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Lemmy Caution wrote: Tue Feb 24, 2026 1:25 pm The legendary Willie Colon. As the headline states: trombonist who pioneered salsa music.
Just 75. Made his first recording at 16.

Rubén Blades wrote:On February 21, 2026, a titan of salsa music, William Anthony Colón, better known as Willie Colón, passed away.

I remember perfectly the last time I saw him, on April 3, 2023, at the wake of our friend and colleague, the bongos player Jorge “Georgie” González.

I was talking with 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 almost fainted when they saw us together.

Contrary to what some might have expected, our conversation was cordial. And that's because, despite the hardships that existed and will continue to exist, we both always respected what we did and the experiences we went through during those six years and six albums together, creating musical directions unprecedented at that time, in a genre brimming with immeasurable talent.

It was in 1967 or 1968, when I met Willie and Héctor in Panama, the first time they came to play at a carnival. I hadn't heard of them, but the afternoon I saw them performing on a stage in Plaza Cinco de Mayo and Avenida Central, the energy and rebellious spirit emanating from the young band made me a lifelong fan.

There I had my first conversation with Willie, without either of us imagining that in just a few years we would forge a personal, emotional, and intellectual connection, one capable of changing the traditional structure of salsa. It shifted from a system of songs with lyrics and arrangements geared toward dancing and strictly limited to the realities of the neighborhood, to music with urban and national content that didn't shy away from addressing political issues.

Without having planned it, our collaboration would propel the Afro-Cuban genre to new heights, even reaching a global audience. I was fortunate to find a musician with the intelligence to understand the Pan-American meaning of my compositions and give them the opportunity to be heard internationally through his orchestra.

Willie's ambition wasn't limited to salsa. This is demonstrated, among other things, by the excellent concept of his musical production, "El Baquiné de los Angelitos Negros," his soundtrack for a PBS (Public Broadcasting System) television program. This little-known album is a testament to the risks Willie was willing to take to satisfy his curiosity for finding new paths, even at the expense of the demands that commercial success imposed on his career at that time. The album wasn't a commercial success, but it proved that Willie was interested in exploring different ways of making music. For this kind of example, I have always respected and will continue to respect Willie's talent and imagination, and his vast knowledge as a music producer.

Personally, I remember the solidarity he showed me in the 80s, when I sang my song "Tiburón" in Miami, despite having been threatened and warned not to, or when we played at the then-famous Studio 54 in New York. The emcee, euphoric, described the occasion as a major milestone for music and Latinos in the United States, and I told the audience that the venue was a "plastic" dive, that they only accepted us 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 had said.

Regarding our personal differences, I'll say that these exist and will exist in every type of relationship. Every being is composed of a complex mix of emotions. Our personalities have numerous facets, which sometimes complement each other and sometimes contradict each other. People get divorced, but they continue to love their children and never forget the good times they shared. Although no one is entirely good or entirely bad, our tendency is to generalize and demonize, and that's why for many it's impossible to accept or understand that one can recognize the positive aspects of a person while simultaneously rejecting what we consider negative in their actions.

I will always feel affection for Willie, even though I don't understand why he decided to sue me, demanding money that was stolen from us at a concert, why he then made an out-of-court settlement in which he kept our money, and why he 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 his support and sympathy for the most deceitful, narcissistic, and racist politician the United States has ever seen also bothered me, none of this affects the reality of what we created musically, nor does it erase or cancel my affection for him, the positive memories, the laughter, the struggles, triumphs, difficulties, and shared sacrifices.

Despite everything, 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 solidify messages of unity and possibility, of truth, solidarity, and hope to the entire world through salsa songs, receiving massive popular support, especially in Spanish-speaking countries.

Willie Colón is gone, but only physically. His extraordinary legacy will continue to live on through people who love music and dance, appreciate the power, vitality, and flair of salsa's musical arrangements, and identify with the lyrics of urban songs that detail and document, in simple or complex ways, realities and experiences shared throughout Latin America.

The flags that Bad Bunny displayed at the end of his successful Super Bowl performance have a precedent: they echo the first call for unity to all the nations of Latin America ever recorded in Latin popular music, originally recorded at the end of the song "Plástico" from our album, "Siembra."

Today, a new generation is present and cultivates the seed we sowed together almost five decades ago. Today, when the task of reclaiming the identity and just possibility of our culture seems more urgent than ever, our work, done with love, affection, and faith, still contributes to promoting the Pan-American ideal that we have always defended and that eternally unites us, despite all hardships.

Rest in peace, Willie Colón, and I'll say it again: thank you, Willie!

You're not dead, my friend. On the contrary; now you're just beginning to live.

Rubén Blades
February 23, 2026

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Famous also for writing a scathing “fuck you” to Vice President Dan Quayle, who said that The Candidate inspired him to enter politics

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