Lara Fernández Castrelo is doing her makeup beneath a chandelier. We’re at Soho House in the West Village, minutes before the 21-year-old Spanish singer—who performs and releases music as Judeline—plays an intimate private showcase, her first New York City show. Judeline’s stoicism clashes with the rushed click-clack of her nude-colored acrylic nails, adorned with spiked rings, as she pokes around a makeup kit. “I’m feeling calm, if I’m honest,” she tells me between applying lipstick and mascara. “If it was a show show, I’d probably be nervous, but I’m among friends in a small room, so I feel fine.”
It wasn’t always solo showcases in posh New York enclaves, collaborations with reggaeton heavyweight Tainy, opening for J Balvin on his Eurotour, or being spotted front row at Palomo Spain’s NYFW runway for Judeline. Before moving to Madrid to pursue music, the experimental newcomer was another girl from Cádiz. Born to a mother from flamenco’s birthplace Jerez de la Frontera and a father raised in Venezuela, between Puerto Ordaz and the capital city of Caracas, Judeline grew up in the small seaside village of Los Caños de Meca. This small stretch of beach in the Southern Spanish province, where silence is punctuated by the hum of Moroccan radio, came to deeply inform Judeline’s practice.
Judeline first popped up in early 2020 on “Solo Quiero Huir” (“I Just Want To Run Away”), a downtempo reflection on escapism dusted heavily with Auto-Tune and produced by Trillfox, shortly before the first COVID outbreak. A string of singles followed leading up to her first EP, de la luz (of the light), an ode to her hometown that reflects on heartbreak and isolation to the tune of pared-down electropop, house, and even the tonada, a Venezuelan folk genre popularized by Simon Díaz. Early track “tonada de la luz • madrugada” sees her collaborate with her father on the Venezuelan cuatro, a small guitar not unlike the ukulele.
“My dad would show me Venezuelan music on CDs, a lot of traditional and ‘80s pop like Medio Evo, in the car when I was small, and we were always in the car because [Caños de Meca] isn’t really connected to schools or hospitals or grocery stores. [Caños] being such a small village meant I spent a lot of time bored and alone. I was very inspired by the sea; sometimes it felt like a person,” she muses. “Whenever I’m lost or in a bad moment, I can go near the sea and feel that connection.”
She’s coy when asked about further diving into Venezuela’s rich musical history, speaking carefully but excited about the possibilities of tapping into her roots with experimental flair. “I honestly really want to,” she says. ”I feel like people will hear what I make and maybe be like ‘that’s not a joropo [Venezuela’s most popular folk rhythm]’, but in the end they’re genres I’ve listened to a lot. Sometimes my dad accompanies me on the cuatro and the bandola, and it’s special.”
Outside of the Venezuelan music she grew up with, Judeline has been playing with El Movimiento’s signature sound: the dembow beat. At the end of 2022, she released “TÁNGER” and “ZAHARA,” the latter of which went viral. This love story in two parts—a floaty ballad about pining for a bad boy on the shores of Tangier and a perreo track full of longing to live with him in a house by the sea—sees Judeline embody a tortured muse plotting to break her lover out from behind bars. On her man’s shady business dealings, she sings with loyal resolve: “Tengo bien guardado lo que se cayó / Solo lo sabemos Dios, el mar, y yo” (“What fell away, I’m keeping close / That’s for me, God, and the sea to know.”)
“ZAHARA” blew like a desert wind through the Latin Club scene, soon being mixed and remixed by acts like Miami producer Nick León and Chilean-Swedish DJ Dinamarca. With her star rising parallel to Spain’s new avant-garde, artists like Rusia IDK’s Ralphie Choo and rusowsky as well as acts like former collaborator Oddliquor, Judeline found herself propped up in both the Spanish and Latinx undergrounds. More dives into South American and Caribbean genres followed with preceding singles “CANIJO,” a baile funk-tinged party starter about toxic love, and sultry downtempo reggaeton track “2+1,” an ode to threesomes that puts Britney Spears’ “3” to shame and features emerging reggaetonero Alvaro Díaz’s distorted voice on the hook. Judeline even covered Shakira’s first foray into reggaeton, “La Tortura,” becoming the first Spanish artist to appear on the Spotify Singles series.
“I feel like Puerto Rico is where the fathers of reggaeton came from. Most everything I’ve learned about the genre has come out of Puerto Rico,” she says. “I’ve always been a fan of J. Balvin and Tainy, artists who you can tell were inspired by what was happening in the U.S. and brought it to the genre, things like synthesizers and Auto-Tune. Even the samples Tainy uses…I feel like I’ve come to know reggaeton as a curious and advanced genre.”
The unique cultural makeup of Cádiz—with its famous Moorish alcazar, with its echoes of Arab-Andalusian culture playing alongside Spanish Catholic aesthetics—and its quiet way of life have been a steady guide for Judeline as she’s found her artistic voice and its visual direction. The Nono + Rodrigo-directed video for single “mangata,” a track sonically built from a deep house beat and bolstered by chanting that calls to mind traditional Andalusian cante jondo (“deep song”), moves from her bedroom (where mysterious cloaked figures watch over her) to the rave and, finally, the sea. In the haunting final shot, Judeline pleads directly with the gods of the ocean, who shine moonlight on her as she wades the deep.
She continues to explore this world of underground parties, mysterious cloaked figures, sea gods, and Catholic mysticism on “INRI.” Rather than be weighed down by its name’s religious connotation, “INRI” sees Judeline seduce a potential love to the tune of flamenco handclaps and an Arabic pop-inspired beat. The accompanying video, shot in mosques and churches, syncretizes the sonic duality with visuals that draw from mysticism. At one point, Judeline sings to her reflection in a pool while donning a crown of thorns, evoking both Jesus Christ and the Hermetic magical principle of “as above so below.” Latest single “Zarcillos de Plata”, a touching ballad to a lover and the nightstand they share, shows a softer side. Judeline’s mystical bombast is tempered by an Auto-Tuned croon that stretches between earthly desire and communing with the divine.
“I have such a desire to experiment with my voice in this new era,” she says. “‘mangata’ has those choirs that remind me a bit of llaneros. I’ve felt the influence of flamenco as much as música llanera and joropos. [Venezuelan] music makes me feel that same solitude flamenco does, these super intimate moments.”
As she gears up to release her debut album later this year via Interscope, Judeline is continuing to build on what she’s laid a foundation for since moving to Madrid from Caños de Meca. Working with longtime producers Tuiste and Mayo and continuing to refine a proven ear for mixing multiple genres with high concepts, Judeline’s world—where bikers break our hearts on the beach before riding off, where we pine under the pale moonlight before getting on late-night flights to Puerto Rico, where spellcraft exists in the churchyard and the sea—slowly becomes reality.
“I’d love to position myself a bit, hopefully influence future generations or feel like I’m creating in a way that would inspire,” she admits. “I want to feel proud of what I made when I look back on it in a few years. I’m not quite sure what I’m manifesting [with this album], but I’m really happy with the result. I think it’s going to be beautiful. Above all, I’ve learned what I want and what I don’t want in the process of making an album for the future. I want to keep learning and trusting in what the universe wants for me.”
The interview was conducted in Spanish, with quotes translated and edited for clarity.