Mexican

Growing up, Alejandra Villarreal was accustomed to the dry Mexican heat, trapped inside the small historic venues where she and her sisters would perform as kids. But as temperatures hit 103 degrees outside the Fonda Theatre in Hollywood, she couldn’t help but shout.

“¡Ay, qué calor!” she said, swinging her bass guitar.

Inside the nearly 100-year-old theater, Alejandra was onstage for a sound check. She ran through distorted, metal-influenced riffs as her sisters — drummer Paulina Villarreal and lead vocalist-guitarist Daniela Villarreal — prepared for the second of three sold-out shows at the Fonda, as the rapidly rising rock band the Warning.

The Warning has been shaking the walls of L.A. theaters since the group first landed in the city eight years ago — but this year feels especially monumental for the sisters.

Released in August, the band’s most recent album, “Everything’s Falling,” is a snarling, noisy and melodic rock joyride that rarely, if ever, slows down.

Written between L.A. and their hometown of Monterrey, the straight-to-the point lyricism documents the Villarreal sisters’ frustrations, anger and failures — most fiercely on “Kerosene,” which lambasts a jealous critic who “falls asleep with me on your screen,” so sings Daniela.

“Kerosene” recently shot up to the No.1 spot on the Billboard Mainstream Rock Airplay chart, which made the Warning the first Mexican and first all-female band to make the spot. Another single, their Spanish-language anthem “Ego,” was nominated for rock song at the 2026 Latin Grammys.

Members of the Warning hold up Billboard No. 1 awards after performing at the Fonda Theatre.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

The legend of the Warning began in 2014, when Alejandra was just 9 years old and Paulina and Daniela were 12 and 14, respectively. The sisters came home from a Sunday carne asada with their family — and recorded a righteous cover of Metallica’s “Enter Sandman.”

Dressed in floral blouses and white capris, the girls thundered through the song with a focus and technical ability that sparked the interest of audiences worldwide — earning them a current total of 27 million views, not to mention praise from Metallica guitarist Kirk Hammett.

“We were wearing our sandalias, our church clothes,” Paulina said. “It’s just pretty crazy to think that one random Sunday afternoon we recorded that and it jump-started our whole career.”

The idea for the group came from playing the video game “Rock Band,” which led the sisters to performing at local “Battle of the Bands” competitions and posting cover songs to YouTube.

But the success of the “Enter Sandman” cover changed the course of their lives, taking them from local venues like Cafe Iguana — or, as Paulina calls it, “Monterrey’s Whisky a Go Go” — to appearing on the Ellen DeGeneres Show and various international music festivals.

“We started having adult responsibilities way early in our lives,” Paulina said. “We didn’t have that [average] teenage experience at all.”

“We didn’t go to normal school, we didn’t go and hang out with other teenagers,” she continued. “We were mostly hanging out with adults like our parents, [or] on tour and working. So there was this huge disparity between what our friends were living through and what we were going through.”

Over the course of its 13-year career, the Warning has opened for acts ranging from the Foo Fighters to Yungblud, writing and recording tirelessly in between. Now that the bandmates are all in their 20s, they say they “wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“When I was 10, I was like, ‘This is what I’m going to do for the rest of my life,’” Alejandra said. “I guess I did miss out on high school and ‘the norm.’ But honestly, I’m very grateful that we did this.”

In “Everything’s Falling,” the Warning contends with self-imposed songwriting limits that boxed them in as children — and tear down old personas to reveal their continuous, however imperfect, process of growth.

“All of our lives, we felt like we needed to sound a certain way,” said Alejandra. “English is not our first language, so we always found ourselves using really complex words — so that people would say, ‘They know the language.’ The lyrics of this album are very straightforward. We don’t have anything to prove anymore. It was a very liberating album to make.”

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(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

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(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

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(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

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(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

The group’s highly technical progressive rock style, influenced early on by bands like Muse, Metallica and Paramore, brought it a legion of Gen X fans who admired the sisters’ dedication to shredding, mathematical guitar solos and classical training base.

On their latest album, the sisters introduce new levels of fuzz and overdrive that blur their usually crisp instrumentals, plus verses that “lean into femininity” and take inspiration from a source that may surprise some: K-pop.

The rising global genre, known for its catchy harmonies and bouncing performance style, inspired the sisters to bring pop elements to their recording sessions.

“We love getting inspired outside of our genre,” Paulina said. “I think what happens a lot in rock is that, it’s very purista [purist]. Especially as women, whatever you do is very scrutinized. So if you ever step out of those confines it’s like, ‘Well [if] you’re not rock, you shouldn’t even be participating.’”

The sisters’ desire to defy expectations is most apparent in their jam-packed touring schedule.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

“I fainted onstage [in July], and it was very dramatic,” recalled Paulina. “More than it being scary, I think people for the first time realized how hard we work. People were like, ‘Oh, your team is pushing you too hard.’”

