Kenley Jansen loves the music of his native Curaçao. His new record label will help it reach more ears. - The Boston Globe (2024)

Hips play a big part, too, in the music of Jansen’s native country, the Caribbean island of Curaçao. In honor of a late uncle who played bass and loved the island’s rhythmic music, Jansen is investing some of the money he has earned over his Hall of Fame-bound career in a new record label, KJ74 Entertainment. The label’s first signing, a Curaçaoan of Lebanese and Colombian descent named Rafik, will release his second single, “Gracias por Todo,” on Aug. 16.

Curaçao and its sister islands, Aruba and Bonaire — known collectively as the Leeward Antilles, or the ABC Islands — share a wide-ranging music culture that’s reflective of the region’s diverse heritage. Curaçao is known for tumba, a traditional dance music celebrated in an annual festival, and ritmo kombina, a rich stew of Afro-Caribbean styles that emerged in the 1990s.

Latin music has grown in leaps and bounds in the United States and across the globe in recent years. Led by the massive popularity of reggaeton, last year the Latin music catch-all was the fastest-growing category in the US music industry for the second year in a row, with sales of $1.4 billion.

Jansen, who grew up speaking “four or five” languages, wants to help the home-grown music of his native land enjoy some of the same international renown enjoyed by the musical exports of other Caribbean nations — Cuba, Puerto Rico, Jamaica, the Bahamas, the Dominican Republic.

“Our music is a combination of merengue and salsa flavor, but also a slow, mellow style,” he said. “That’s what we do. But it’s not spread out in the world yet.”

The first couple of releases on KJ74 – Rafik’s romantic dance tune “Tukun” and “No Me Enamoro,” a salsa-bachata fusion from Amos Balentin, a two-time tumba king and member of the group Icons Curaçao — were designed to introduce the label with styles that will sound familiar to Latin music fans anywhere. Once established, the label can expand its scope, Jansen said.

“You gotta come out first with what’s already known,” he said. “I think you go in that direction first, and then slowly you can bring your culture in in a different way, like a more modern style.”

Jansen played a bit of guitar as a kid. He has been taking bass lessons for several years, since around the time of the death of his uncle, Jose Utigregorio. (Jansen has posted a few brief video clips on social media, including one of him playing reggae in front of the Green Monster.) After signing with the Red Sox before the 2023 season, he became the seventh player in major league history to reach 400 saves. To mark the occasion, his teammates surprised him with a custom bass guitar inscribed with his name, the number 74, and the logos of the three teams he has played for — the Dodgers, Braves, and Red Sox.

When Jansen first attended spring training as a big league hopeful nearly 15 years ago, like a lot of minor leaguers he was assigned a high number: 74. It was an omen, he recalled. His baseball success gave him the financial stability to help his parents cover their debts during a trying time and pay off their home, a brown stucco house in Curaçao. Street address: number 74.

In the clubhouse, Jansen made sure to let the Dodgers’ support staff know he didn’t want a “better” number when he got called up.

“I told them, ‘It’s not a coincidence. Don’t change this. When I get to the big leagues, we’re rocking 74, and I’m doing it for my family.’”

Now, at age 36 — married to a fellow Curaçaoan, Gianni; they have four children — Jansen is laying the groundwork for life after baseball.

“I’m setting myself up for the passion that I have,” he said. “Of course, it’s not a today-and-tomorrow thing. It’s going to take some time to develop, but it will be a beautiful thing.”

His love of music, he said, is good for his game.

“You gotta mix and match sometimes to keep your mind right,” he said. “It’s a medicine for your soul, I feel like. You need to get recharged, and then come back and perform well.”

Besides, Jansen said, life isn’t complete without music. He gestured out at the field, where an opposing player was taking batting practice. Empty Fenway was filled with the repetitive sound of bat on ball.

“Right now it’s quiet,” he said with a smile. “It’s boring. Music is everything.”