Rosalía in “New Woman.” Topping it all is mega- star Bad Bunny: Spotify’s most-streamed artist worldwide from 2020 to 2022 (and still in the top three today), who’s appeared in movies, ads, SNL , the WWE, the Met Gala—everywhere. “I’m constantly getting requests from Japan [and London] for ‘Livin’ la Vida Loca.’ All the Ricky Martin stuff from the late ’90s, they love,” says Javier Mendez BM ’08, senior manager in sync at Warner Chappell Music in Miami. “And FIFA,” the soccer gaming series, “uses lots of Latin music. It’s an amazing soundtrack everybody wants to be on.” Mendez also describes how, after learning that “Disney was making a movie about a little Mexican kid,” he sent production their best Mexican talent, and Natalia Lafourcade was picked to perform “Remember Me” in Spanish for Coco . “I was super excited. I tell them: ‘If it gets nominated, she needs to play at the Oscars.’ I don’t know if it was me that did it, but it happened [in 2018’s ceremony]. It’s one of my favorite career moments.” Drawing people from Los Angeles, New York, and abroad, Miami’s industry grew not just because of Latin music’s record numbers—it was the pandemic. “Out of nowhere there was a huge Berklee community,” says Andrés Arenas MA ’22, junior A&R manager at Warner Chappell. “The expansion was on the verge of happening,” Mendez adds, but Miami’s minimal restrictions, warm weather, and then-cheaper cost of living sped things up, “kickstarting the industry 15 years,” Perez says. Various labels here broadened their business operations, he adds, including Sony Music Latin, which also opened 5020 Studio. Interscope Miami launched too, headed by Nir Seroussi BM ’96. “Industry people from all walks of life moved here,” says Perez. Meeting by chance at a showcase, he and Mendez told their connections at Berklee about the upswing and, eventually, Miami was added to the Berklee Career Center’s slate of student industry trips. In 2017, as “Despacito” climbed the charts, Perez left LA, where he’d worked under Tony Maserati with Beyoncé, Lady Gaga, and others. The move was meant to be temporary, but after quickly finding lots of opportunities and meeting his future wife, he’s still in Miami. He’s now man- ager and chief engineer of Alacran Studios, which he helped build from scratch. (Warner Chappell is a longtime client; both businesses have nearly all-Berklee teams.) Alacran opened right before lockdowns, so work came sparsely. Eventually, Luis Enrique, who Perez says “can make a record with a straw,” called with an ambitious project. The fusion-heavy album, full of unique instrumentation, was unlike anything the Prince of Salsa had done before. While 12 Latidos remains unreleased, word
of the project online helped Alacran generate serious buzz at the time. Torres also experimented during the pan- demic. For the first time, another artist-producer— Bad Bunny, no less—wanted to be his copilot. “It sounds so crazy . . . I have to do it,” Torres thought initially, their music being so different. Nevertheless, both had the same approach: zero preconceptions and let’s-play-around vibes. “I imagined myself in a band . . . where differences create interesting things.” Bad Bunny spat rhymes nonstop, then instantly spat more if Torres wasn’t convinced, writing nothing down yet remember- ing everything. And Torres, who’s always “found melodies and chords easily by ear” with any instru- ment, captured ideas on pianos, guitars, and more. Sometimes he’d adapt lyrically and musically to his coproducer’s rap phrasing. Sometimes his collaborator composed to Torres’s melodies. Everything was completed “in record time,” and the seemingly madcap venture became a joyful, creatively freeing partnership called El Playlist de Anoche . When asked what Miami needs musically, nearly everyone said more live venues, especially for smaller acts and newcomers. Of those, there’s ZeyZey, the Miami Beach Bandshell, Lagniappe, and Savage Labs, among others. But live music culture is far from ingrained, and locals prefer mainstream acts, their tastes varying otherwise, given their diversity. “Berklee performers tend to struggle here,” Arenas says, citing Pitbull as Miami’s only native, top Latin talent. Historically, this hasn’t been “a place where artists develop. They come to work, but their careers and fan bases are in other countries. Here’s where everything happens and nothing happens,” says A&R direc- tor at Warner Chappell Mariana Zawadzki, who completed a general music studies certificate from Berklee Online in 2023. Miami and Latin music, fundamentally driven by immigrants and their mobility, are also facing greater dilemmas given US policies and attitudes. “It’s unfortunate. Because while all these great things are happening, Latinos in this country feel targeted,” says Perez. However, “it’s also making us want to showcase more who we are. I feel like repression always does that.” Berklee community members in Miami are from Ecuador, Colombia, Chile, Peru, Argentina, Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, Spain, Venezuela, and elsewhere, reflect - ing the industry makeup. For some, even everyday situations feel tense. As promoters, cities, and states lose money from canceled shows (some artists’ visas have been denied or revoked), Torres hopes that such significant business consequences lead to objections and shifting positions.
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