“Nobody’s forcing us to be here,” she added, resolutely. “We’re grown women. We know what we’re doing and we know how much we can take.”

Daniela, the lead vocalist, had come down with a cold during the group’s L.A. shows, which required her to step back from interviews to rest her voice. The first night, she sang through the entire setlist, screaming and all — but by the third, she could only perform a few songs. Rather than cancel the concert, the Warning insisted that the show go on.

A la Karen Carpenter, Paulina sang lead vocals from behind the drum kit, calling on the crowd to clap and sing along to the music. They also brought out fans and collaborators to help them perform, including songwriter Annie Schindel, as well as rock acts Holy Wars and Dead Poet Society.

“We push forward through a lot of bad experiences,” Alejandra said. “One time I felt like I was dying — and that was the one of the few times we canceled a show. We only do it in extreme measures, because we know how much planning a show takes.”

One could blame it on the “Mexican work ethic,” they said.

Before taking on Hollywood, the sisters joined regional Mexican artist Carín León on the first night of his sold-out weekend at the Sphere in Las Vegas: the first time a Latin artist had ever headlined the venue. The band released the bluesy rock single “Love to be Loved” earlier this year with the Sonora native, recalling the first time they played it together “a highlight of our lives.”

“[Even if] we do our own thing in a different genre, we still shared that pride because of where we come from,” Paulina said. “Everything about that show was so Mexican … The unity, the community that we have outside of our country. Hopefully the people that went there felt how special it was.”

“I cried,” Alejandra added. “[Watching Carín perform], it was emotional.”

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

A week later, at the Fonda, they smiled as fans launched into chants like “Olé, Olé, Olé” and “Viva Mexico.” The line had been forming since 3 p.m., and once the show had begun, the Warning transformed from jovial 20-somethings to well-seasoned professionals.

“I feel like there will be a very clear change in what we do, ‘Everything’s Falling’-forward,” Paulina said. “I feel like we really allowed ourselves to be more emotional in the music and these shows, and that feels really powerful.”

Said Alejandra: “We opened Pandora’s box.”

Long gone are the days of Mexican Americans’ alienation from Mexico — at least, if the Mexican government can help it.

On Sunday, hundreds of spectators gathered inside the Orpheum Theatre in downtown Los Angeles to watch the United States semifinals for “México Canta,” a binational music competition for rising artists from the U.S. and Mexico, organized by the latter’s Ministry of Culture.

Seven participants of Mexican descent from across the U.S. braved the stage with original songs, in what can only be described as a heartfelt singing contest, without the scorn of nitpicky judges or behind-the-scenes melodrama, but rather a zealous crowd made up of all age groups.

Voting was handed over to the public, as the segment broadcast live on public television across the United States and Mexico. Over 300,000 individuals tuned in to cast a vote to advance the top three contestants: Tiffany Galaviz, Joshua Soto and Rosalba Valdez. They will go on to compete in the grand finale of México Canta on Sept. 13 at the Auditorio Nacional in Mexico City for a chance at a record deal.

“There’s always that saying that if you’re Mexican American, you’re not Mexican enough, but I think that’s wrong,” said 18-year-old Soto, a Bronx native whose musical theater background and deep R&B groove gave depth to the bilingual country-corrido “Terco Callejero.”

“Ever since I was little, my parents always showed me my culture, my roots. It’s in my blood. It’s in the traditions that I follow and the music that I listen to every day,” added Soto, who is enrolled in New York University’s vocal performance program in music theater.

For 27-year-old semifinalist Valdez — a Chicagoan whose signature red hair and bedazzled fringe fit distinguished her onstage, as she sang her merengue-infused tune “Por Bonita” — being Mexican American is both a huge privilege and responsibility.

“When I was younger, I used to think the opposite, because of what our community went through,” said Valdez. “Now I see it as a superpower. [Being Mexican American is] something that I want more people to understand has power. We can create a lot of change when we realize the power that we have.”

Over 300,000 individuals tuned in live to cast a vote for the top three contestants: Joshua Soto, Tiffany Galaviz and Rosalba Valdez

(Ronaldo Bolanos / Los Angeles Times)

Speaking to The Times, Mexico Secretary of Culture Claudia Curiel de Icaza, stressed the importance of binational programming — adding that she believed that the singing contest can unite young people across the U.S.-Mexico border.

“We cannot think that we are merely divided by territory. Culture transcends borders, music transcends borders,” she said. “We are separated, but ultimately there is an extremely intimate and rich cultural development because culture has been the space of resistance, of resilience.”

As host and singer, Majo Aguilar — granddaughter of Mexican film and music legends Antonio Aguilar and Flor Silvestre — ushered vocalists on and off the stage. Large screens lit up with educational stories of the legacy of Mexican nationals, such as Pedro J. González, one of the first Spanish radio broadcasters in the U.S.

