Oído al Tambor: How MPeach Blends Venezuelan Folklore, Club Culture, and Community

For Mariana Martín Capriles, a.k.a. MPeach, the dance floor and the dining table are extensions of her roots—a place where her Venezuelan identity thrives. A multifaceted artist, DJ, and producer, MPeach has built a career that merges her rich cultural heritage with forward-thinking club sounds.

Born into a family of celebrated artists and athletes, MPeach’s path has been anything but ordinary. As a teenager, she snuck into clubs in Caracas, immersing herself in the city's underground music scene. In 2024, she brought Venezuelan culture to a global audience during the first-ever Boiler Room set in Caracas; during her DJ set, she featured the electrifying rhythms of Obini Tambor, an all-women drumming group, alongside renowned singer Betsayda Machado.

In this exclusive interview, MPeach takes us on a journey through her life and music. We'll explore her deep-rooted connection to traditional Venezuelan music, like the powerful rhythms of the tambor. We'll also savor the flavors of Venezuelan cuisine, including the hallaca, a Christmas dish that harmoniously blends the flavors of Venezuela's history, alongside the fluffy, corn-powered arepa. And we'll uncover the stories behind her iconic Boiler Room set, a celebration of Venezuelan talent and tradition. Amid the complex political and social challenges Venezuelans face, she celebrates the resilience and creativity of her culture. Whether she’s igniting a dance floor or preserving the spirit of Venezuela through culinary traditions and music, MPeach reminds us of the power of art and food to unite and inspire.

Q: Where are you from?

A: I was born and raised in Caracas, Venezuela. My mom's side of the family is very Venezuelan and very traditional. We can trace our Indigenous and African ancestry, and that mixed with various European lineages from different periods in history. My dad's family, originally from Colombia, moved to Venezuela in the 1950s, bringing their own diverse cultural background.

Q: Do you enjoy cooking? 

A: I love to cook. I'm a foodie and love eating local food when I am touring. There was a time when I considered attending culinary school, but I realized it was not my calling. I was married to a chef, and food became a big part of my life. When you’re a cook, you can only cook; there’s no way you can be a chef, a visual artist, a DJ, a producer, or a singer. If you’re a chef, you’re a chef, that’s it.

Q: What specific flavors remind you of Caracas, and why do they hold such significance for you? 

A: Sweet and sour reminds me of Caracas. Guisos, all the traditional stews. Caracas is known for Mantuano food (Mantuano is a term used to describe the first descendants of Spanish conquistadores in Venezuela), like Hallacas (corn dough stuffed with a stew-like filling wrapped in plantain leaves, known as traditional Venezuelan Christmas food), Asado negro (an eye-round roast slow cooked in a slightly sweet and super flavorful dark sauce), Pastel de Pollo (Venezuelan chicken pie). Even when you eat caraotas (black beans) in Caracas, you add sugar to it, so Venezuela is a blend of sweetness and sourness. The sourness comes from spices, herbs, and pickling. The sweetness comes from papelón (a solid form of sucrose derived from the boiling and evaporation of sugarcane juice) used in main dishes like stews and sauces.

Q: Do you have a favorite family recipe? 

A: My aunt's quesillo (Venezuelan flan) is a must! Her quesillo is out of this world—my grandmother’s chocolate cake is also delicious. It is a sponge cake. The recipe belonged to my great-grandmother and has been passed down. What makes it unique is that the chocolate is grated, not melted. When you cut it, it’s a whole chocolate cake, and you have chocolate flakes inside. Hallacas are also a big family thing. Each region in Venezuela has its variation and the recipe changes depending on your family traditions.

Hallacas are made by spreading a thin layer of corn dough over a plantain leaf, filling it with a rich beef, pork, and chicken stew and adding toppings like onion rings, bell peppers, raisins, and olives. The filled dough is then carefully wrapped in plantain leaves, tied with string, and steamed until tender.

Making hallacas is a cherished Venezuelan Christmas tradition that brings the whole family together. The process is a multi-day affair, with tasks often assigned based on age and experience. It starts with buying the ingredients, washing and drying the plantain leaves, and meticulously chopping, slicing, and shredding everything needed for the filling. Cooking the meat stew—an art in itself—comes next, followed by kneading the dough, assembling the hallacas, and carefully wrapping them in plantain leaves. Finally, they are tied with string and steamed to perfection. The entire process can take up to three days, turning it into a labor of love and a festive family tradition.

When you are old enough, you wash, dry, and cut the plantain leaves. It is an involved process because you need to select and cut them.  As you get older, you begin to move up the hallaca ladder! Once you are a teenager, and if you are an athlete, kneading the dough is your task because you have muscles! You start learning about the hallaca process from a young age, and now I know all the tips, tricks, and quirks. For example, I need three leaves of different sizes. It’s like you’ve been training for it all your life.

