Exclusive Interview

May 16, 2025

Produced by: Rudy Manager

Edited by: Rudy Manager & Andrej Aroch

Soteldo – “I put my whole self into the music—my heart, my essence, my vibe, my vision”

From installing FL Studio on a government-issued school laptop in Venezuela to producing for global stars like Bad Bunny and Eladio Carrión, Soteldo has come a long way. In this exclusive interview with Studio Talks, the Latin Grammy–winning producer shares his journey through the music industry—from his early days crafting beats without internet access to building his independent label, 0295 Records. He opens up about the moment his sound caught Eladio Carrión’s attention, the story behind the hit “Ignorantes,” and the mindset that keeps him pushing boundaries in a constantly evolving industry. This interview was conducted by Rudy Manager via video call on May 10, 2025.


How did you first get interested in music, and how did that lead to music production?

Music is in my DNA—my father’s a musician, a piano player—so music has always been part of my life. But the way I got into music production is a bit of a story. A friend of mine had someone visiting from another state, and we were all just hanging out, talking about music, watching videos. At one point, he opened FL Studio, and as soon as I saw it, I fell in love. He gave me the software—put it on a USB drive for me—and when I got home, I installed FL Studio. That’s where the story really began.

When did this happen?

I think it was about 10 years ago—maybe even more. The story continues from there, though—it’s kind of wild. The Venezuelan government had some kind of deal with another country—I think it was Brazil or Portugal—and they were giving out computers for educational purposes. I got one of those computers, but I replaced the system with Windows. Then I put FL Studio on there and started working.

One of the first projects I worked on with that computer featured vocals from Big Soto and Trainer—hip-hop artists from my country who were just coming up at the time. Now they’re major artists, signed to labels like Rimas, Universal, and Warner. But back then, they were still on the rise. I believed in the vision of Latin trap early on, and some of those first songs we made came straight from that little government-issued computer. It’s crazy. They know the story—I told them.

Who were some of your first influences when you were just starting out with music?

My first big influence was Lex Luger—he’s like the father of trap—the GOAT. I was really falling in love with trap music back then, and he was the one doing it on that level. He had a huge impact on me.

Did you have any mentors or formal training, or are you mostly self-taught?

At the beginning of my career, I didn’t have internet—no YouTube, no tutorials, nothing. It was just me trying to make music on my own. Back then, I was basically just making noise—experimenting with sounds at home. I didn’t know about patterns, arrangements, or even how to play piano. I was just pushing buttons, creating sounds, trying things out. But I kept going, kept making music, and eventually I developed my own style—my own way of making music.

Later on, I did have a mentor. He’s called Héctor. He’s from Caracas, Venezuela, but at that time, he was living on Margarita Island. I was already decent at making beats, but he understood music better—he was a mixing engineer, a producer, a songwriter. I learned a lot just by watching him work.

I used to always show him my beats, like, “Bro, check this out.” He’d say, “It’s okay,” but then one day he said, “It’s okay, but listen to this.” And he played a Chris Brown song for me—an R&B track. That moment changed everything for me. I’d never really listened to new songs before—because I didn’t have internet—so I wasn’t influenced by what was happening in the industry or on the radio.

When I heard that Chris Brown track, I realized how producers in North America were building songs—so simple, so beautiful. Not a lot of elements—but everything was perfectly placed. That moment shifted my whole perspective on production. I knew he played me that song not to directly tell me to change, but to inspire me—like, “Look at this, this is the level.”

And it worked. I started producing with that new vision in mind, and my beats completely changed. After that, he told me, “You’re ready. You’re ready for the game.” And I was. He really got me ready.

Were you already listening to U.S. music before discovering that Chris Brown song?

Yeah, I was actually listening to a lot of Swae Lee—songs like “No Flex Zone,” “No Type,” and tracks like that. I didn’t have internet, so I downloaded a few songs, saved them in a folder, and listened to them on repeat. That was pretty much all I had access to. That definitely became part of my influence—especially the Mike WiLL Made-It sound. That had a big impact on me.

Who were some of the first artists or projects that you worked on?

The first project I worked on was with David Rone—an upcoming artist from Caracas, Venezuela. He sent me all his songs, and I really liked the melodies and the lyrics. But the beats he made—since he’s also a producer—I wasn’t really feeling. So I told him, “Send me the acapellas, and I’ll try something.”

