NAPA, Calif. — If the first day of Festival La Onda was about setting the tone, the second was about holding it down. The energy stayed high across the Napa Valley Expo, even as one of the weekend’s biggest acts, Grupo Firme, was notably absent after getting its visas revoked by the Trump administration.

Headliner Carín León and fill-in act Tito Double P took the spotlight on Sunday. Still, the mood didn’t dip too much. Festivalgoers showed up in even greater numbers — some estimates put attendance at over 20,000 each day — and the vibe (“la onda”) remained celebratory. The cooler weather helped, inviting attendees to dance a little longer.

After a delayed start, Carín León emerged onstage through smoke and sparks. He sang “Me La Aventé” and then was joined by singer Matisse for “Cómo Lo Hice Yo.” Her bright vocals offered a refreshing contrast to León’s gritty tone.

But soon it became clear that something was off. León’s voice, usually powerful, sounded increasingly hoarse.

“There’s no fire in my voice, but I’m going to sing with heart,” he said. Bananas, throat sprays, water; nothing could bring his voice back. Fans filled in every chorus, but it was undeniably a bit of a letdown from the night’s headlining act.

He continued with “Ya Ahora Es Tiempo Para ti” and “Según Quién,” holding as steady as he could manage despite the strain. Then came a moment that crystallized the night: León wrapped himself in the Mexican flag and sang a stirring version of “Tennessee Whiskey.” Raw and emotional, the moment felt like a tribute to his roots and to how regional music flows across borders, genres and generations, proving that even as voices wavered, la onda held strong.

Eden Muñoz brought a wave of tribute and nostalgia to his set. He leaned into classics with the right mix of crowd-pleasers and curveballs. “A La Antigüita” and “Eva María” excited fans. He delivered a standout cover of Selena’s “Como La Flor” with a red solo cup in hand.

The performance, pleasantly peppered with saxophone and trombone solos, paid homage to legends like Chayanne, Los Tigres del Norte, Joan Sebastian and Vicente Fernández. Other highlights included “Gente Batallosa,” “El Secreto De Amor,” “Ahí En La Mesa de Rincón” and “Acá Entre Nos.”

“I don’t know how tonight will end, but I’m letting go,” Muñoz quipped with a mischievous grin between songs.

Clave Especial delivered a fiery set that had fans running toward the bass line.

“Where are the people from Jalisco? Michoacán? Guanajuato?” frontman Alejandro Ahumada called out, and the audience roared in response.

A dramatic plume of smoke marked “No Pasa Nada,” followed by a blazing “Tu Tu Tu.” Dressed head-to-toe in black, the band kept the energy dialed to 11 as it performed its regional songs. At one point, Ahumada (there band formed in Salinas) briefly switched to English.

“I went to school and college here,” he said. “Thanks to God I followed my dreams, and now we’re here with you.”

The message hit home. It wasn’t just about the music, but about persistence and pride.

Twenty-one-year-old Ángela Aguilar took the stage with the poise of someone twice her age. The daughter of Pepe Aguilar, who performed a day earlier, structured her set like a narrative with each segment unfolding with intention. A folklórico interlude gave way to elegant mariachi melodies, complete with stunning costume changes. While the sound mix dipped low at times, and her voice sounded slightly strained on “Qué Agonía,” she quickly recovered. Her haunting rendition of “La Llorona” was also a highlight.

Codiciado’s set was pure cinematic drama from the get-go. Before he even appeared, a pre-show montage traced frontman Erick Aragón’s rise from childhood dreams to stardom. Emerging in a simple white T-shirt and jeans with a pañuelo (do-rag), Aragón shouted out his hometown of Tijuana and launched into “Pero Yo” and “Dinero No Tenía.”

Aragón’s fun cover of Los Tucanes de Tijuana’s “El Papá De Los Pollitos” brought smiles. He then thanked “the country that’s given us so much, the U.S.”

“It’s difficult here,” he went on. “But we’re many. We have to keep going.”

His “Puro Codiciado!” rallying cry echoed across the grounds.

Dressed in bold neon green, musician Fabiola Reyna, better known as Reyna Tropical, brought her genre-bending rhythms to the La Onda. Her vocals occasionally got lost in the mix, but her message cut through: “Happy Pride to all my queer babies, this is for you,” she shouted.

Between music performances, NorCal Aztec danza group Calpulli Anahuak drew passersby into a different kind of rhythm  with ancestral drumming, feathered regalia and slow ceremony. Some festivalgoers paused to ask for a blessing or a limpia, a few half-joking, others fully reverent. Brief as it was, it was a visceral reminder that these celebrations are built on much older ground.

For those needing a breather from the brass and bass, the festival’s spa offered a quieter zone with chill tracks and Karol G on rotation. The silent disco, tucked away with copious bubbles floating overhead, provided a reprieve.

As dusk rolled in, DJ Caleb Calloway cranked up the reggaetón. His blend of Bad Bunny and perreo kept the dance floor alive in the final moments.

Follow photographer Mariana García at Instagram.com/marianagphoto.