It’s Halloween at a dilapidated castle in Culiacán in the Mexican state of Sinaloa, and a math rock band is on stage, wearing akatsuki cloaks from the popular anime, Naruto. The band is called ttemplos and they’re one of the headliners of a small DIY festival dubbed Holypalooza, organized by local punks Holy Sunn—whose own set would later inspire a non-stop 30 minute mosh pit while they played dressed as corny mall cops. The night was truly memorable, bouncing from surf rockers Canela—who cosplayed as the cast of Nacho Libre—to a throbbing hyperpop duo named fame.ily, spitting fire bars as Mario and Luigi, accompanied by Yoshi on the decks. Production value was also elite, with the festival’s dual stages divided by the kind of folding tables found at basically every hardcore show, lighting provided by two house lamps and a makeup mirror, and periodic runs to the closest OXXO for cheap jumbo beers. In short, the city’s underground cobbled together the best Hallows Eve you could hope for, while also redefining any pre-conceptions of what the Sinaloan music scene has to offer.
Nestled into Mexico’s Pacific Coast, Sinaloa is a culinary powerhouse famous for its seafood, with maximalist interpretations of ceviche and sushi. The state capital of Culiacán is suburban and modern, built over picturesque marshlands best appreciated from the hanging bridges that are scattered across the city. Even in personality and leisure, Sinaloans are proudly distinct from the rest of their Mexican brethren; a boisterous, self-assured people passionate about baseball and whiskey, going against national archetypes of fútbol and mezcal.
Sinaloa is the motherland of banda sinaloense, bombastic music melding folksy corridos with brass instruments brought to Mexico by German immigrants centuries ago. Think of it as polka-infused cowboy music, though best enjoyed on the beachside boardwalks of Mazatlán with a michelada in hand. (At least for now.) Genre giants Banda El Recodo and Chalino Sánchez helped mainstream this mélange of booming arrangements and visceral songwriting, paving the way for beloved ensembles Banda MS and Grupo Marca Registrada, and attracting U.S.-based superstars such as Peso Pluma and Natanael Cano eager to tap into the region’s secret sauce. However, to many, the mere mention of Sinaloa recalls shocking headlines of organized crime and bloody turf wars. The Netflix-produced Narcos and hackneyed sepia-toned films glamorize the ostentatious lifestyles of drug cartel heads like El Chapo, but memories of charred bodies and shoot-outs during conflicts in 2019 and 2023 licit a solemn, cautious respect from locals.
Music is of course a part of this complex story. The way that gangsta rap snapped gritty portraits of inner city street dealings throughout the 1980s and ’90s, narco-corridos have mythologized the feats of outlaws since long before. Some of the canon’s most iconic entries come from enduring norteño favorites Los Tigres del Norte and Los Tucanes de Tijuana, as well as stars caught in the crossfire such as Valentín Elizalde and Jennie Rivera. In Culiacán, you can visit the chapel of Jesús Malverde—the patron saint of narcos and the poor—and leave a monetary offering, or toast to his glory accompanied by a troubadour for hire. For as brutal as the legacy of organized crime may be, these entities have also interceded in lieu of government negligence, not unlike La Cosa Nostra in Sicily.
So how is any of this relevant to a generation of Sinaloan kids wailing over fuzzy guitars and mixing hedonistic techno? Well, you can hear the influence of corridos in the early acoustic ouvre of singer-songwriters BRATTY and Daniel Quién before they broke out into psych and stadium pop. Meanwhile, electronic producers Borgetti and Fausto have sampled punch lines and accordion riffs from classic norteño records to put a devilish twist on their late-night thumpers. Banda and corridos permeate daily life in Northern Mexico, so rather than reject or avoid that legacy, many of these artists fold loving nods into their own musical adventures.
“My entire family is in the music industry,” says singer, producer, and Mazatlán native Anahí Iturralde, better known as Herbolaria. “My grandfather was one of the pioneers of technobanda with Banda Camino, and my dad plays trumpet with La Arrolladora Banda El Limón, which is one of the biggest names in the game. I grew up in all that noise, and though I never considered myself a banda fan, my music as Herbolaria is full of norteño references. Sure, it’s synthpop, but you can hear their influence in my dancey basslines, and bongos that give off a tropical vibe.”