At that time, I was still working on the Canaima—the computer the government gave me, the one I mentioned earlier. I worked on that whole project using that computer. And he loved it. I even helped him connect with a distribution company so he could start officially releasing his music. We just kept making tracks and pushing him to release his projects. We made it happen together.

Did you have any mentors or formal training, or are you mostly self-taught?

At the beginning of my career, I didn’t have internet—no YouTube, no tutorials, nothing. It was just me trying to make music on my own. Back then, I was basically just making noise—experimenting with sounds at home. I didn’t know about patterns, arrangements, or even how to play piano. I was just pushing buttons, creating sounds, trying things out. But I kept going, kept making music, and eventually I developed my own style—my own way of making music.

Later on, I did have a mentor. He’s called Héctor. He’s from Caracas, Venezuela, but at that time, he was living on Margarita Island. I was already decent at making beats, but he understood music better—he was a mixing engineer, a producer, a songwriter. I learned a lot just by watching him work.

I used to always show him my beats, like, “Bro, check this out.” He’d say, “It’s okay,” but then one day he said, “It’s okay, but listen to this.” And he played a Chris Brown song for me—an R&B track. That moment changed everything for me. I’d never really listened to new songs before—because I didn’t have internet—so I wasn’t influenced by what was happening in the industry or on the radio.

When I heard that Chris Brown track, I realized how producers in North America were building songs—so simple, so beautiful. Not a lot of elements—but everything was perfectly placed. That moment shifted my whole perspective on production. I knew he played me that song not to directly tell me to change, but to inspire me—like, “Look at this, this is the level.”

And it worked. I started producing with that new vision in mind, and my beats completely changed. After that, he told me, “You’re ready. You’re ready for the game.” And I was. He really got me ready.

Were you already listening to U.S. music before discovering that Chris Brown song?

Yeah, I was actually listening to a lot of Swae Lee—songs like “No Flex Zone,” “No Type,” and tracks like that. I didn’t have internet, so I downloaded a few songs, saved them in a folder, and listened to them on repeat. That was pretty much all I had access to. That definitely became part of my influence—especially the Mike WiLL Made-It sound. That had a big impact on me.

Who were some of the first artists or projects that you worked on?

The first project I worked on was with David Rone—an upcoming artist from Caracas, Venezuela. He sent me all his songs, and I really liked the melodies and the lyrics. But the beats he made—since he’s also a producer—I wasn’t really feeling. So I told him, “Send me the acapellas, and I’ll try something.”

At that time, I was still working on the Canaima—the computer the government gave me, the one I mentioned earlier. I worked on that whole project using that computer. And he loved it. I even helped him connect with a distribution company so he could start officially releasing his music. We just kept making tracks and pushing him to release his projects. We made it happen together.

Did you have any mentors or formal training, or are you mostly self-taught?

At the beginning of my career, I didn’t have internet—no YouTube, no tutorials, nothing. It was just me trying to make music on my own. Back then, I was basically just making noise—experimenting with sounds at home. I didn’t know about patterns, arrangements, or even how to play piano. I was just pushing buttons, creating sounds, trying things out. But I kept going, kept making music, and eventually I developed my own style—my own way of making music.

Later on, I did have a mentor. He’s called Héctor. He’s from Caracas, Venezuela, but at that time, he was living on Margarita Island. I was already decent at making beats, but he understood music better—he was a mixing engineer, a producer, a songwriter. I learned a lot just by watching him work.

I used to always show him my beats, like, “Bro, check this out.” He’d say, “It’s okay,” but then one day he said, “It’s okay, but listen to this.” And he played a Chris Brown song for me—an R&B track. That moment changed everything for me. I’d never really listened to new songs before—because I didn’t have internet—so I wasn’t influenced by what was happening in the industry or on the radio.

When I heard that Chris Brown track, I realized how producers in North America were building songs—so simple, so beautiful. Not a lot of elements—but everything was perfectly placed. That moment shifted my whole perspective on production. I knew he played me that song not to directly tell me to change, but to inspire me—like, “Look at this, this is the level.”

And it worked. I started producing with that new vision in mind, and my beats completely changed. After that, he told me, “You’re ready. You’re ready for the game.” And I was. He really got me ready.

Were you already listening to U.S. music before discovering that Chris Brown song?

Yeah, I was actually listening to a lot of Swae Lee—songs like “No Flex Zone,” “No Type,” and tracks like that. I didn’t have internet, so I downloaded a few songs, saved them in a folder, and listened to them on repeat. That was pretty much all I had access to. That definitely became part of my influence—especially the Mike WiLL Made-It sound. That had a big impact on me.

Who were some of the first artists or projects that you worked on?

The first project I worked on was with David Rone—an upcoming artist from Caracas, Venezuela. He sent me all his songs, and I really liked the melodies and the lyrics. But the beats he made—since he’s also a producer—I wasn’t really feeling. So I told him, “Send me the acapellas, and I’ll try something.”

At that time, I was still working on the Canaima—the computer the government gave me, the one I mentioned earlier. I worked on that whole project using that computer. And he loved it. I even helped him connect with a distribution company so he could start officially releasing his music. We just kept making tracks and pushing him to release his projects. We made it happen together.

What’s your process like when you open your DAW and start making music?

It’s interesting because all day, every day, I’m creating ideas in my mind. I wake up and already have an idea—like maybe I should make a certain kind of beat, try a different arrangement, or mix in another style of music. I’m constantly coming up with concepts in my head, ready to put them into the DAW.

Sometimes, I just open the DAW and start creating—without thinking, just letting the ideas flow. Honestly, I believe those ideas come from God. He sends me the inspiration, and I just start working. I’m not sitting there thinking, This has to be the biggest hit in the world—no, nothing like that. I just create.

Once I lay down the idea and build the beat, I might step away, make a coffee, and then come back to listen again. If I think it’s cool, I’ll start structuring the track. I keep it very simple. I don’t feel the need to make 10 beats in one session—if I make one really good beat, that’s enough. One good beat is all I need.

Do you follow a structure when you produce, or do you just go with what feels right?

It’s more about what comes to me. It’s simple—I don’t have a fixed structure or a set way of starting. It’s just me being a creative, an artist, and doing what I love. I put my whole self into the music—my heart, my essence, my vibe, my vision. That’s the best I can do.

More than anything, it’s about vision. All the time you spend studying the game and being immersed in it builds your vision—how you see things, how you bring things into your life and make them real. So for me, it’s not about following a formula. I just put all of myself into the creation.

Can you share the story of how the song “Ignorantes” by Bad Bunny and Sech came about?

That all happened through the internet. It was just a normal day—I was scrolling through Instagram stories. I saw an opportunity from a major company called Rimas. I found their email and sent them around 10 beats. They ended up choosing one of them—the one you asked me about, “Ignorantes.” They made the song with it—simple as that. All thanks to the internet. I wasn’t in the studio with Bad Bunny or the engineers—none of that.

Do you prefer working with artists in the studio or remotely from home?

I prefer working with artists in person, in the studio. I make better songs that way because I can understand the feeling the artist wants to express. It’s much easier—when the artist is right there, I can play loops, beats, or even just ideas, and we can go back and forth like, “I like this,” or “I don’t like that.” It’s a simple, natural process.

When I catch the right vibe, everything flows smoother. I have folders full of beats with specific colors or moods ready for different artists. So when it’s time to work, I’m ready. I always say, “Let’s work,” and pull up those beats. You always have to be ready for that moment.

Do you have a favorite track that you’ve made, and why?

My favorite one is “Ele Uve” by Eladio Carrión. That one’s my favorite forever. It was made during a tough time—we were in quarantine during COVID. It was just me and him, locked in an apartment in El Poblado, Medellín. We started making that kind of music—that specific “color” I gave him. And thank God I was able to give him exactly the vibe he needed at that moment. He really needed those beats—and that kind of sample.

I collaborated on that project with Santo, a producer signed to CashMoneyAP. He sent me some of the most amazing loops I’ve ever received—I loved the samples. I dropped the folder into the DAW and started clicking through. When Eladio heard something he liked, he’d say, “That one.” As soon as he connected with a loop, I’d load it into FL Studio, and he’d start doing the top line—mumbling melodies, building the vibe. He worked fast—so fast.

For me, he’s the best rapper, top-liner, and songwriter in the Latin scene. He’s a machine—seriously.

What are your goals for your music company, 0295 Records?

We’re independent. We don’t have a venture with a major label. I want to shift the way people see independent companies—because they always focus on the majors and rarely see the potential in the indies.

My goal is to bring a fresh perspective, especially by working with up-and-coming producers who already have major placements. For example, my producer Deibeatz—I helped him land two major placements. I want to build a strong catalog with all my producers so they can earn royalties, own their masters, and get paid.

