Latinos in Coachella 2025 and artists who inspire

This year at Coachella, Latino artists performed all three days. From Arca, Judeline and Rawayana, it was the latter that I was able to fit in our schedule. We also knew that The Marias and Junior H were gonna be top priority. Some Latinos at Coachella also added to their list the L.A. Philharmonic’s Gustavo Dudamel, Thee Sacred Souls and even Los Mirlos, the Peruvian cumbia band. 

These artists were also  top priority: Lady Gaga, Charli XCX, T-Pain, Megan Thee Stallion, KNEECAP, Kraftwerk and Missy Elliot. 

Day 1 - Joy and resistance

We woke up ready for Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta, who we know and recognize and love as Lady Gaga. 

As I got ready however, I woke up to the news that U.S. Senator Chris Van Hollen had travelled to El Salvador to meet with a wrongfully deported man in his district by the name of Kilmar Armando Abrego Garcia.

As an immigrant, I decided then that this Coachella would be more fun than the last. Not because it could be my last in this country but because I knew I deserved joy and refused to live in fear when I was going to enjoy art and music with the people I love the most. 

As we arrived at the festival, our first artist was Southern California’s Thee Sacred Souls which has Black and brown band members and represents the legacy of oldies soulful sounds that resonate across many Latino generations. For my partner Victoria and I, the songs have also been the soundtrack to our relationship of almost three years, the same amount of time since their first EP so as we stepped on to the Mainstage for the first time at the festival, it was surreal to experience some our favorite songs for the first time live together. 

We then headed over to see The Go-Go’s, the iconic all-female band from Los Angeles who in the early 1980s made history as the first—and still only—female band to top the Billboard album charts by writing their own songs and playing their own instruments. As lifelong Angelenos, it was powerful to see how their legacy lives on in today’s music festival culture. Songs like “Our Lips Are Sealed” and “Vacation” still hit hard, not just as fun sing-alongs, but as reminders of how women, especially women in punk and rock, carved out space in a music industry that didn’t often make room for them. For many Latinas and queer fans in the audience, including my partner and I, The Go-Go’s weren’t just a nostalgic act—they were icons of liberation, defiance and fun.

A special place for us is the Sonora Tent where we went after The Go-Go’s, curated by Pomona’s René Contreras, who has been booking the tent since 2018. 

As the founder of Viva! Pomona and a champion for emerging and independent artists, René has transformed the Sonora Stage into a haven for global, punk and alternative sounds—often serving as a landing pad for acts that speak directly to the diasporas, disillusioned youth and politically conscious festivalgoers.

We arrived right at the top of KNEECAP’s set, the Belfast-based Irish rap trio who unapologetically blend Gaelic and English in their lyrics while delivering a sharp, rebellious critique of colonialism, gentrification and American imperialism. 

What struck me was not just the crowd’s excitement but their attentiveness. Here was a packed room of mostly Latino and mixed audience members—cheering, nodding, and reacting to lyrics about occupation and resistance. It was a reminder that across oceans and borders, music becomes a shared language of struggle. KNEECAP’s set made it clear that for many of us, joy and resistance aren’t separate—they’re intertwined.

That’s the magic of the Sonora Tent. Whether it’s punk from South America, experimental beats from North Africa, or a surprise appearance from a political streamer, it always manages to hold space for those of us who want to dance and dissent at the same time. That is the magic of Latino music curators like René Contreras.

After the rush of KNEECAP, we drifted toward the outside stages and found ourselves in the warped, glittery world of A.G. Cook. Known for co-founding the PC Music label and working closely with Charli XCX, his set felt like stepping into a digital fever dream—hyperpop bliss cut with industrial breaks and a kind of rave-in-your-bedroom intimacy. For many queer fans and Gen Z kids of color, his sound is a reminder that the future of music doesn’t have to look like the past. It can be messy, glitchy and radically fun.

Eyedress followed—a dreamy, lo-fi performance that pulled us in with his signature blend of shoegaze, punk and psych-pop. Watching a Filipino artist captivate such a wide audience at Coachella made me feel like the borders of who gets to belong on a stage like this are finally breaking. There’s something about his melancholy joy, the way he performs like he’s both healing and hurting, that hits especially deep under the desert sky.

We caught a bit of The Marías too, a band we’ve adored for years, and their soft, cinematic energy was the perfect palate cleanser before what came next.

Because then… we ran back to Sonora. For SPEED.

The Australian hardcore band turned the tent into a war zone in the best way. Bodies flying, fists in the air and a pit that felt more like a spiritual reckoning than a mosh. I found myself near the side, handed Victoria my phone and decided to rush the stage and jump.