It’s very cool to have learned the whole process of making and cooking hallacas. When I moved to New York, I realized that if I were to spend Christmas there, I needed to keep the tradition alive. The very first time I made hallacas in New York, I made them with my American and Brazilian friends. If you think about it, that’s what hallaca is: a mix of different ingredients. Nowadays, due to the diaspora, more Venezuelan friends are joining the cooking process. 

Q: What food staples can’t you live without besides coffee?

A: ​​Besides coffee? I'm glad you already know this about me. I'm like, coffee! I also need vegetables and fruits. I was touring in Berlin for five days, and I went food shopping and bought some fennel. Who buys fennel when they're on tour? Me! I made it with some rice, and I loved it. I also needed a home-cooked meal. You eat out a lot when touring, so a home-cooked meal is perfect.

Q: Can you recommend three of your favorite food spots in Caracas?

A: I’m going to give you three classic staples. The arepera that, I think, is super solid and has been there forever is Los Pilones in Las Mercedes. The fillings are always on point. I even ate an arepa with octopus and quail eggs, which was terrific.

Q: Octopus and quail eggs together inside the arepa?

A: (Laughs.) Yes, and it was delicious! The octopus was a salpicón de pulpo (octopus salad). I always joke about this combo mix with my friends because who dares to eat that? At Los Pilones, they make it so well and have great soups. My second favorite place is Il Boticello, a little Italian café that’s been there for years. The food is always good and super affordable. It’s very European. Whether you have a beer or a carpaccio, they have the best eggplant pasticho (Venezuelan eggplant parmigiana version). Third, is a hot dog stand in San Agustin del Norte; it’s on the corner next to a bar called La Casita Azul. I had a hot dog with a fried egg and bacon; it was the bomb! I loved it, and I loved it, just loved it!

Q: Did music and dancing play a role in your family?

A: Yes, they did. Music plays a more prominent role than dancing. I come from a family of trained musicians. My family enjoys dancing; we dance intuitively. I am a dancer; my approach to music is through dance. I am always dancing, whether DJing or going to the club. Not only that, but I dance to my sets. I play music for people to dance to.

Q: What kind of music did your family listen to?

A: Traditional Venezuelan music was vital because my grandfather instilled that in the family. My mom was the odd duck in her family and loved classical music. She would play a lot of classical music in the house and was a hippie at some point. She played '60s rock and roll music, The Beatles, and The Mamas & the Papas, and enjoyed listening to Tom Jones. My father was more into psychedelic bands. My aunts and uncles listened to Latin music, like salsa and bolero.

Q: What do you mean by Venezuelan traditional music?

A: Venezuelan traditional music includes everything from joropo to tambor, tamunangue, and calypso. There is also joropo tuyero, joropo oriental, and joropo Guayanés to name a few. 

Joropo is played with a Venezuelan harp, cuatro, and maracas. My grandfather would travel throughout Venezuela with my uncles and conduct musical research in each town. This is how the idea behind the traditional Venezuelan folk band Un Solo Pueblo began: to research, reinterpret, and preserve the sounds and music of how this music is played in the towns.

Q: In your view, is dancing an integral part of Venezuelan identity?

A: Yes, for sure. To play traditional music, you must know how to sing, play an instrument, and dance. Aside from traditional music, Venezuelans love to dance salsa and merengue. We have Venezuelan merengue and a significant Dominican merengue influence. We grew up dancing. It's just part of anything that we do.

Q: What kind of music did you listen to growing up?

A: All of it. I have very eclectic taste. I like all types of music. I listened to grunge because I was a teenager in the 90s. I also liked heavy metal, like Sepultura. I loved merengue. I was dancing to El General, early Spanish reggae, pre-reggaeton. It was a mix of merengue, hip hop, and techno merengue. I loved all of that. But at the same time, I was listening to Nirvana and Sepultura.

Q: Can you name three Venezuelan musicians that every music connoisseur should know?

A: Betsayda Machado has the best voice in Venezuela. She is an Afro-Venezuelan artist from Barlovento. Then, I would say Arca, a musician and record producer pushing the boundaries with her sound. Lastly, my uncle, Ismael Querales, is a traditional bandola player. They are eclectic and come from different music spectrums, but they are all Venezuelans.

 Q: How did you discover club culture?

A: I didn’t discover it; it came to me. I remember one New Year’s Eve when my cousins decided to take me to a club. I looked older than my age, so I was able to get in. I remember dancing all night until five or six in the morning and thinking, “This is life; these are my people.”  The music and dancing felt very cathartic. Dance music is so freeing; you can do whatever you want. I felt so free with these sounds. That was my first club experience, which became a thing throughout the years.