“I didn’t listen much to corridos and música ranchera,” counters Holy Sunn bassist Israel Beltrán, remembering his upbringing in a pop-timist household where Luis Miguel, Hombres G, and Shakira dominated the airwaves. “When I was in high school my tastes gravitated towards Green Day and My Chemical Romance, even if that’s when Valentín Elizalde was playing everywhere. But I’d see DIY shows online with like a 100 kids dressed in their dad’s clothes and I desperately wanted that to happen here.”
Beltrán’s awareness of a local indie scene dates back to the early 2010s, when promoters would bring Mexico City garage rockers Los Blenders and No Somos Marineros to play intimate shows and the occasional festival gig. A few years later buzz began forming around the scene in neighboring Sonora and bands like Sgt. Papers and Margaritas Podridas, which inspired Beltrán and his bandmates to start Casa del Sol, a collective that’s been producing events since 2018. Today they run a small DIY space called El Nido, they manufacture bootleg-style merch for multiple local artists, and have held three editions of Holypalooza welcoming out-of-town acts like Trampa Para Hadas and Honey Pot!
“To me, corridos and metal are very similar,” reflects singer-songwriter Nico Orozco. “I used to rehearse at this space in Culiacán, and I’d hear a metal band next door hammering away. I was fascinated by their hands; the picking in both genres is super progressive. We eventually started hanging out and that’s how I befriended Eduardo Parra, who is also a left-handed guitarist, with whom I formed From Alaska.”
Metal is a recurring variable in small scenes across Latin America—a gateway for alternative weirdos hungry for community, which in the process fosters fiercely devout fanbases. Though in recent years Orozco has planted himself firmly in the folk world, he gushes about his years toiling in the metal scene. “We took references from other Culiacán bands like Evilheart and Tamuzifer,” he adds. “I’m very proud of my scene. Culichi metal is the fucking best, and even today bands like Reiketsu and An Egyptian Journal are making incredible music.”
“Something that sets people apart in Sinaloa is that when we go out, we want to hear heavy-duty shit,” says Prince Terrible, one of the co-founders of electronic label NATIVO. The kaleidoscopic imprint was conceived alongside producers Roliva and Fausto and launched weeks before the global shutdown of 2020, gleefully plunging into techno, drum & bass, and EBM with edits and instrumentals from Technicism, Chinosynth, and NOKID. “Rave culture is nothing new here, but about 10 years ago people started getting used to going out and paying a cover, which has finally created a self-sustaining scene.”
“Whenever I book DJs from out of town I give them a sort of disclaimer,” adds Roliva, acutely attuned to the idiosyncrasies of a still-niche local market. “Sometimes when you come from outside, you don’t understand how people live here. But nothing shocks us. We’ve all lost friends and family [to violence], so we need the extreme bass of a tuba, or a crazy kick drum to shake us out of that space so we can relax. We all just want to escape for a minute.”
In the spirit of high-octane revelry, we’ve selected a group of artists that highlight the diversity and inventiveness of Sinaloa’s vibrant underground. There’s plenty of techno, punk, and folk ahead, and that’s just the tip of snake-skin boot!
Bratty
Bedroom pop superstar Bratty broke out in 2018 with folky EP Todo Está Cambiando, which echoed the regional legacy of corridos while slipping into a growing movement of downtrodden norteño crooners like Ed Maverick and Kevin Kaarl. But unlike the increasingly experimental music of her peers Bratty, aka Jenny Juárez, embraced bluesy pop-rock on her follow-up Delusión, producing massive hits “honey, no estás” and “quiero estar.” Her meteoric rise has led to performances at Coachella and Vive Latino, highly publicized collaborations with electropop darlings Metronomy and reggaetón maverick Álvaro Díaz, and a full-blown pop turn on 2023’s Tr3s LP, produced by Colombian hitmaker Julián Bernal.