I launched myself into the crowd—arms wide, heart pounding, trusting total strangers to catch me. And they did. In that moment, sweaty and airborne, I felt more free than I had in months. There’s something healing about chaos, about letting go in a room full of people who are all doing the same.

As soon as I found my partner, I knew it was time to get ready for Missy Elliott at the Main Stage and situate ourselves in a good place for Lady Gaga. Missy, as expected, was a masterclass in performance—reminding us that hip-hop has always been in conversation with queer culture, dance and futurism. It was the perfect warm-up, the kind that primes your body and spirit for something bigger.

Then came Gaga

As the lights dimmed and the opening visuals started, I looked around and noticed something that filled me with both pride and awe—almost everyone around us was Latino. Brown faces with glitter, in Dodger and Mexico jerseys, wearing homemade “Free Palestine” shirts or leather bodysuits and fishnets. People who, like us, grew up in households that may not have always understood our queerness, our art, our loudness—but who found in Gaga a kind of refuge.

Her music has long resonated with Latino audiences, not just because of the beats or the fashion, but because of the message: you were born this way, you are enough and your pain can become power.For so many queer, trans, and working-class Latinos, Gaga was the first mainstream artist who didn’t just accept us—she celebrated us. She showed us that weirdness could be sacred, that emotion could be radical and that pop could also be protest.

Her performance, already being hailed by outlets like Rolling Stone and Billboard as one of the most iconic returns to the Coachella stage in recent memory, reminded us why she remains a generational artist. Critics praised not just the precision of her vocals or the theatricality of the visuals, but the emotional range she brought to the set—balancing old hits with a raw vulnerability that felt deeply in step with where so many of us are today.

We left the festival grounds that night feeling cracked open—in the best way. Gaga had given us everything, and somehow, we still had two more days of music, dancing, and self-discovery ahead.

Day 2 

We kicked things off with T-Pain, who brought an energy that was both nostalgic and fresh. From the moment he stepped on stage, it was clear this wasn’t going to be some throwback set—it was a celebration of a legacy. His voice, still sharp and full of soul, cut through the desert heat like a party you didn’t want to end. Every song was a reminder of where we were when we first heard it—house parties, long drives, high school dances—and yet, surrounded by fans new and old, it felt totally present.

And again, we noticed who was around us: mostly Latino fans, singing along to every word, dancing like the weekend had just begun. T-Pain, who’s long embraced collaboration and genre-crossing, reminded us that joy and rhythm are universal—and that sometimes, starting the day with a little autotune magic is exactly what the body needs.

We then made our way to the Outdoor Theatre for a performance that was both unexpected and unforgettable: the Los Angeles Philharmonic, conducted by Gustavo Dudamel. This marked the orchestra's Coachella debut and Dudamel's final season with the L.A. Phil.

The set opened with Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries,” enveloping the crowd in a powerful wave of sound. The performance featured an eclectic mix of iconic orchestral pieces and surprise guest appearances, including Cynthia Erivo delivering a rousing cover of “Purple Rain.”

From there, we headed directly to the main stage for Charli XCX, who delivered a high-energy set dominated by tracks from her highly influential album “Brat.” Experiencing such diverse performances in a single day—from the classical grandeur of the L.A. Phil to the hyperpop energy of Charli XCX—epitomizes what Coachella is all about. For us, as Latino artists and fans, this juxtaposition also reflects the multifaceted nature of our identities.​

This seamless integration of different musical styles and cultures at Coachella not only enhances the festival experience but also resonates deeply with the diverse backgrounds of its attendees.​

We knew that by heading to Charli XCX, we’d be missing Iván Cornejo—a tough decision, especially knowing how deeply his music resonates with young Latino audiences. His songs of heartbreak and longing are the soundtrack for so many in our community, and his presence at Coachella this year was a powerful reminder of how regional Mexican music continues to evolve and claim space.

But for us, Charli was non-negotiable. Her music has shaped the way my partner Vickie and I understand performance, identity and the freedom that comes with embracing the weird, the loud and the unapologetically pop. Her impact on Latino fans isn’t always as loudly celebrated, but it’s real—especially for queer and alternative Latinos who see themselves reflected in her experimental sound and DIY ethos. Choosing Charli wasn’t choosing against Cornejo—it was choosing a different kind of healing. One just as necessary.

After Charli’s electrifying set, we made a quick dash back to the Outdoor Stage for Clairo—an artist who, while not Latina, has long inspired me as a writer. There’s a quiet intensity to her music, a poetic restraint that says so much with so little. Watching her perform under the dusky desert sky, I was reminded of the power of subtlety, of crafting emotion without spectacle. 