Growing up in Venezuela in the 90s, I was drawn to dance music—the kind that made you move in the club. I always sought people who would travel abroad and bring new music with them. I was curious about the sounds, and the culture it created made me feel safe. This is the 90s underground club culture where people were free to be themselves, I was dancing with queer and gay people, and even though I was young, I understood that outside these spaces, this was not allowed. 

Q: Do you play any instruments?

A: My first instrument was the marimba. And then I played piano. It was the main instrument I studied. I played many instruments in college, but I'm not an instrumentalist. I start with the piano to write or compose music. I also studied congas with Nene Quintero in college in Venezuela. That was my first approach to percussion. I would have wanted to learn tambor then, but it wasn't available. It wasn't the right time. It felt like nobody was going to teach me that. You're a woman. You're not from a pueblo (small town or village). Now, I have friends who are artists who grew up in these towns; they learned to play tambores from an early age. I also played bass in New York with a band. You just pick up instruments here and there. Eventually, I started playing tambores.

Q: Tell us about Tambores.

‍A: I need to give you the backstory! In the 18th century, slaves were granted very few holidays. However, one of the few holidays they were allowed to celebrate was on the 24th of June. This coincided with the end of the harvest and the beginning of the summer solstice. During this time, slaves were not permitted to enter the church. The Catholic Church allowed the slaves to observe and celebrate Saint John the Baptist Day, also known as “día de San Juan Bautista.” This day held significant cultural and religious importance for the slaves, giving them a rare opportunity to participate in a celebration that had profound meaning for their community. They were most likely celebrating their religious deities disguised under this catholic holiday. Imagine being a slave and having spare time; you will play drums, sing, dance, and celebrate life.

The midwestern states of Venezuela, Aragua, Miranda, Vargas, and parts of Carabobo, among other regions, honor Saint John the Baptist. Choroní, is known for its tambores de San Juan Bautista. This charming, magical little coastal town is in Henri Pittier National Park, part of the Venezuelan coastal mountain range in Aragua state.

During the San Juan festivities, the drummers are essential to the procession. Their rhythm and passion greatly influence the dancing as the group moves on. The procession pauses periodically, and the intensity of the drumming changes: the crowds, or Sanjuaneros, transition from watching or following to dancing or vice versa.

Like many Venezuelans, I went to Choroní throughout my life. Aside from its beautiful Playa Grande Beach, lush tropical jungles, river, and hidden creeks, you can visit nearby towns and beaches, which you can access by taking a boat from the harbor. An evening highlight in Choroní is strolling along the boardwalk and listening to the sound of tambores. Nowadays, tambores are played yearly, and it has become a big Afro-Venezuelan party.

The drums are believed to have originated in the Kongo, as is the case with most Afro-Venezuelan musical genres, though they have also been influenced by local Indigenous cultures. There are various types of drums and rhythms across different regions of Venezuela. In Barlovento, we have Culo 'E Puya drums, which are played with both a hand and a stick. This ensemble consists of three drums, each played by a different person, executing distinct rhythmic patterns that interlock to create a polyrhythm. In regions like Vargas, Aragua, and Yaracuy, we find Cumacos, Pipas, and Campanas. Cumacos are laid on the ground, with one musician sitting at the end with the drumhead, playing with their hands, while another person strikes the body of the drum with palos (sticks or claves). Meanwhile, others play the campanas, holding them between their legs while seated on a chair.

Tambores are a call-and-response. There is a lead singer, and everybody responds in unison, like a choir. The response is essential; if you don’t have a "coro" (choir), the energy is not there, and you don’t have tambores. The back-and-forth feedback on this is essential. Simultaneously, there is dancing. The dancing involves couples circling each other and then circling back, creating a vibrant and sensual atmosphere.

‍Q: When in Choroní, what does one eat?

‍A: For breakfast, empanadas filled with cazón (shark fish). You usually spend the day at the beach; you dip in the creek afterward. For dinner, you must have fried catalana (Red Bigeye fish), tostones (fried plantain), shredded cabbage, and carrot salad; it’s like coleslaw but better.

Q: How did your musical journey as a DJ and producer begin?

A: Rave culture arrived in Venezuela while I was enrolled in art school, and I was immediately drawn to it. I was studying design, and a group of friends started throwing a party called Simple. They were a drum and bass music collective, and I asked them if I could use their turntables because I wanted to learn. The learning process was very organic. I always thought Latin music was also electronic dance music and that the two genres could be intertwined.

