Trey Songz—the man who helped a generation of R&B fans confuse love with texting at 2 a.m.—has officially signed with Independent Artist Group (IAG) for representation. Yes, that Trey Songz. The inventor of the “Sex Playlist” energy before streaming platforms made those literal, the crooner who somehow made the phrase “Neighbors Know My Name” sound like both a flex and a zoning violation.

With over 8 million monthly Spotify listeners, and core fanbases across Sydney, Chicago, Los Angeles, Dallas, and Atlanta, Mr. Steal Your Girl is still very much on the playlist and in the bloodstream. His latest single, “Say the Word”, dropped this month as an independent release—because when you’ve already spent years signed to Atlantic and sold millions, sometimes you just want to whisper sweet nothings directly to your audience with no middlemen.

Trey, whose real name is Tremaine Neverson (which already sounds like a lost member of the royal family who moonlights at Drai’s),

Offset has signed with Wasserman for representation, because at a certain point in your post-Migos evolution, you stop trying to run the playbook and start trying to own the team.

This is not a small move. Wasserman is the kind of place you go when you’re thinking beyond the tour—when brand equity needs structure, not just style. Offset, still managed by Full Stop, joins a roster that knows how to build global franchises out of genre-benders, crossover acts, and cultural lightning rods. Which, let’s be honest, is Offset in a nutshell.

He was previously with IAG, but this is different. This is clean lines and long-term strategy. This is “I’m not just a rapper, I’m a property.”

Offset has over 15.5 million monthly listeners on Spotify, and if you’re mapping influence, you’ll find him blaring out of speakers in Chicago, Toronto, Dallas, L.A., and Sydney—because hip-hop globalization doesn’t need a passport, just bass. His most recent single, “TEN”, dropped on Valentine’s Day

Marsal Ventura has signed with Analog for worldwide representation, which feels right for a DJ who treats genres the way tapas treats food groups—grab a little of everything, don’t overthink it, and make sure it pairs well with something loud.

Ventura’s not new to this. He’s been building dancefloors and twisting expectations since long before techno flamenco was something people took seriously—or Googled to make sure it wasn’t a typo. Now, he’s clocking 255,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, with Spain lighting up the heatmap like it’s voting in Eurovision. Madrid, Barcelona, Valencia, Bilbao, Málaga—it’s less of a fanbase and more of a distributed rhythm section.

His latest remix, “Caballo Maldito,” blends techno kick drums with flamenco handclaps like it’s trying to out-seduce both Berlin and Seville at the same time. And somehow, it works. It’s not EDM. It’s not traditional. It’s… emotionally percussive. It’s what happens when you turn a Spanish horse chant into a club anthem.

Marsal’s played