The vision is to empower producers and prove we can do big things independently. We don’t need major labels to make an impact—but we’re open to working with them when it makes sense.

What is the vision for 0295 Records?

Impact. That’s the main goal—making an impact through the music we create. I want Billboard number ones with our producers, and eventually with artists too. Right now, I’m focused on producers—but the vision is bigger. I want to make a real impact on the music industry and help change things for the better.

A lot of companies offer deals that aren’t fair for producers or songwriters. I want to offer better options. When people work with me, they’re free—they’re part of the team, but not locked down.

I don’t want to follow the same industry formula—like the exclusive songwriter deals where they get an advance and never recoup. I want to build something different—something better—so we can change the way people see labels. I want people to say, “I want to sign with that label,” because they see the way we treat people and the amazing things we’re building.

Just the other day, a producer told me, “Bro, everything’s nice. I’m getting paid, I’m receiving my royalties, and the contract is good.” They speak well about my company. That’s impact. 

Can you share the story of how you first met Eladio Carrión and how you started working together?

It’s actually a funny story. On my birthday, I made an Instagram Story where I played a beat and wrote, “Eladio Carrión would kill this.” I also tweeted something like, “When I link up with Eladio Carrión, we’re going to change the game.” It was just a playful post—but he saw it.

He replied like, “Bro, that sounds crazy. I’m going to give you my number—but don’t give it to anyone. Just hit me.” So I started talking with him, and he mentioned he was coming to Medellín. I sent him a beat pack over WhatsApp like, “Bro, check these out.” He responded with fire emojis, but wasn’t saying when we were actually going to work.

So I asked him straight up, “Bro, you like my beats, but when are we going to work?” I was really eager—I wanted to make it happen. And he told me, “Relax, I just want to understand your sound, your color.”

He came to Medellín planning to do a music camp with a bunch of producers signed to his label. But because of the COVID quarantine, all those plans fell through. No one else could fly in, so it ended up being just me and him. And honestly, I’m super grateful for that.

We made music together and ended up creating what became an EP with five songs. Some of the most special tracks to me are “Ele Uve,” “Corona Freestyle” (I’m even in the video for that one), “Tu Amor,” and “Sin Ti.” Those songs really mean a lot to me.

I know he’s grateful too—he always talks about me. Whether he’s on Twitch, Kick, or in interviews, he mentions our work together. He’ll say stuff like, “When I was in Medellín, I made those songs with Soteldo—he’s hard.” He’s a real one. A good man.

What advice would you give to up-and-coming producers who want to level up and work with bigger artists?

Be prepared—have your beats ready, and focus on being the best at what you do. If you’re good at merengue, make the best merengue. If you’re good at trap, go hard with trap and get your beats placed.

Work with upcoming artists. Big names like Bad Bunny or Drake don’t need you—but an upcoming artist can change your life. You can create your own sound and vision together.

Start by writing songs, going to sessions, and understanding artists. That’s how you get ready for the next level. If the opportunity comes, are you really ready? Do you have 10 or more beats you could send today?

Also, try every possible route. If you know someone close to a big artist—their friend, road manager, or stylist—try sending beats through them. Don’t depend on just one connection.

And remember, how people present your beats matters. The introduction has to be right. It hits different when someone says, “Check out these beats from a multi-platinum, Grammy-winning producer who’s worked with Bad Bunny.” That hits different. So the people you work with, the team around you, the way you present yourself—it all matters. You have to bring real value to the project—that’s the key.

Where do you see yourself in five years—both personally and professionally?

My personal goal is to retire in three years and dedicate myself fully to my own label. I want to sign an artist when the time is right—someone who can be the face of the label and makes global music. That’s the vision. But right now, this is the time for producers.

My goal is to build the number one music company in Latin America—and take it worldwide. And it’s not just me. I have a team.  I have a publishing specialist, a lawyer, and a manager. And the best part is, they all understand the business and the way I want to move. I’m ready for what’s next.

This company means a lot to me—it’s not just business. It’s a way to change people’s lives. I don’t want to be the kind of CEO who signs people just to take from them. I want to help them grow.

For example, one of my producers is still working a regular job. And for me that’s not cool. He’s earning through placements and fees, and I told him, “Bro, let’s keep making music. If we land a big single, like what happened with me, it could change your life. I can help you get a deal, build your numbers, take it to the next level.”

So my goal is simple: help people, change lives, and make it happen—together.

Follow Soteldo on Instagram: @soteldobeats

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