I had a PC at the time with a CD burning software called Nero, which included very basic audio editing software. I began chopping the sounds of the music I was listening to and making mashups. I was producing without knowing that I was producing. I started VJing at parties and was in an experimental audiovisual band where we would do IDM, glitchy abstract hip-hop with visuals. We would play parties, galleries, and art shows. Eventually, I was offered a DJ gig, and I said yes. 

I started collecting and spinning vinyl when I moved to New York in 2004. I had my turntables and a mixer. I also joined an indie electronic band called Todosantos. We toured and played with the likes of Cut Copy, Digitalism, Jarvis Cocker, Spank Rock, Treasure Fingers, Dre Skull, Yacht, The Slits, Kinky and Plastilina Mosh.

Q: When was MPeach born?

A: The project began in 2011 when I released my first EP, Vengo por ti. I always knew my music had to be Venezuelan-infused. My Venezuelan kicks, drumming, percussion, lyrics, and little nooks make me unique.

‍Q: How has music contributed to connecting with the Venezuelan diaspora?

A: Oh, massively. There have been several peaks. I left Venezuela because I wanted to have other experiences; this happened before the Venezuelan situation got to where it is today. Before I could support myself as an independent artist, I needed to hustle, which meant working in restaurants. I’ve heard stories about people crossing the Darién Gap that are like Dragon Level 15. If you think crossing the Mexican-US border is dangerous, the Darién Gap is 10 times more dangerous. In 2023, we did a party that was a fundraiser for asylum seekers in New York, and seeing everyone connect with the music and the tambores was a beautiful thing. I saw and experienced a new level of diaspora that day because there were so many people.

Q: What brings you the most satisfaction when DJing? 

A: When the dance floor responds to the music that you are playing. When the dancers are one with the music, a good party needs dancing, and when the dancers are willing to go on a musical journey with you, it takes it to a whole new level. 

Q: Boiler Room Caracas, can you give us a behind-the-scenes look at what it took to produce it in Caracas?

A: Talks about the first Boiler Room in Caracas started in October 2023. It served as Arca's after-party for her concert in Caracas. The line-up featured Venezuelan electronic music scene pioneers, such as DJ Babatr, Cardopusher/Safety Trance, Phran, and DJ Yirvin. 

Q: Your Boiler Room set was the shortest, but you effortlessly packed a one-two punch mix with a live female tambor troop and a singer. How did you curate that set? 

A: I sought to honor the collective Venezuelan identity in my set. Boiler Room was me having an Olympic moment with my Venezuelan flag. It was my welcome to Venezuela, and this is how we party. My set introduced the world to our culture and our humor. I needed to get to everyone’s core, a validation of Venezuela, our sound, the things that make us tick and stick together.

I’ve been preparing for this moment since I started making mashups. It was set up as a big DJ showcase, and I said, "I'm bringing tambores." The tambores happened because of Arca; otherwise, the organizers might have pushed back. Thank you, Mother! I brought nine people, and the logistics organizers were ready to explode. I invited Obini Tambor, an all-women Tambor group, and singer Betsayda Machado. 

I have worked with Obini Tambor and Betsayda Machado, so we know each other’s styles. Everyone could join and jump in without a rehearsal; we only had a brief sound check. I needed to give and share this space and bring these women who make Afro-Venezuelan music and inspire me to this platform. 

 Q: What is the concept behind Cosas Buenas (Good Things), your new single?

A: It was written between New York and traveling the world. The music was finished, but the lyrics were still floating. The hook and the melody came to me in the shower; most of my songs are born in the shower. Water, for me, is essential.

It was me closing a mourning period, starting and embracing a new chapter in my life. Within six months, I lost my mother to cancer and got divorced, all during the pandemic. It also speaks to the current situation in Venezuela, where the system is broken.

Over the past 26 years, Venezuelans have not lost hope; challenges persist, and migration continues. At the same time, there's a growing opportunity for those who remain to build a better life. This hope is a powerful force, encouraging people to embrace the positive changes and opportunities that may come their way.

The music reflects this mood with its melancholic undertones and connection to something greater. It speaks to the collective experience, drawing on ancestral traditions and spiritual themes. It's music that acknowledges the hardships and yearns for a brighter future.

Q: The song’s chorus says, "lluvia de cosas buenas" (downpour of good things), and it has begun to rain as we speak! What other good things do you have planned for the rest of the year?

A: What are the odds? (Laughs). We need the rain, we need water so things grow. Water cleanses. I will play shows in Venezuela, Miami, and Europe, then release a new single and the whole album in 2025. 

Q: MPeach, thank you for taking the time to sit and talk to The DJ Cookbook.

‍A: Thank you. I know I talk a lot!

Follow MPeach on Instagram.

Watch MPeach's Boiler Room set here:

Watch the video for Cosas Buenas here:

Listen to MPeach: