miami area, where he had already bought a house in 2008 for $925,000 with his now wife Dayva Soto Vallenilla, a former Venezuelan judge, in Weston, a suburb known as Westonzuela for its popularity with Venezuelans. They purchased the home about six months after Jiménez left the Chávez government. They emigrated at a time when U.S. officials were allowing in few Venezuelans with high-level government backgrounds. Jiménez maintained his connection to his native country, traveling from Miami to Caracas 10 times between December 2014 and July 2018, according to Venezuelan passport records.
Rimas to Riches
“I’m from a place called Carolina, Puerto Rico,” Assad said to the audience of about 400 at the Billboard Power 100 event. Assad’s hometown, just outside of San Juan, is known as “Tierra de Gigantes” (Land of Giants), for 7-foot-11-inch resident Don Felipe Birriel González and for baseball star Roberto Clemente, the first Latin player named to the Hall of Fame.
By 2013, Assad was living in a small apartment in Carolina while organizing parties and booking performers in Colombia and other Latin American countries. By that time, he had already been managing future reggaetoón star Ozuna. Soon after, Assad created a YouTube business, striking the first direct partnership in Puerto Rico with the platform to more easily monetize content, says Mauricio Ojeda, YouTube’s manager of label partnerships, U.S. Latin. He says he first met Assad in San Juan in early 2014 — before Rimas existed — and decided to partner with him because of his connections to the underground Latin urban scene on the island. At the time, major labels and important markets like Mexico were not optimistic about the future of reggaetón and Latin trap music, and Ojeda says he was looking to recruit a partner in Puerto Rico, where the scene was heating up.
Jo-Ann Toro
“We spoke for hours, we hung out in Puerto Rico, he introduced me around,” says Ojeda, who says he also met Jiménez during that period. “[Assad] said he was going to come out with a ‘road map and a plan’ for becoming a YouTube partner,” says the YouTube executive.
YouTube signed a deal with Rimas in February 2015, Ojeda says, for a partnership that involved sharing revenue from video ads and other monetization features like channel memberships and merch sales. “This was providing the artists the opportunity to export their content and reach their audiences, during a time when nobody was really paying attention to them,” Ojeda says.
In 2016, with the YouTube partnership and Jiménez’s financing in place at Rimas, Puerto Rican rapper Eladio Carrión, an early Rimas signing, introduced Assad to Martínez, a then college student calling himself Bad Bunny, who was appearing at a Ponce show with Carrión. At the time, Bad Bunny was earning money for school by working as a bagger at the Econo supermarket near his home in Vega Baja. Martínez dropped out of the University of Puerto Rico at Arecibo, where he was studying audiovisual communication, and switched to a sound engineering program at the College of Cinematography, Arts and Television. (He chose his stage name after posting a picture of himself as a child wearing a bunny suit and a dour expression, then created a Twitter handle.)
After Bad Bunny uploaded some of his early music on SoundCloud, Assad in April 2016 signed him to the 360 deal with Rimas, collaborating on some early tracks with DJ Luian’s label Hear This Music.
Eventually, as Assad’s differences with Jiménez became increasingly apparent, Assad began seeking better opportunities for himself and his team, says a source close to Rimas. Days before Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico in September 2017, Assad met with manager Scooter Braun, whom he’d long admired, about a potential deal in which Braun would provide investment, making Jiménez aware of their discussions, according to multiple sources. The deal got close to the finish line but didn’t come to fruition.
Econo market in Vega Baja where Bad Bunny worked before Rimas signed him.
Alexei Barrionuevo
By mid-2020, with Bad Bunny’s success accelerating, Rimas had moved into newer offices in San Juan’s Miramar neighborhood on the top floor of a small office building. That November, Assad branched out, forming his own management agency, Habibi, which signed Karol G. The industry took notice: Even before Sony Music started negotiating a deal to help Assad buy out his majority partner, other companies were sniffing around Rimas, including HYBE, which has prioritized adding Latin companies to its portfolio.
This month, Bad Bunny and Rimas made history yet again when the Puerto Rican star performed at Coachella as the first Spanish-language headliner. The next night, Karol G, whose fourth studio album, Mañana Será Bonito (Tomorrow Will Be Beautiful) debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 in March, performed on Saturday Night Live.
Behind the scenes, Sony and Rimas continue to work on the deal that could give both Assad and Jiménez — two driven hustlers from different generations and different worlds — keys to their futures. Assad would get the freedom to pursue his mogul dreams without an investor pulling at the purse strings, while Jiménez is expected to pocket what Billboard estimates could be more than $200 million for his stakes in the recording and publishing businesses he formed less than a decade ago.
Additional Reporting By Marcos David Valverde and Ed Christman
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