It has been a thrill to tune in as Rauw Alejandro and Bad Bunny reintroduce salsa on a global level. Both Puerto Rican stars recently put out albums (Cosa Nuestra and DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS, respectively) that invigorated reggaeton with the salsa instruments we know and love. Of course, Rauw and Benito deserve credit for their artistry and for bringing their country’s music back to the forefront. But, in that same vein, we cannot forget to honor the Black icons who pioneered the genre in the first place. After all, salsa wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for Afro-Caribbeans and African traditions.
For instance, Yoruba and Bantu customs were fused with European styles during enslavement trading routes across Cuba and Puerto Rico in particular. “In this way, the story of salsa begins with the forced migration of enslaved people from Africa,” writes the National Parks Service in an article about salsa and migration. Because salsa is a symphony rooted in Black culture, the sound naturally has distinguishable staples. Let’s start with the instruments found in the genre, like the piano, trumpets, saxophones, trombones, timbales, güiro, conga, and clave. These smooth sounds play together to provide a beautiful blend of Caribbean music.
Staying in the realm of sound but going just outside of traditional instruments, we’d be remiss not to point out the call-and-response component of salsa. Often, a singer says a phrase to the chorus, which then repeats it back to them. This is a call back to the type of hymns that enslaved people would sing in the fields, one you’ll find in almost every salsa song. You’ll find this back-and-forth in favorites by Celia Cruz and El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico, as well as artists that are perhaps lesser-known today, like Ruth Fernandez and Arsenio Rodríguez.
To celebrate Black Latines and their legendary impact on salsa music today, we’ve rounded up 10 songs by Afro-Latines that will always deserve a spot on your playlist.
Cruz has long been known as the Queen of Salsa, which is an apt nickname. With a career spanning six decades, more than 70 albums, three Grammy wins, and four Latin Grammys, Cruz revolutionized Latine music and brought Afro-Caribbean rhythms to the world stage. That’s why it’s hard to pick just one Celia song to feature. Ultimately, we had to go with “La Negra Tiene Tumbao,” which is her love letter to fellow Black women. In it, she opens strong: “Esa negrita que va caminando, esa negrita tiene ese tumbao. Y cuando la gente la va mirando ella baila de lao y también apretao, apretao, apretao.” Never one for mincing words, Cruz also urges people to say about her in life what they’ll say after her death. “Cuando la gente se muere, se dice que era tan bella. Tan bella cuando vivía como la noche y el día. Que a mí me vengan a decir la verdad. No aguanto ya más mentiras.” In other words? Walk the talk, always.
Joe Arroyo - “La Noche”
Folks familiar with Joe Arroyo’s illustrious work are well acquainted with his classic hit “Rebelión,” which tells the story of an African couple enslaved and brutally beaten by the Spanish before they rise up in, well, a rebellion. “La Noche,” on the other hand, tends to fly a little more under the radar as far as Arroyo’s repertoire goes and we want to give it it’s flowers. From the first clave drop, “La Noche” makes you jump to your feet and swing your hips left to right. And that blissful feeling reaches elation when Arroyo shouts, “¡Candela!” The up-and-down rhythms in “La Noche” go all the way down before the Colombian singer belts, “En invierno tu calor yo fuí,” and his backup singers, in a classic call-and-response way, sing back “¡Dí que sí! This Arroyo track is so important to musical history that Don Omar sampled it in his hit “Dile.” You know when he says, “Otra, otra noche, otra?” Yeah, that’s from Arroyo’s “La Noche.”
