Published in: Rolling Stone
By: Leonor C. Suárez
Across the last 30 years of Venezuelan history, music has served as a series of emotional lifeboats. In a nation defined by turbulent decades of staggering collapse, different songs have arrived at pivotal moments to keep the collective spirit afloat.
These aren’t exactly protest songs. Using canción de protesta (protest song) invites a complex historical debate in the case of Venezuela. In the Sixties and Seventies, the “Nueva Canción Latinoamericana” emerged as a powerful leftist movement across the region, led by figures like Mercedes Sosa, Pablo Milanés, and Víctor Jara. While this movement found local voices in Alí Primera and Soledad Bravo, it faced a radically different reception in Venezuela than it did in other places of Latin America.
During an era when many South American neighbors were struggling under right-wing military dictatorships (often with U.S. backing), the young Venezuelan democracy was fighting against guerrilla focos actively backed by Cuban leader Fidel Castro. Because Venezuela had successfully ousted its own dictatorship and established itself as a model of centrist, oil-funded stability, the “Protest Song” movement was often at odds with a country that was, at the time, the region’s most successful democratic experiment.
But the fighting songs below reflect decades of a profound tension that has defined recent Venezuelan history. This can be traced to “Por Estas Calles” (In These Streets), a Nineties telenovela theme song that captured the failure of the petro-state harmony, the very catalyst of the current crisis. Other songs that mirrored this crucial period include “Yo Me Quedo en Venezuela,” (I’m staying in Venezuela”) a pop-folk optimist response turned painful irony by singer Carlos Baute; and “Allá Cayó” by Grammy-nominated ska band Desorden Público. This 1997 track captured the cynicism of a nation in freefall by ironically asking “who saves us?” only for a chorus to scream back, “Michael Jordan!” Just one year after, Hugo Chávez (Nicolás Maduro’s predecessor and political father) won the presidential elections of 1998– changing the course of the country.
More recently, a Venezuelan scene has consolidated in the diaspora, built on Miami-made nostalgic pop and a Puerto Rico-infused alternative scene. Many of the songs that have come out of these scenes carry a dual cultural significance: They are often commercial pop hits that also act as a mirror for a fracturing society that has endured starvation, political repression, and censorship; and as a bridge for the more than eight million Venezuelans who fled under often perilous conditions during the great migration of the last decade.
“Mucho Gusto,” Canserbero, 2010
In the second track of his debut solo album, Vida, the late rap legend Canserbero introduces himself by laying out the stark credentials of his upbringing: a life spent navigating economic hardship and street violence in the Venezuelan barrio. “With 60 deaths a week only in the capital!” he yells in his signature raspy baritone, capturing a country collapsing into lawlessness. From his social critique mixtape Guía para la Acción (2007) to the existential darkness of his second and final studio album, Muerte (2012), Canserbero’s catalog stands as a visceral reflection of the dark era the nation navigated during the first two decades of the millennium. By the time the mystery of his 2015 death was reclassified as a homicide in 2024, he had already become the patron saint for the Venezuelan rap scene.
“A Mis Hermanos,” Aquiles Báez, 2011
While much of this songbook documents the friction of a nation in collapse, “A Mis Hermanos” (To My Brothers) stands as a monument to the resilience of the Venezuelan spirit through its musical roots. Originally composed by the late guitar virtuoso Aquiles Báez in 2006, this definitive 2014 version recorded in Caracas saw Báez convene a trabuco of musical masters: Nelson Echandía on bass, Fernando Rodríguez on cuatro, Héctor Hernández on saxophone, Baden Goyo on piano, Yilmer Vivas on drums, and Wilmer Montilla on maracas. This merengue caraqueño, defined by its sophisticated 5/8 rhythm, serves as a master class in Venezuelan identity, acting as a cultural anchor that prevents the nation’s heritage from being swallowed by the ongoing crisis.
“Mi Felicidad,” Víctor Muñoz & Nacho, 2015
Released weeks before the pivotal 2015 legislative elections, this upbeat pop ballad, a contrast to the gritty underground scene, was written to inspire a weary electorate. It was a powerhouse collaboration between pop singer Víctor Muñoz and urban star Nacho, an artist with global reach who would later go on to work with Yandel and Bad Bunny for the “Báilame” remix from 2017. The infectious chorus and high-energy rhythm served as a rallying cry for a nation that believed, in that fleeting moment, that change was truly within reach. Today, it remains a time capsule of a brief window in history when the Venezuelan opposition movement shifted from exhausted frustration to joyful expectation.
