On a quiet, hedge-lined block in Downey, the affluent, now majority-Latino suburb in southeast Los Angeles, Jimmy Humilde, CEO of Rancho Humilde Records, is putting the finishing touches on the latest addition to his lavish home: an indoor shark tank. Soon to house a leopard shark and a gray shark, the aquarium sits at the base of a white marble staircase, crowned by a painted fresco of cherubs and a single eagle flying between fluffy clouds. The eagle pays tribute to Humilde’s late father.

“One thing that I promised myself is that, if I made it, I wasn’t leaving the hood — now I’m two minutes away,” says Humilde, now 41. “That’s where I get the good tacos.”

During the pandemic, the mansion he shares with his wife and two children became the temporary headquarters for his homegrown independent label, which over the past couple of years has disrupted and conquered the highly competitive and often insular world of regional Mexican music. The house has even served as a luxe pandemic crash pad for some of the young artists — from Sonora to Miami to South Central LA — that he signed to the label. “They go crazy for the trampoline,” he says, waving a tattooed arm toward the backyard.

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