Mauro Castillo (Cali, 46 years old) says that the story of his life should be titled From a casting open to Oscar. It is an option, but there are many headlines that serve to tell his path, sometimes not so direct, to the success he has today. From Cali to the Grammys. From military choir to Broadway. From the Universidad del Valle to the White House. The possibilities are plenty. The charismatic salsero, the first Afro-Latino to sing at the US president’s residence, says that his life has taken an unexpected turn in the last three years. He also clarifies that this is due to years of preparation. And, of course, to his leading role in the successful Disney film, Charm.
Since the cartoon that tells the story of a Colombian family was released in November 2021, Castillo has had opportunities that he never would have imagined. He has participated in forums on Latin culture at some of the best American universities, such as Princeton. She has had a song at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 for five consecutive weeks, We don’t talk about Bruno. He has received messages from all over Latin America thanking him for bringing Afro-Latinos to Hollywood, as he did as Félix Madrigal, a role he says was “a great responsibility.” Many things have changed, many doors have opened. However, Castillo insists that he has not stopped being what he has been for more than 20 years: an artist, a migrant and a nerd of the music.
The singer receives EL PAÍS one May afternoon in his studio in the Bogotá town of Chapinero, the same day he releases his new EP, Disappointments. She migrated to Florida (United States) years ago, but says he returns to Colombia at least once a month. He is a tall man, with broad shoulders. He wears an open button-down shirt, jeans, and black ankle-high boots. Surrounded by equipment that has recorded some of the most important salseros of all time – Joe Arroyo, Diomedes Díaz, Grupo Niche – he leans back in his chair and, letting out an infectious laugh from time to time, begins to tell the story of his life.
Growing up in Cali
His first memories are of Prados del Sur, the Cali neighborhood that his father built together with his neighbors: “The city didn’t help at all.” A teacher at a nearby school, his father had to put in the tubes, the water and self-manage so that they had services. That process had its challenges. Castillo remembers that every time it rained heavily, the drains would come out of a nearby canal and completely flood the neighborhood. “It was like having a swimming pool in my house. And also the floor was dirt, so every time the water got in we had to remove the roof so it could dry,” he says.
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When that happened, Castillo went to his grandparents’ house, in Cristóbal Colón, “a neighborhood of migrants from all over” on the other side of the south of the city. “There were people from the Colombian Caribbean, from Buenaventura, from Cauca, from Antioquia, from the Llanos, from Nariño. It was like a small Colombia in five or six blocks,” he says. There, in that crucible, he was exposed to music for the first time: “In December you would walk by and everyone would play music at full volume. So I listened to everything: vallenato, rock, salsa, marimba, party music. “It was always a very musical neighborhood, a neighborhood of music lovers.”
During those years it was already obvious that he had an innate talent. “I sang at the age of 10 in my neighbors’ houses on Mother’s Day. He was already signing autographs,” he remembers and bursts out laughing. However, it was only until he was 17, when he entered military service in the Police, that music took a leading role. He says it all started as an excuse: “I didn’t want to go horseback riding or watch traffic lights or anything. Then, someone came out saying they wanted to make a salsa band. I raised my hand and said ‘I sing’. I took the test and I stayed.”
It was in those days, singing salsa in the humble neighborhoods of Cali with a group of police officers, that he began to become passionate about the subject. She had a natural talent, but she didn’t know how to control it. He wanted to sing well. Then, he entered an academy where, accompanied by 7 and 8 year old children, he began to learn to read music. A few years later he was singing salsa throughout the city and studying classical music at the Universidad del Valle: “I wanted to sing salsa well. I had to learn to sing opera to be able to do it.”
That investment quickly paid off: by his early 20s he had already won two awards at the Petronio Álvarez Pacific Music Festival. And, at 24, days after winning that award for the third time, he received a call that changed his life forever: they invited him to be part of the legendary salsa combo Grupo Niche. He didn’t think twice. He packed his suitcase and went on tour around the world.
a professional artist
He remembers that his first concert was in Amsterdam and that his suitcase arrived on the plane. “I had to play in borrowed clothes,” she laughs. After that small setback, things began to go better and better: she became the leader of the group and recorded songs like Desire, which has millions of views on Spotify and YouTube. “Many singers passed through the group, but not all of them sang. For me it was an honor,” he says. She lasted five years with Niche. During that time, the US Government shortly after offered him residency for extraordinary abilities in music and he accepted it. There he had his first child and dedicated himself to music production and acting.
He starred in his first telenovela in 2011. He played Colombian singer Wilson Saoko in Joe, the legend, the RCN Television program based on the life of Joe Arroyo. A year later, he took advantage of that newfound fame to release his first solo album, Dance salsa. As an independent artist, she says she didn’t have much financial support. With her production team they had to find creative ways to make her music known. “We distribute lots of records in Bogotá. That’s how she started giving away singles. It is a project that has grown in a very strange way, but it has been worth it,” she comments.
Castillo dedicated much of the 2010s to just that, to grow as an artist. She acted in a couple of soap operas, released another album, did advertising for shows like Factor X Colombia, produced more music, had a daughter. She had a stable, successful career. But it wasn’t until the pandemic that her big opportunity came: Charm. She says that one day she received a casting call to audition. She was asked to send a video singing and another reciting some lines: “I sent it, I listened to it and said ‘this is good, it turned out good.’” She was right.
Charm
A month later, Disney called him on a video call. Castillo did not know very well what stage of the process they were in. “At that time he didn’t speak English very well. “So he had my wife hiding under the table, in case she didn’t understand something,” he says and laughs with her whole body. When he entered the conference he realized that it was a very important meeting. “I saw the names of the directors of the film. I said ‘this can’t be happening,’” he recalls. He had won the role of Félix Madrigal, a cheerful, relaxed and musical Afro-Colombian character. “The interesting thing about that conversation was that they asked me all the time if I was comfortable with what the doll looked like. How he walked, how he moved. Do you like how it looks? Do you feel represented? “There was a very special respect.”
For Castillo, that respect was one of the key elements that made Afro-Latinos from across the continent feel represented by the character of Félix. “Millions of Afro-Latinos were waiting for that moment. We finally arrived in Hollywood. Old Félix is very important to Latin culture for that reason,” he says. And it wasn’t just the Afro community that connected with Charm. The film was one of the most successful of the year: it was nominated for three Oscars and won the award for Best Animated Feature. In addition, it won three Grammys for its soundtrack and “a ton of other awards,” he points out.
Three years after the premiere, Castillo says that Charm It was a “great letter of introduction.” And she has taken great advantage of that letter. In September 2022, she sang on Broadway in New York with the famous Chinese pianist Lang Lang. “It was a magical thing,” she remembers. The following year she released her album Artificial intelligence, in which he combines the sounds of salsa, the Colombian Pacific and even opera. And in February of this year he lived a historic moment: he performed at the White House with a quintet of Afro-Latin musicians. There, in one of the oldest rooms in the building, she sang Rebellionthe legendary salsa song in which Joe Arroyo immortalized the history of slavery in Cartagena: “It was incredible, because it is a house made by enslaved people.”
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