I first met Attila Mendez during a moment of vulnerability for our community: a fundraiser for Gaston Adanto. Since then, our paths have continued to cross at Cristal Jams and on the corners of Little Havana. This interview wasn’t planned with a rigid script; it was a necessary encounter between the February chill and the heat of creation. Sitting there, listening to how Attila and DShon El Villano deconstruct the reality of Miami to turn it into music, reminded me why I do this. There is a raw magic in the 305 that only appears when you stop looking for studio polish and start listening to the pulse of the street.
The air in Little Havana carried a rare, crisp edge of a cold February morning. Weird for a Miami winter. Surrounded by the neighborhood’s familiar chorus of roosters and the low, rhythmic thrum of jet engines, the conversation with Attila Mendez and DShon El Villano felt remarkably easy—just a natural flow of ideas between people who have spent plenty of time in the same trenches. It was a fluid, trilingual exchange, where sentences beginning in Spanish found their rhythm in English and occasionally hit a French note. There was no artifice, just the comfortable energy of a morning spent catching up in the chill.
The story of their partnership is a testament to the quiet gravity of the Miami creative scene. This interview’s energy was a reminder that in this city, serendipity isn’t just a coincidence; it’s a pathos.
They retraced their steps back to the open-mic nights at Bar Nancy and Thank You Miami, laughing about their first encounter. Attila had arrived with a Charango tucked inside a case resembling a vintage Tommy gun. “He comes up to me and says, ‘Hey, you can’t be bringing that in here!'” Attila laughed, remembering DShon’s reaction to the “gangster” silhouette of the instrument case. Between swatting away mosquitos borrachos and leaning into the Spanglish rhythm of the neighborhood, they described a chemistry that was never forced, only discovered. Their spirit of collaboration and openness to being creative together makes them genuine, something that is greatly appreciated nowadays.
This “found-sound” philosophy is the literal pulse of their music, powered by Attila’s professional setup, Mobile Studio. For Attila, a professional recording doesn’t have to be tethered to a static, soundproof room. His studio moves with him, allowing him to capture the city’s raw frequency with high-fidelity precision. Their single, “Solo el Sol y la Luna,” was built from a collection of these sonic artifacts: a melody hummed by Attila’s wife during morning coffee and the five-note scale of a Chirophone recorded at a North Miami playground.
“I recorded it with my phone,” Attila explained. “The notes were limited, but those are the notes of the new song.” By integrating the mechanical “ring-long” of Miami trains and the “hum” of the city into his professional production, he creates something uniquely local. “Every local space has its own reverb, its own sound and echo,” he says. “It gives the music character.”
Having had a first listen to “Solo el Sol y la Luna,” I was struck by the haunting interplay of French and Spanish. It’s a track that captures a specific frequency of the city, a sound that is as sophisticated as it is raw. I also had the chance to hear an unreleased track that takes their experimentation even further: the creative well is deep. I experienced their flow first-hand by just being there, listening to their exchange.
That honesty peaks in their anthem “Fuck ICE,” where the ancient vibration of the Oud meets DShon’s modern delivery. In a city where the “artistic elite” often hide behind a bubble of silence, they chose to speak. “Art in general… each artist should use their art to comment on life,” DShon insisted. “Politics affects us all.” The lyric “I speak like this because I look like this” hung in the air, a reflection on the weight of an accent and the ghost of a “System” that can make a person disappear. For Attila, holding two first-world passports felt like a call to action. “People are literally willing to die for those documents,” he shared. “It gives me chills… it gives me the responsibility to be vocal and help where I can.”
As the morning moved toward noon, the focus shifted to the future. The upcoming collaborations move into even more experimental territory, with the duo diving into Champeta, the heavy, guitar-driven rhythms of Barranquilla. Hearing the early versions of these tracks, the fusion is startlingly seamless. “I didn’t know what to expect from that song,” DShon admitted of their foray into the Colombian genre, “but he knocked it out of the park.”
The session was a reminder that the most powerful art grows from these quiet moments, by having a heart open to really listen. For Attila and DShon, the goal is that fleeting, liberated second where an audience connects with a message. “To hear the people chanting it on stage,” DShon noted, “that’s the dream.”
Sonic Inventory
The Charango: A small Andean string instrument that first sparked their conversation due to its “Tommy gun” carrying case.
The Oud: The fretless, pear-shaped lute that provides the “spirit” and resonant echo of “Fuck ICE.”
The Braguinha: A string instrument originating from Madeira, Portugal, a precursor to the ukulele, adding a vibrant and traditional texture to the compositions.
The Chirophone: A playground instrument used to capture the “limited five-note scale” for their new single.
Mobile Studio: Attila’s professional mobile recording setup designed to capture the authentic acoustics and “found rhythms” of the city.
Full Live Interview at Musicinaheartbeat on YouTube, coming soon.