La Lupe - “Sufriendo”
Whereas Cruz was the Queen of Salsa, her fellow Cuban singer La Lupe was the Queen of Latin Soul. Though her main genres were boleros, guarachas, and Latin soul, her sound and sultry voice were fluid enough to seep into salsa. With “Sufriendo,” La Lupe offers a slower salsa song that feels like it’s meant to be sung with your friends. Considering the title of the track, it may not be surprising that the singer goes on to talk about suffering. The striking lyrics here echo a sentiment that Maya Angelou shared in her autobiography I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. La Lupe says, “Soy como pájaro en jaula, preso y confiado en tu amor. Y aunque la jaula sea de oro, y aunque la jaula sea de oro, no deja de ser prisión.” From there, she poses a few rhetorical questions about who has loved, cried, or suffered like she has. The hurt is palpable, but the songstress quickly dissipates it with a musical break. All in all, with “Sufriendo,” La Lupe reminds us que se vale sufrir — and that you should also love and smile through that suffering whenever you can.
Grupo Niche - “Cali Pachanguero”
The Colombian salsa group Grupo Niche was founded in 1978 by Jairo Varela and Alexis Lozano, two Afro-Colombian musicians. Later, trumpeter José Aguirre joined the group as an additional songwriter, who remains Grupo Niche’s musical director and producer today. The opening riff of “Cali Pachanguero,” bright with trumpets, trombones, a saxophone, and, of course, the clave, oozes a revitalizing energy that’s the epitome of Colombian salsa. The introductory line is none other than the title, and the singer goes on to wax poetic about his beloved Cali. “Cali, luz de un nuevo cielo,” he calls it. The most visceral part of this track, however, is the lead-up to the bridge of the song. Following the lamentation of leaving his hometown and not seeing its luscious mountains, he gets into a repetition that will echo in your head and heart. “Que todo, que todo, que todo, que todo, que… Que todo el mundo te cante, que todo el mundo te mime. Celoso estoy pa’ que mires. No me voy más ni por miles.” It’s reminiscent of “La Mudanza” by Bad Bunny: “De aquí nadie me saca; de aquí ya no me muevo.
Cheo Feliciano - “Anacaona”
Puerto Rican singer and songwriter Cheo Feliciano is one of salsa’s all-time greats, and “Anacaona” is one of his best songs. Before getting into the musical genius of this song, it’s important to briefly go over the history. Anacaona was, indeed, a real woman. She was the Taíno ruler of the kingdom of Xaraguá in what’s present-day Haiti. According to Britannica, Xaraguá was “the last independent holdout during the Spanish conquest of Hispaniola, until [Anacaona’s] execution by the Spanish.” Naturally, “Anacaona” is Feliciano’s serenade to the fallen queen. The delicate opening to this track primes the listener for the vulnerability that’ll ensue in the coming minutes. The song introduces the chorus straight away, in the same swoop as the titular character. “Anacaona, india de raza cautiva. Anacaona, de la región primitiva.” Then, Feliciano’s soothing voice blesses the sound waves, first by repeating those two lines. After that, he sings: “Anacaona, oí tu voz, cómo lloró, cuánto gimió. Anacaona, oí la voz de tu angustiado corazón. Tu libertad nunca llegó.” As heart-wrenching as it is to think about Anacaona’s downfall, Feliciano dares us to think instead of her achievements.
Johnny Ventura - “La Bala (feat. Gilberto Santa Rosa)”
Johnny Ventura is charismatic and joyful, his infectious energy getting through to more than one of your senses. As talented as he is captivating, Ventura cemented himself as one of the most impactful salsa artists of the 20th century. Born in the República Dominicana, Ventura was nicknamed El Caballo Mayor and represents another pioneer of not just salsa, but also merengue. In this collaboration with fellow salsa giant Gilberto Santa Rosa, Ventura sings of a mainstay salsa theme: being in love. The titular “bullet” that Ventura and Santa Rosa sing about isn’t an omen. Instead of being scared of it, the salsa singers plead to their paramour to shoot them in the chest — with love. Brasswind instruments are front and center in this song, as are the clave and piano. But the real standout is the complementary voices of Ventura and Santa Rosa themselves.