“Todo Está Muy Normal,” Desorden Público, 2015
The band faced censorship live on national television for denouncing corruption on stage right before singing this song during the broadcast of the state-funded Suena Caracas festival in 2014. They later released the censored footage alongside the track, creatively splicing in audio of Nicolás Maduro trying to diffuse the scandal. Despite facing criticism for appearing at government-sponsored events, Desorden Público used the incident to turn the song into a scathing, sarcastic indictment of the “normalization” of the Venezuelan collapse.
“La Grey Zuliana,” Guaco, 2016
While originally written in the Sixties by Ricardo Aguirre, the resurgence of “La Grey Zuliana” in 2016 marked a renewed era of folk-driven dissent. The song is the “national anthem” of gaita — a genre from western Venezuela synonymous with the Christmas season but deeply rooted in social commentary. This 2016 cover by the Latin Grammy-winning band Guaco reminded the country that Zulia, the epicenter of Venezuela’s oil wealth, was suffering from the collapse of public services. Around this time, the genre evolved to address the growing ache of the migrant crisis with “Abrázame Hermano” (Give Me a Hug, Brother), a collaboration between legendary gaitero Neguito Borjas and his nephew, the Latin Grammy nominee salsa singer Ronald Borjas. The track proved that even the most festive traditions had been reshaped by the tragedy of departure.
“Me Rehúso,” Danny Ocean, 2016
The global reggaeton smash is at its core an intimate protest. The popetón star Danny Ocean wrote it in Miami as a Valentine’s Day gift for the girlfriend he had to leave behind in Caracas when he emigrated to the U.S. “Me Rehúso,” which just passed the 2 billion mark in Youtube, proved that for the modern Venezuelan artist, “protest” isn’t always loud and overt. Sometimes, it’s a catchy urban ballad that refuses to let forced migration dictate the end of a love story.
“Mis Ilusiones,” SANLUIS featuring Voz Veis & Apache, 2017
Released during a year of intense civil unrest and an escalating humanitarian crisis, “Mis Ilusiones” (My Hopes), driven by a traditional cuatro melody, was a collaboration between the pop duo SANLUIS, formed by brothers Santiago and Luigi Castillo, former members of the iconic Latin Grammy-winning pop sextet Voz Veis, and the respected rapper Apache. Its music video served as a visual roll call of national pride, featuring a constellation of Venezuelan icons such as baseball superstar Omar Vizquel, Hollywood actor Edgar Ramírez, kinetic art master Carlos Cruz-Diez, NBA player Greivis Vásquez, and television presenter Maite Delgado. The song culminates in a hopeful coda with a children’s chorus that delivers the track’s defining, poignant promise: “Venezuela, I have my hopes in you.”
“Me Fui,” Reymar Perdomo featuring Sebastián Yatra, Fonseca, Fanny Lu, Leslie Shaw, Silvestre Dangond, Debi Nova, Víctor Muñoz, Andrés Cepeda, SANLUIS, Raquel Sofía, Juan Fernando Velasco, Santiago Cruz, Cáceres & Javier Ramírez, 2019
“I said, ‘Maduro, motherfucker,’” shouts the Venezuelan migrant Reymar Perdomo over a slowed-down reggaeton beat. If other songs on this list are lifeboats, “Me Fui” is the raw, tear-stained journal of the passenger. Originally written by Perdomo as she migrated by bus through South America, the song went viral after she was filmed singing it in the streets of Peru. In 2019, it was re-released as a massive collaboration featuring Latin music titans. The lyrics — “I left with my head full of doubts, but my heart full of my land” — became the reflection of millions of “caminantes” (walkers) fleeing the collapse. The track transformed an individual story into a continental conversation about solidarity and the shared pain of displacement.
“El Mensaje,” Gerry Weil ft Apache & Trina Medina, 2020
Austrian-born Venezuelan pianist Gerry Weil — widely revered as the “Father of Venezuelan Jazz” — was already in his eighties when he released this montuno track alongside the soulful voice of Trina Medina and the sharp lyricism of rapper Apache. The song that chants “We want no revolution, we want peace and solution,” playfully ends: “El mensaje es sabrrosoooo,” (the message is delicious), and it serves as an original rejection of the political rhetoric that had dominated the previous two decades.
