Buscabulla’s Love (Actually)

When Raquel Berrios told Luis Alfredo Del Valle, her bandmate in Buscabulla, that she was writing personal songs about the rift in their romance, he initially balked. “Our careers thus far had never really been about our relationship, so it was definitely one of these things where I was like, Man, do we really have to go there? Is it anybody’s business?” says Del Valle. “But I had to look towards other artists who inspired me and come to terms with the fact that those artists are honest and vulnerable and aren't afraid to delve into things that might be uncomfortable. So at some point I had to accept it and embrace it in a way that was fully honest and forthcoming. I thought that would be our best shot at creating something genuine and profound—even though it’s a little bit like… how would you say… mortifying,” he laughs.

Berrios and Del Valle are chatting from the sprawling Brooklyn office of their label, Domino, both perched on a lush leather couch and emanating chill confidence. We’ve convened to discuss the Puerto Rican duo’s gorgeous new album, Se Amaba Así, which explores the vagaries of a relationship—their relationship—with sometimes startling frankness over slinky synth-pop and the occasional guitar-hero solo. They speak with the relaxed familiarity of the 10-year couple and parents of a daughter they are, Del Valle’s jokey instincts balanced by Berrios’ direct and somewhat serious demeanor.

When Buscabulla previously wrote about longing, it was often for Puerto Rico: either missing it from their adopted home in New York, or, once they moved back, lamenting its exploitation n the aftermath of Hurricane María. Regresa, their 2020 debut, was an exceedingly cool album loosely about colonialism’s impact on the island, on which Berrios sang in an otherworldly soprano on Del Valle’s syrupy dancefloor guitar and production, merging traditional Latin rhythms like plena, salsa, and reggaetón into the most glamorous soft-lit basement-club vibe. Regresa had led them to international renown and the notice of Bad Bunny, who asked them to collaborate on Un Verano Sin Ti’s “Andrea.” But after five years, Berrios found herself turning inward, spilling her heart out as if on instinct when she sat down at the piano to write. “It’s almost like playing the piano was hypnotizing me,” she says, “and these things are coming out. And after I wrote it, I was like, Man… this is the chapter that I’m in.”

Most pivotal was the death of Berrios’s father in 2023, with whom she’d shared a love for music. “That made me want to focus more on deeper issues, more existential about life, about the things that I wanted to change or make better,” she says. “I've learned that it’s kind of like, go deep and real or go home. I liked the challenge of it. Making music that was fun or light or touching on other themes didn't seem as interesting or challenging to me. I like the idea of pursuing things that scare me a little bit because I think that's where the good stuff happens.”

Se Amaba Así finds the duo growing as musicians, too. “Mi Marido” puts Puerto Rican percussion through a freaky psychedelic filter and somehow becomes both quiet-storm and salsa, with Berrios modeling her singing style after midcentury icon Ismael Rivera. “We’re never gonna do, like, a straight-up classic salsa. Our drummer sometimes gets mad at us because he’s like, You’re breaking all the rules! That's just what we’ve always been about,” says Berrios. “We’re quirky, and sometimes we don't know what we’re doing, but in a way, that’s sort of what makes it unique.”

Del Valle also sings on a Buscabulla album for the first time, his voice warm and confident despite his initial nerves. The autotuned power ballad “Mortal” offers his own sense of longing, a dramatic release about the desire to just connect. “It was terrifying,” he laughs. “Nah, but it was cool, I keep giving Raquel props cause she pushed me to do it. It’s never been about my voice in this project, it’s never been about my point of view, thematically, thus far. But in this project it was such a personal, very much about us thing, and after hearing seven songs addressing you, there’s gotta be one or two where I write back! I gotta say something.” 

Still, it is a little surprising, for instance, to hear Berrios sing a line like “¿Dónde está el amor que un día supimos tener?”—where is the love we once had?— on “Te Fuiste,” a dreamy, dancey single that exemplifies the album’s juxtaposition of despairing lyrics over discotheque-ready jams. She was partly inspired by the history of romance in Latin music, “the way that people loved each other to the point where it was too dramatic, or even sort of martyr-y, perhaps—so intense.” She was interested in flipping some of the tropes—of machismo, of sacrifice, and yet admired the way classic love songs were so uninhibited. “I felt both very moved by it, and at the same time, it was kind of ridiculous and funny. But there was something about both of those things that I still wanted to understand.” 

In the video for the sexy, string-laden guitar jam “El Camino,” she and Del Valle took notes from 1970s and ’80s icons like ABBA, Sonny & Cher, and the Argentinian sibling duo Pimpinela, donning matching denim jumpsuits and crooning under glowy moonlight. It’s perfect camp, dead serious but self-aware. At one point, they’re driving around in Deloreans. “We wanted to make something conceptual between personal life and then the spectacle of what we do, because our relationship and band have always been so intertwined, and sometimes it's been very, very hard to separate the two,” Berrios says.

It can be a sticky thing, starting a band with your romantic partner. The connection is often fruitful, but when it goes awry, well—no one wants to end up like Fleetwood Mac, at least emotionally. But with Se Amaba Así, Buscabulla have created a new kind of relationship-woes album, one that follows a narrative arc about the ups and downs of a romantic rift, but also plays with and rejects tropes about beginnings and endings—life is more complicated than that. “I think we’d like to serve as a sort of a blank slate through which people can see themselves through their own relationships,” says Del Valle, “and perhaps it can offer somebody else some kind of therapeutic value. Yeah, they’re sensitive and intimate issues, but it’s something that everybody deals with, you know what I mean?”

“We needed space to really find who we were outside of the band and maybe our relationship. I think everybody needs that,” says Raquel. “Some people ask is this a breakup album, and it’s actually not. There’s a lot of longing in the record, It doesn’t have a finality. It explores a complexity of emotions, of both loving the person and the desire to be your own person.” 

“I do like that it’s being put out there,” she continues. “I want to invite people to feel like, Isn’t being in a relationship crazy?”

If you’re in New York: Buscabulla will play at the Lena Horne Bandshell in Prospect Park for Celebrate Brooklyn on June 26, 2025. Puerto Rican indie-pop champs Chuwi and Afro-Puerto Rican bomba ensemble Paso Negro also perform; admission is free and you can RSVP here. Hearing Things is a Celebrate Brooklyn media partner, and we’ll be there, too!