"Willie Colón, trombone and salsa legend, dies at 75"

AlexY

https://www.latimes.com/delos/story/2026-02-21/willie-colon-salsa-71-hector-lavoe-ruben-blades

Ruben Blades in his own words: https://www.facebook.com/search/top?q=rubén blades

I ran it through a translator as I thought it was a fitting eulogy and it touches upon Willie's unexplainable support of Trump, which I can only chalk up to an overreaction to Chaves and later Maduro who Willie often lambasted. It reminds me of people I know from the former Soviet block who are so traumatized by what they went through that they somehow become far right.

Anyway, enough about that. Here are Ruben's words:

TO WILLIE COLON On February 21, 2026, a titan of salsa music, William Anthony Colón—better known as Willie Colón—has moved to "the other neighborhood" (passed away). I remember perfectly the last time I saw him, on April 3, 2023, at the wake of our friend and colleague, the bongocero Jorge “Georgie” González. I was talking to José Massó and his wife Divina when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around, and there was Willie. If I was surprised to see him, the rest of the people present nearly fainted seeing us together. Contrary to what some might have expected, our conversation was cordial. Despite the grievances that existed and will exist, both of us always respected what we did and the experiences we went through during those six years and six albums together, creating musical directions previously unseen in a genre filled with immeasurable talent. It was in 1967—or 1968?—when I first met Willie and Héctor [Lavoe] in Panama, the first time they went to perform at the carnivals. I hadn't heard of them, but the afternoon I saw them performing on a stage at Plaza Cinco de Mayo and Avenida Central, the energy and rebellious spirit emanating from that young band made me a fan forever. That’s where I had my first conversation with Willie, never imagining that in a few years we would create a personal, emotional, and intellectual connection capable of changing the traditional structure of salsa—moving from songs with lyrics and arrangements strictly aimed at dancing and limited to neighborhood reality, to music with urban and national content that did not shy away from political issues. Without premeditation, our combination projected the Afro-Cuban genre into other dimensions, even on a global level. It was my good fortune to find a musician with the intelligence necessary to understand the Pan-American sense of my compositions and provide them the opportunity to be heard internationally through his orchestra. Willie’s ambition was not limited to salsa. This is evidenced, among others, by the excellent concept of his musical production, "El Baquiné de los Angelitos Negros," his soundtrack for a PBS television program. That little-known album is an example of the risk Willie was willing to take to satisfy his curiosity for finding new paths, even at the expense of the commercial demands imposed on his career at the time. The album was not a sales hit, but it proved Willie was interested in exploring different ways of making music. Because of this example, I have always respected and will always respect Willie's talent, imagination, and his enormous knowledge as a music producer. On a personal level, I remember the solidarity he showed me in the 80s when I sang my song "Tiburón" in Miami despite being threatened and warned not to, or when we played at the then-famous "Studio 54" in New York. The master of ceremonies, euphoric, described the occasion as a major milestone for music and Latinos in the United States; I told the audience that the place was a "plastic" dive that only accepted our presence because it was in decline and needed the money, and that if we wanted to be taken seriously, we had to become politically active. When we finished the set, Willie defended me when the promoter and his offended assistants confronted me about what I said. Regarding our personal differences, I will say that these exist and will exist in all types of relationships. Every human being is composed of a complex mix of emotions. Our personalities present many facets that sometimes complement and other times contradict each other. People get divorced but still love their children and never forget the good times shared. Although no one is entirely good or entirely bad, our tendency is to generalize and demonize; thus, for many, it is impossible to accept or understand that one can recognize the positive in a person while simultaneously rejecting what we consider negative in their actions. I will always feel affection for Willie, even despite not understanding why he decided to sue me, claiming money that was stolen from us from a concert, or why he later made an out-of-court settlement where he kept our money and never apologized to me—not even after the company that harmed us was found legally guilty and ordered to return the stolen money. And although I was also bothered by his support and sympathy for the most lying, narcissistic, and racist politician ever seen in the United States, none of this affects the reality of what we managed to create musically, nor does it eliminate or cancel my affection for him, the positive memories, the laughter, the struggles, triumphs, difficulties, and shared sacrifices. Despite the grievances, my admiration for Willie and my respect for his work will never disappear, and I will never allow hatred to be part of our past relationship. This is the aspect I consider important to highlight: the providential union of two young musicians, one from New York via Puerto Rico and the other from Panama, who managed to present and consolidate in salsa songs messages of unity, possibility, truths, solidarity, and hope for the entire world, receiving massive popular support, especially in Spanish-speaking countries. Willie Colón is gone, but only physically. His extraordinary legacy will continue through those who love music and dance, appreciate the strength, vitality, and taste in salsa musical arrangements, and identify with urban lyrics that detail and document shared realities across our Americas. The flags that Bad Bunny presented at the end of his successful Super Bowl performance have a precedent: they repeat the first call for unity of all Latin American nations ever recorded in Latin popular music, recorded at the end of the song "Plástico" from our album, Siembra. Today, a new generation is present and cultivates the seed we planted together nearly five decades ago. Today, when the task of reclaiming the identity and just possibilities of our culture looks more urgent than ever, our work—done with love, affection, and faith—still contributes to promoting the Pan-American ideal we always defended and that unites us eternally, despite the grievances. Rest in peace, Willie Colón, and I repeat what I always say: Thank you, Willie! You are not dead, compadre. On the contrary; it is only now that you begin to live. Rubén Blades February 23, 2026