“Caracas en el 2000,” Elena Rose featuring Danny Ocean & Jerry Di, 2023
This track marked the beginning of a new era for the diaspora scene, addressing the Venezuelan identity through a polished, global pop lens while remaining fiercely local in its slang and sentiment. Led by Latin Grammy-winning singer-songwriter Elena Rose and fellow countrymen Danny Ocean and Jerry Di, the song functions as a snapshot of their home pre-crisis. “Lo que yo daría por una vaina así, tu y yo en Caracas, como en el 2000” (What I’d give for something like that, you and I in Caracas, like in 2000), repeats the catchy chorus nestled between coming-of-age images shared by all Caraqueños — and the whole country by extension. By invoking nostalgia, the track became a digital bridge for millions, proving that while things have changed, the country remains as a collective memory.
“Escala en Panamá,” Danny Ocean, 2024
Released days before the pivotal July 2024 presidential elections as part of Ocean’s seven-track EP Venequia, “Escala en Panamá” (Layover in Panama) was an open and definitive backing of Venezuelan opposition leader María Corina Machado, who provides a cameo at the end of the official video. The title refers to the Tocumen International Airport, a primary transit hub of Venezuelan migrants. The song serves as a hopeful update to “Me Rehúso,” shifting from the pain of departure to the longing for return. Ocean performed an acoustic medley of “Alma Llanera” and “Venezuela” at the 2025 Nobel Peace Prize ceremony honoring Machado.
“Veneka,” Rawayana featuring Akapellah, 2024
This collaboration between alternative band Rawayana and heavyweight rapper Akapellah reclaimed the term “veneca,” a xenophobic slur against Venezuelan female migrants, and turned it into a defiant badge of pride. Produced by Mazzarri, the track beat is built on raptor house, a high-energy, underground electronic genre created by Dj Babatr in the barrios of Caracas at the turn of the millenia. The song’s massive popularity drew the public ire of Nicolás Maduro, who started a new administration facing international pressure after opposition denounced the 2024 elections result as fraudulent.
In a nationally broadcasted event, the Venezuelan leader labeled the song “offensive,” stating: “Venezuelans are not ‘venecas,’ they are Venezuelans.” This forced the cancellation of the band’s long-awaited 2024 homecoming tour — a move widely viewed as retaliation for Rawayana’s open support of opposition leader María Corina Machado. “Veneka” went on to win a Latin Grammy for Best Latin Electronic Music Performance in 2025.
“Aguacero,” Luis Enrique featuring C4 TRIO, 2024
This collaboration between Nicaraguan Grammy-winner Luis Enrique and the world-renowned Venezuelan folk ensemble C4 Trío favors the organic, percussive soul of the Venezuelan cuatro. The track builds to a chilling bridge that incorporates the melody and lyrics of the Venezuelan national anthem, “Gloria al Bravo Pueblo,” reimagining it as a prayer for a “downpour” to cleanse and renew the country’s collective spirit. Its cultural significance was cemented internationally when it won Best Roots Song at the 2025 Latin Grammys.
“El Caracazo 2025,” Crisler & Various Artists, 2025
Released in May 2025, this massive 13-minute collaboration serves as a raw response to the “polished” nostalgia of tracks like “Caracas en el 2000.” Orchestrated by Tanatox as producer, the track reunites over 20 of the most influential voices in Venezuelan hip-hop — including heavy-hitters like Apache, McKlopedia, Reke, and Big Soto. While the music from the diaspora often romanticizes a lost city, “El Caracazo 2025” functions as a gritty report from the pavement, stripping away the pop filters to expose a capital that for many years has been defined by survival and struggles.
“Si Te Pica Es Porque Eres Tú,” Rawayana, 2026
Released ahead of Rawayana’s sixth studio album, the opening track of ¿Dónde Es El After? arrived just days before the capture of Nicolás Maduro in Caracas by U.S. military forces. Wishing for a “New Year” where the “sons of bitches finally leave,” the track felt prescient as events of Jan. 3 unfolded. The song was used as the literal soundtrack for Venezuelans sharing the images of the announcement online.
The LP includes the interlude “El After del After,” which features archival audio of the late Venezuelan presenter and presidential candidate of 1978 elections Renny Ottolina. In the recording, Ottolina speaks of the danger of being “pigeonholed” (encasillarse) into specific factions, stating, “No soy de ningún grupo específico” (I am not from any specific group), and urging for a heart open to love rather than hate. In an exclusive interview with Rolling Stone Rawayana frontman Beto Montenegro said the band’s priority remains with the culture and the country.