The show also paid homage to American-born individuals who have elevated Mexican music: including Texas-born Gloria Ríos, who helped pioneer rock ’n’ roll in Mexico in 1956 and Arizona-born Linda Ronstadt, whose 1987 album “Canciones de Mi Padre” became the bestselling non-English language record in U.S. history.

This year, the contest placed an emphasis on música mexicana. According to Spotify, global streams of the genre have grown by 295% since 2021; in the U.S. alone, its popularity has grown by 162% since 2021.

In large part, its popularity has been driven by corrido tumbados, or songs which blend traditional Mexican folk with trap, often underscoring street life, “the hustle” and the riches that can follow.

Its most prominent acts include Junior H, Fuerza Regida and Peso Pluma. These were the biggest streaming Latin musicians in the U.S. in 2024, just below reggaeton superstar Bad Bunny — yet none of these popular música mexicana artists were recognized during the competition.

“Mexican music is among the most consumed worldwide and it’s a matter of choosing a genre where young people feel identified and music that transcends borders,” said Curiel de Icaza. “And no, we are not censoring it.”

México Canta began in 2025 as state-sponsored programming to promote musical narratives beyond themes of violence and drug-trafficking.

Besides banning the use of artificial intelligence and other audio alterations, the contest did not permit “songs that glorify violence or drug use.” Failure to comply with the rules would result in disqualification for contestants.

“More than banning, it’s about educating, guiding, and getting young people to stop listening to that music,” President Claudia Sheinbaum said in a news conference last year when the program was first introduced.

President of Mexico Claudia Sheinbaum speaks during the daily morning briefing at Palacio Nacional on Aug. 6, 2025, in Mexico City.

(Manuel Velasquez / Getty Images)

The singing competition comes at a time when 10 out of 32 Mexican states have implemented bans or limitations on corridos in public spaces; namely narcocorridos, or ballads that recount or glamorize elements of drug culture or organized crime.

Some lawmakers assert that the lyrics in these songs promote violence, including Mexico City lawmakers who, in May, passed a law barring the songs from being played at public events.

“The bans, which come amid President Trump’s hyper-focus on drug trafficking in Mexico, have sparked debates here about freedom of expression and state censorship and have raised provocative questions: Do narcocorridos merely reflect reality in a nation gripped by powerful drug gangs? Or do they somehow shape it?” wrote Times correspondent Kate Linthicum in a May 2025 article.

In May, the second edition of México Canta was announced during Sheinbaum’s daily news conference, generating online buzz when famed corrido tumbado singer Junior H vocalized support for the contest — while also lamenting his past musical choices.

“In my initial [career], some of the stories that I shared in my music didn’t add to the positive message that reflect my current compositions,” said Junior H, whose real name is Antonio Herrera Pérez, in the news conference. “I kept growing and I learned that music, besides being a form of expression, also implies a responsibility when millions of people hear you worldwide.”

The 25-year-old rose to fame through popular narcocorridos such as 2023’s “El Azul,” which is believed to be about Sinaloan drug lord Juan Jose Esparragoza Moreno; as well as his 2022 banda-fused track, “El Hijo Mayor,” which some speculate to be about the son of Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán.

“When you grow up, you have a career path and you see that you have an impact on young people, you start to mature and evolve your career,” Curiel de Icaza said of Junior H. “And you realize you want to go in a different direction, that’s when he understood and decided that it was better to focus on something else.”

During the news conference, Sheinbaum denounced the idea that the music contest was a form of censorship. Curiel de Icaza also refuted those claims: “We’re not prohibiting anything. Music will continue to exist, different voices exist and we’re not prohibiting or censoring songs.”

To help amplify the values of México Canta, organizers enlisted the help of Los Tigres del Norte, one of the most successful regional Mexican acts in the U.S. The night before the semifinals in L.A., Los Tigres performed with Gustavo Dudamel at the Hollywood Bowl.

The band closed Sunday’s competition with a performance of “México Sigue De Pie,” a new song that underscores the grit of the Mexican community. “They’re legendary,” Curiel de Icaza said of the band.

Coincidentally, the esteemed guests were early pioneers of narcocorridos: including their 1974 song “Contrabando y Traición,” which details a fictional drug trade tale of Emilio Varela and Camelia la Texana, as well as their 1978 track “La Banda del Carro Rojo,” which describes cocaine trafficking across the state lines.

But over the last decade, the band, too, has been advised by concert organizers in Mexico to avoid playing these types of songs when performing in certain venues, leading them to voice concern over the criticism of corridos — which they argue provide listeners with details over real-life truths, in the same way journalists engage in storytelling.

“We’re narrators of people’s lives,” bandleader Jorge Hernández told El País last year.