Roliva
The NATIVO co-founder is one of the most prolific electronic musicians in Sinaloa, starting out in the local punk scene before embarking on a solo journey plunging into synthpop, acid house, and disco. The cool, jangling beats of his 2018 EP Ruido Capital harnessed the bustling chaos of Culiacán’s urban sprawl, while recent, techno-fueled singles “Voltagge” and his collaboration with Fausto on “Cocaine Promises” are perfect for dark room debauchery. The producer has teamed up with multiple international labels including ROAM Recordings, Night Noise, and Dogs & Vultures, and if you’re a DJ looking to add some crowd-pleasers to your set, check out his addictive edits of Beastie Boys and The Ting Tings.
Leonora Post Punk
The trio from Los Mochis emerged in 2020 as one of the most exciting new names in Mexico’s evergreen—or should it be everblack?—post-punk and darkwave scene. Taking their name from the subversive heroine of Beethoven’s opera Fidelio, Leonora Post Punk have unleashed two throbbing EPs ominously titled Eternos and Polvo. They eulogized the demolished historic district of their hometown on “Colonia Americana,” and serenaded fellow creatures of the night on “Luna.” And for more gothic drama, make sure to check out bassist Efrén García’s equally eerie parallel project, Funeralz.
Rosas
Blending influences from ’60s Motown, ’90s trip-hop, and decades of Latin American trova, Rosas has grown into one of the most respected troubadours in all of Mexico. Though he began performing in Culiacán, his path led to Guadalajara and later Mexico City, entering the orbit of blockbuster rockers such as Porter and Enjambre, and gaining avant-pop allies in Julieta Venegas and Mabe Fratti. 2012’s Nacemos Originales / Morimos Copias LP captured the project’s rawest form with sparse guitar arrangements and ghostly vocals, while 2015’s NO grew more comfortable with immersive electronic atmospheres. His eclectic 2024 LP Santo o Remedio packed a punch of cumbia, disco, and solemn ambient, blowing the doors wide open on his storytelling capabilities.
Herbolaria
Great artists are about contrasts, and Herbolaria’s goofy social media presence is a wonderful foil to her heartfelt synthpop. Though the Mazatlán polymath was raised in a household where banda sinaloense was king, her own curiosity led down a path of twinkly guitar melodies, woozy synths, and unexpected bongo flourishes. The bouncy jams of singles “Amarillo” and “Adiós” showcase her earnest songwriting and influences from disco and psych. But it was her collaboration with Guadalajara rock icon Elis Paprika on “Más de lo que imaginas,” a cover of ’90s dance-pop duo The Sacados, that fully married her melancholy tendencies and bubbly personality.
Holy Sunn
For nearly a decade, Culiacán punks Holy Sunn have presided over their local underground, mixing up a Molotov cocktail of psych and punk. The band’s 2019 debut EP Beyond is the echoing portrait of a power trio stretching their noisy legs, though with the recent departure of guitarist Hugo Mitre, the remaining duo of Israel Beltrán and Pablo Montoya have pivoted into zooming, riotous punk. Stand out cuts from this new chapter include “Ojalá Tocara en Sonic Youth” (or “I Wish I Played in Sonic Youth”) and “Pdv” (which can be cheekily read as “Punk de Verdad” or “Pasado de Verga”)—irreverent, white-knuckle anthems inspiring an even younger generation of screamers including Bridch and Gratis.
Nico Orozco
Culiacán crooner Nico Orozco made a splash throughout the ‘10s as the frontman for blistering metalcore band From Alaska, before going solo to craft cinematic folk and corridos. Funnily enough, some of his closest collaborators, including Erik Canales and Andrés Canalla, got their start in the Mexican punk scene with storied bands Allison and Tungas, respectively. But for Orozco, the end of his band was an opportunity to go back to basics, affording himself the luxury of stopping to smell the roses on tracks like “El Camino” and “El Río.” While Orozco poured these new introspections into his dreamy 2022 solo debut, Lo Que Soy, his cheeky 4/20-friendly crossover with George Roads on “Un Gallito” also showcased his more playful sensibilities.
Canela
Canela’s 2023 debut album Morres used a breezy palette of surf and garage as a backdrop for the charming preoccupations that accompany the journey into adulthood. The surf-y tedium of “Universidad,” the wind-in-your-hair delight of driving into the night with friends on “Bart Simpson!,” and the simple stoner pleasures of “Mota & Cheetos” conjure burning nostalgia for a time before rent was due on the 1st of every month.
