By: Ashima Shukla, Staff Writer
I was first introduced to Latin music in grade nine, when I began studying Spanish. Somewhere between the syncopated percussion, rhythmic guitar strums, and magnetic vocals, I fell in love with the music. Around that time, “Despacito,” by Luis Fonsi featuring Daddy Yankee, became a global number one hit, even though it was entirely in Spanish. Due to its popularity, it was later remixed to include a verse by Justin Bieber, further cementing its presence on the charts. The inclusion of a verse by Bieber had been done through a request made by his team. The original song’s virality broke the older crossover model, where Latin artists were expected to release English versions to achieve global success — this song had become a hit on its own. For me, it was a sign that music in languages other than English could capture the global imagination.
But Latin music’s influence on American pop culture isn’t new. As early as the 1930s, Latin jazz expanded harmonic and rhythmic possibilities, just as the conga reshaped the sound of disco and funk. Over the decades, its influence was palpable in house music, and by the late 20th century, musicians such as Ricky Martin, Jennifer Lopez, and Shakira were household names. Their success paved the way for Latin pop to eventually become more than a so-called “exotic” addition to mainstream music charting in America, rising above stereotypes of sensuality and spectacle. And this trajectory has only soared. The numbers speak for themselves: in 2024, a record high of $1.4 billion in revenue was made in the US market. It also outpaced the overall US market for nine consecutive years. On Spotify, more than one in five of the Global Top 100 tracks in 2023 were Latin.
Part of this dominance stems from the way Latin music lends itself to the current media ecosystem. Built on syncopated, body-driven rhythms, genres like reggaetón, salsa, bachata, and cumbia mirror global pop’s emphasis on danceability. The dembow beat, born from Caribbean reggaetón, has become the default rhythm of global hits, from Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina” to Nicky Jam and J Balvin’s “X.” The irresistible rhythms, and the vibrant cultures from which they emerge, make them perfectly suited for social media algorithms. On TikTok, snippets of “La Plena” or “Passo Bem Solto” spark dance trends that cross borders, while the visual spectacle of Brazilian Carnivals and Colombian ferias increasingly inform how we experience live music, inspiring music festivals from Coachella to Glastonbury.
At the same time, the global appetite for freshness in this era of microtrends is satisfied by the novelty of new mediums, genres, rhythms, and the endless possibilities for fusion that Latin music offers. “La Luz,” by Juanes, for instance, preserves folk rhythms with modern dancefloor energy while Tini reimagines cumbia with electronic beats. Each iteration carries the hybridity at the heart of Latin music itself.
In this sense, Latin music embodies both the beauty and contradictions of our global era. On one hand, it thrives in the circuits of late-stage capitalism, moving through streaming platforms and social media networks that reward constant novelty. But on the other, its existence and reinvention across decades speaks to something deeper: resistance, evolution, and cultural survival. Each beat carries depth — the echoes of colonial histories, the pulse of migration, and the creativity born from sociopolitical constraints. Latin music travels through the worlds of diasporas — for many, it’s a thread that ties them to their home. As such, this music is a tool to preserve identity and help strengthen connection to others. To dance and listen to Latin music is to participate in a story of endurance. Latin music reminds us that joy is empowering.
To me, Latin music is more than entertainment. It is how I came to learn and love the Spanish language — but more importantly, it is how I came to learn and love the fusion of cultures, people, and experiences that is Latin America. And today, Latin artists aren’t just reshaping what pop sounds like. They’re reminders and pioneers of how music is a map of our entanglements — proof that culture is strongest when it refuses to stay in one place. As borders blur and media travels faster than ever, it is clear that pop’s future is already being written in the rhythms of Latin America.
