Musician Willie Colón, one of the giants of salsa, dies

BarcelonaMusician Willie Colón, an essential genius of salsa, passed away this Saturday at the age of 75 in a New York hospital, as reported by his family. "With great sadness, we announce the death of our beloved husband and father. He passed away this morning surrounded by family. Although we mourn his absence, we also enjoy the eternal gift of his music," the family statement reads.

The musical gift that Willie Colón leaves behind is immense. Along with Héctor Lavoe and Rubén Blades, he revolutionized Latin music in New York in the late sixties and early seventies, under the wing of the Fania Records label, the brand that made salsa the sound of the city. If salsa were a building, Willie Colón would be its most audacious architect, the one who created some of the most imaginative trombone arrangements and who knew how to put himself at the service of the best singers and lyricists. The song The singer It perfectly illustrates the significance of this trombonist, born in New York on April 28, 1950. Blades composed it, Lavoe sang it, and Colón arranged it, adding a symphonic production that transformed the song into a cathedral. This occurred in 1978, when the three were changing the codes of Latin music. That same year, Rubén Blades and Willie Colón collaborated Sowing, one of the best salsa albums in historyThe album in which Colón consolidated a production style conscious of Puerto Rican rhythmic tradition while also being open to funk, Bronx sounds, and African rhythmic patterns.

Willie Colón had experienced Puerto Rican rhythms at home, and when it came time to choose an instrument, he first chose the clarinet and, finally, the trombone. At just 17 years old, Jerry Masucci and Johnny Pacheco brought him into Fania. Pacheco, with good judgment, sensed that Colón could form an unbeatable duo with Lavoe. Both were very young and eager to conquer the world. And Pacheco spurred them on. It could have been a failure, but the Fania environment let them do their thing, and in 1967 they released The bad onean album steeped in the boogaloo that was popular at the time. Two years later, their fourth album together was already a masterpiece: Our thing (1969): spicy salsa served up by a couple of swaggering young men dressed as gangsters who leaked social commentary.

Colón and Lavoe formed a wild musical partnership. Colón had the freedom to experiment with arrangements outside the established norms of musicians from the previous generation, such as Tito Puente and Pacheco himself, and Lavoe became the best possible singer, both impetuous and vulnerable. Surely the best of these two worlds is condensed on this album. I'll kill him (1973), the album that includes tracks like Moon Street, Solo Street and The day of my luckThe Colón-Lavoe partnership was intense: nine albums in six years. And in 1975, another began: Colón-Blades. The trombonist and producer's endorsement was fundamental for the Panamanian singer to solidify conscious salsa. Or, in other words, salsa with lyrics set against the sociopolitical backdrop of the time. It was then that Colón opened up the possibilities of salsa as a style that transcends legacies. Putting in the remote! (1977), the album by Pablo Pueblo, The suitcase and the first major social chronicles. It was the prelude to SowingA work brimming with dazzling musical solutions, such as the combination of trombone and electric bass and the progressive tonal shifts. It's the album of songs like Pedro Navaja, Plastic, Maria Lionza.

While they help Lavoe get out of a bad streak with The singerColón and Blades embark on new adventures, such as the salsa opera Life teacher (1980), a Blades project with musical direction by the trombonist, and the joint album Songs from the yard of the bored (1983). The Colón-Blades partnership was impressive, the communion of two talents at their peak and brimming with ideas, but then came the disputes and recriminations following a concert in Puerto Rico in 2003 to celebrate 25 years of SowingColón was demanding payment from Blades, which the concert promoter had kept, as a court confirmed ten years later. "I'm at peace with Willie Colón; what I won't do is share the stage with him because he doesn't deserve it. But the recognition of talent will always be there," Blades explained to ARA in 2022.

Colón was also instrumental in the relaunch of Ismael Miranda, another singer touched by the gods like Lavoe. He produced Double energy (1980). Other artists, such as Celia Cruz, also wanted to have Colón's magic touch, and from the eighties onwards he created a discography under his own name, with albums such as Warrior heart (1984), a salsa-pop take on songs by Dire Straits, Jacques Brel, and Carole King. The rhythmic exploration was more pronounced in later works such as Top secrets (1989), the album of the song The great manwhich told the story of an AIDS victim. Colón collaborated with associations supporting AIDS patients and also participated in activities in favor of immigrants and the Latino community in the United States.

In 2014, at the age of 64, he graduated from the Westchester County Police Academy in New York and worked in public safety until 2020. For many years he voted for the Democratic Party, but then he supported Donald Trump because he felt that the United States needed a leader.