It started with one song.
The Venezuelan tropical rock band Rawayana joined the electro-cumbia Colombian group Bomba Estéreo in a Miami studio to work on a collaborative single. The artists instantly clicked, and the songs kept multiplying. Soon enough, Bomba vocalist Li Saumet invited members of Rawayana to her seaside hometown of Santa Marta to write a full album. There, against a backdrop of the Sierra Nevada mountains and under the scorching Caribbean sun, they birthed a new supergroup: ASTROPICAL.
Since 2008, Bomba Estéreo's exuberant, electronic melodies have ignited a free-spirited kind of mayhem on dancefloors around the globe.The group's blend of psychedelic synths, traditional Afro-Colombian rhythms and eco-conscious lyrics launched them to the forefront of the Latin indie scene. Across five studio albums, over a dozen combined Grammy and Latin Grammy nominations and a coveted Bad Bunny collab, Saumet has reigned as a high priestess of dance parties — a spiritual guide rooting Bomba's musical debauchery.
In neighboring Venezuela, a group of friends from Caracas was harnessing an equally sun-drenched, slightly more laid-back sound. Rawayana started out uploading jokey songs to MySpace, then relaxed into a funk reggae band with growing appeal. As the socioeconomic situation in the band's country deteriorated, Rawayana emerged as a key voice of creative resistance from a generation raised under political distress. Last month, the band became the first Venezuelan act to win a Grammy for best latin rock or alternative album.
ASTROPICAL's self-titled album, out March 7, is a euphoric exploration of South America's coastal sounds. "We're living in very dark times for humanity and I feel like this kind of music is what we need to vibe on a different level," Saumet tells NPR in Spanish. "All of the songs on this album are very positive; they're meant to lift people's minds and spirits."
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By joining forces, Bomba and Rawa set their sights on a less-explored Caribbean musical heritage, one they began navigating as solo artists. Whereas the Latin music boom of the past decade has largely centered genres like reggaeton, dembow and dancehall, ASTROPICAL's 12 astrology-themed songs feature dazzling champeta guitar riffs, gaita flutes and Afrobeats percussion.
"That's what Bomba Estéreo and Rawayana have always done, and that's where the magic is," says Rawa frontman Beto Montenegro in Spanish. "We're not necessarily reinventing the wheel, but we've always made music that's a little different from what's happening commercially, or what people are used to hearing. I think that's where both bands meet and make sense of the world together."
On the club-ready opener "Brinca (Acuario)," Montenegro's velvety, drawn-out vocals collide against Saumet's piercing, fast-paced delivery. As they sing back and forth, detailing instructions for how to let go and lose yourself in the music, their contrasting voices become the album's superpower. "Llegó el Verano (Sagitario)" is a hot rush of EDM beat drops and playful rhymes. In the infectious merengue-pop of "Una Noche en Caracas (Tauro)," Saumet takes inspiration from her first performance in Venezuela at 2022's Cusica Fest.
"It felt like a really historic moment. A lot of the people there hadn't been able to return to Venezuela for like 10 or 11 years, so it was this big reunion," she says. "There were also a lot of bands that had never had the opportunity to play in the country before. The energy was so magical and so strong. It was like a portal opened."
Unfortunately, the portal didn't stay open for long. In 2024, Venezuela held a highly-contested presidential election that resulted in widespread protests and a crackdown on dissent by the incumbent government. Many musicians, including Rawayana, spoke out in support of opposition leaders María Corina Machado and Edmundo González. A few months later, President Nicolas Maduro criticized Rawayana and rapper Akapellah's hit song "Veneka," which reclaims a slur often waged against Venezuelan migrants in Latin America. Days after Maduro's speech, Cusica Fest, which had long been sustaining the country's live music scene, issued a statement saying it had to cancel its festival for reasons beyond organizers' control. Also cancelled was Rawayana's upcoming tour throughout Venezuela, which Cusica was promoting.
"Although our main priority is making music and not getting involved in Venezuelan politics, we're very open about where we stand on the political situation. And because of that, the state made the decision that our tour was not convenient," says Montenegro. "We're not surprised by the decision, but we're surprised by the attempt to pass us off as a force of division. Despite making our position on the matter well-known, everyone in Rawa respects ideological, religious, sexual diversity, etc etc. Essentially, all human diversity."
During his acceptance speech at the Grammys — around the same time the Trump administration revoked temporary protection status for hundreds of thousands of Venezuelans —- Montenegro addressed his countrymen directly, telling them to hold their heads high.
"That award — I know a lot of people relate it to the resilience and resistance of what we've had to go through as Venezuelans," he says. "That was definitely the intention behind my speech: a reminder of how good we are and will continue to be."
That's the other underlying throughline of ASTROPICAL: a new moment of unity for both Venezuela and Colombia. Since the inception of both countries, the relationship has been rocky; in the 19th century, they were part of one large supernation known as La Gran Colombia, which is cheekily referenced in the lyrics to "Una Noche en Caracas."
During the armed conflict of the 1970s and '80s, many Colombians sought refuge in neighboring, oil-rich Venezuela. In recent decades, as the latter undergoes a socioeconomic crisis, millions of Venezuelans have migrated to Colombia. There, they've often been met with xenophobic backlash. In 2019, the two countries broke all diplomatic relations, though they were restored in 2022.
Saumet and Montenegro say that working together on the album helped them understand just how similar their countries are to one another, and how much more common ground there is to explore. Lyrically, ASTROPICAL is a playground of cultural touchstones and if you know, you know references to both countries. In the cosmic trip of "Me Pasa (Piscis)," Montenegro winks at the never-ending argument about who arepas really belong to. Both artists hope this album — a resounding affirmation to tune out your devices and tune into your loved ones — can help ease tensions that have permeated the region for so long.
"I think as artists, we have a responsibility to liberate people from those beliefs," says Saumet. "What can't be done through politics, we can do through music. Music can heal from a place of love."
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