Ruth Fernandez - “Ay Que Rica Es”
Endearingly referred to as “La Negra de Ponce,” due to her African descent and hometown of Ponce in Puerto Rico, Fernandez was arguably the very first dama de salsa. As a Black Puerto Rican woman, Fernandez broke barriers and ceilings for artists of color who came after her. Her resolve and unique sound went hand in hand, and it’s what made her a force to be reckoned with. It doesn’t take long at all for “Ay Que Rica Es” to engage with the listener. The quick, mambo-like intro has a steady beat that holds for about 15 seconds before the lyrics come in. To start, the chorus harmonizes: “La bomba, ay que rica es. Me sube el ritmo por los pies.” In this context, the “bomba” is the song itself. From here, Fernandez’s deep and decadent voice takes over. She sings about a bomba puertorriqueña so good that not even a chilly night can get you down when you’re listening to it.
Guayacán Orquesta - “Oiga, Mire, Vea”
Guayacán Orquesta is a classic salsa band that released certified bangers. Alexis Lozano (yes, the same one who founded Grupo Niche) founded Guayacán. It tracks, then, that the band’s main hit would also be an ode to Cali, Colombia. “Si huele a caña, tabaco y brea, usted está en Cali, ¡ay mire, vea! Si las mujeres son lindas y hermosas, aquí no hay fea, para que vea.” This is the bold welcome that Guayacán Orquesta’s “Oiga, Mire, Vea” offers listeners within the first few seconds. His straight-forward energy continues throughout the song, both in the lyrics and the instrumentation. The story explores las fiestas in Cali, specifically how fun-filled and extravagant they are. The singer goes on to talk about how people in the town know how to enjoy themselves and will do so at the fair without a problem or fight. The line “Habrá corrida de toros, y por la noche fiesta y rumba (¿seguro, Ray?)” shows us that call-and-response that’s an integral part of salsa. It also gives a peep into the all-night party culture that’s often at the core of Latine gatherings.
Arsenio Rodríguez - “Rumba Guajira”
Cuban musician, composer, and bandleader Arnesio Rodríguez was the salsa innovator as far as instrumental inclusions go. According to the Discography of American Historical Recordings, Rodriguez is responsible for establishing “the conjunto format and [contributing] to the development of the son montuno, the basic template of modern-day salsa” — which he did largely in the 1940s and ‘50s. In “Rumba Guajira,” the latter of which is used to refer to a traditional Cuban peasant dance, the talent sings about being inspired by the sweet sun. There are also familial messages, like from his father, mother, and brother, which the singer recounts but doesn’t confirm heeding. His father recommends always taking to kisses like chickens take to maize. His mother talks about eating all the food on his plate and never leaving crumbs. As for his brother? “Que nunca meta la mano en la cueva del cangrejo,” he advises. Loose translation: mind your own business. Like other songs on this list, “Rumba Guajira” is a lower-tempo salsa song that invites slower dances. But it’s still enjoyable nonetheless.
El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico - “Un Verano En Nueva York”
El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico was founded in 1962 by Afro puertorriqueño Rafael Ithier and Joseito Mateo, a singer from the Dominican Republic. As you might’ve guessed from the track’s title, this is the sample you hear at the beginning of Bad Bunny’s “NUEVAYoL.” The opening lyrics are the same: “Si te quieres divertir con encanto y con primor, sólo tienes que vivir un verano en Nueva York.” But the ensuing rhythm is much slower than the mash-up Benito version. Regardless, the urge to get up and dance remains. In between the strong notes of trumpets, you hear a velvet voice sing to you about the beauty of New York, a place that transformed salsa, too. In particular, El Gran Combo sings about the festivities of NYC, including Fourth of July parties and fiestas folklóricas in Central Park. About three minutes in, there’s a musical break that’ll have you twirling with joy. The clave in this section also goes particularly hard. Once the break is over, the choir repeats the title to exalt the fun of one summer in New York and leave the listener with the bliss they feel in those parrandas.