After Charli and Clairo, we grabbed a couple pizza slices and let Green Day’s set soundtrack our walk across the field. Their classics rang out like a time capsule of resistance and critical thought—familiar and energizing. 

We then caught the first two songs from Misfits—iconic, loud, and full of raw punk power—but our hearts were craving something more mellow to close the night. That’s when we wandered toward Rawayana, and it was the best decision we could’ve made. Their set was warm, vibey and overflowing with soul. It was the perfect cool-down to a day that had taken us through so many emotional and sonic landscapes.

Day 3

Vickie, her cousin and I caught the beginning of Circle Jerks. I didn’t dive in this time, but the mosh pit called to me like a primal force, and I gave in—lost in the rhythm, surrounded by the energy of everyone around me. 

As the night carried on, we left the Sonora Tent and headed to catch the beginning of Rema’s set. His fusion of Afrobeats and global sounds lit up the crowd, drawing people from all corners of the festival. Rema’s popularity is undeniable, and seeing how his music crosses borders while uplifting African influences in a space like Coachella felt like witnessing a cultural shift in real time.

Next, we made our way to Junior H. His presence at Coachella was a celebration of regional Mexican music’s ongoing evolution. For many of the Latino fans in the crowd, his corridos are more than just songs—they’re stories that speak to the complexities of our shared experiences. Junior H brings a modern twist to a traditional sound, and his impact on the younger generations of Latinos, especially those navigating their identity between old and new, was clear.

Megan Thee Stallion followed, and the energy shifted immediately. Her set, full of unapologetic empowerment and swagger, was not just a performance—it was a movement. What was most striking, however, was the sea of Latina fans around us, singing every word. Megan’s music transcends race, but in that moment, it felt like she was speaking directly to Latinas who have been craving representation in rap and hip-hop for years. Her music, her confidence, her energy—so much of it resonated with our community in ways that felt personal, liberating and empowering.

From the power of Megan, we made our way to Kraftwerk, the legendary electronic pioneers whose influence on music has spanned decades. Their set was a masterclass in minimalist sound and innovation, a tribute to how art, technology, and the future are intertwined. Watching them perform in a sea of people who, too, recognized their status as icons was a reminder of Coachella's ability to pay homage to both the past and future of music.

Finally, we ended the night with Polo & Pan, whose melodic, sun-soaked rhythms provided the perfect cool-down after the intensity of the previous sets. The French duo’s laid-back beats felt like a collective exhale, a reminder that music doesn’t always have to be fast or loud to be powerful. Their set was a reflection of the diverse musical tapestry Coachella has come to represent, offering something soothing and introspective after a day of high-energy performances.

What is Coachella to Latinos?

In many ways, our experience at Coachella mirrored the broader journey of being a Latino artist in today’s world—multifaceted, complex, and ever-evolving. 

For us, Coachella 2025 was about more than just seeing our favorite acts—it was about experiencing the full spectrum of what it means to be a Latino in a constantly shifting world of music, art and culture. The festival gave us permission to explore the edges of who we are, while never losing sight of where we come from. 

As we looked around at the faces of Latino fans, from the front row to the Ferris wheel, we realized that this festival, this moment, was a reflection of all the ways our identities have been shaped by the music we love—and all the ways those identities continue to evolve.

As we reflect on the entire weekend, one performance continued to stand out—Lady Gaga. Though she was the closer on Day 1, for us, it was the most impactful set of the weekend. For many of us—Latino or not—she’s been there through the highs and lows, her music a constant companion in the process of self-discovery and growth. For my partner Vickie and me, it felt like a full-circle moment, revisiting the energy she brings in a way that made us feel seen, powerful, and understood, even when it felt like the world was trying to pull us apart.

Her set wasn’t just a performance—it was a declaration, a reclamation of joy and identity, and a reminder of the power of music in tough times. There were tears in the eyes of those around us, and I saw Latino fans in the crowd singing every word to "Born This Way" as if it were their own anthem. Even for those who couldn’t make it to the festival, Gaga’s presence on the livestream resonated deeply. 

Looking back at Coachella 2025, it was clear that the festival is a place where music transcends boundaries. From the Latinx artists who continue to shape the future of music to the international stars like Gaga, who remind us of the universal power of expression, the festival felt like a celebration of all the different ways we find ourselves reflected in the music we love. 

Coachella 2025 was a reminder that our identities are fluid, that we are constantly evolving, but that we are always anchored by the music we love. It was a celebration not only of the artists we’ve grown up with but also of the ones pushing the boundaries of what it means to be an artist in a changing world. For us, for Latinos, for everyone in between, it was a festival of connection, of joy, and most importantly, of being seen.