It’s All Love on Rauw Alejandro’s ‘Cosa Nuestra’
Rauw Alejandro is already a star. But his new album, Cosa Nuestra, named after a classic 1969 LP by Puerto Rican salsa icons Willie Colón and Héctor Lavoe, sees Alejandro striving for something grander: to put himself in the same timeless Puerto Rican canon as his idols. It’s an album inspired in near-equal parts by R&B and the Fania All-Stars; a record that draws equally from Pharrell Williams, who is featured on “Committed,” as much as it does from salsa legends like Frankie Ruiz, covered by Alejandro on “Tú Con él.”
Over the course of his previous four albums, Alejandro’s finest skill has come to be his ability to alchemize genres. His 2021 sophomore project, Vice Versa, switched readily from glossy pop to rowdy reggaeton instantaneously; certain tracks on last year’s Playa Saturno and its predecessor, Saturno, could have been sent down from a neighboring galaxy’s all-night discoteca.
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Cosa Nuestra is no different. Over the course of its 18 tracks, it switches gears to look to the past as well as the future. Traditional Latin instrumentation and hazy, jazz-club sonics are frequently blended with stadium--filling synthesizers and fluttering hi-hats. He’s always had a penchant for the dramatic — and on this record, the character of Rauw Ale-jandro instead goes by his birth name, Raúl, which, according to him, “has more of a telenovela vibe.” That “vibe” is due in part to the use of a live band that includes his father, also named Raúl, on guitar. It’s a synergy that becomes evident on the bachata--like outro of “Déjame Entrar,” the sultry guitar on “2:12 AM,” and the pleasantly surprising saxophone on “Khé?”
It’s also an album about heartbreak. Last year, Alejandro and his then-fiancée, Spanish pop star Rosalía, called off their engagement; it makes Cosa Nuestra his first project post-split. The forlorn narrator isn’t something new when it comes to Latin music (Even the record’s namesake includes lyrics that translate to things like “Regardless of your absence/I will keep waiting for you”),. So it makes sense, then, that Alejandro turns to those who came before for inspiration.
This pivot, in its blatant homage to the classics and the orquestra days of yore, stacks the odds against Alejandro at times. What gave a lot of salsa musicians like Colón and Lavoe their charm was the ability to appear as both alluring gangsters and empathic storytellers. Alejandro, despite his best intentions on songs like the project’s smoky opener, “Cosa Nuestra,” is a bit too polished for it to totally work.
It’s not to say that he isn’t trying. What he continues to do well, though, is assert himself as one of the most exciting reggaetoneros working today. The next generation of Latin superstars is one who can be malleable across the diaspora’s various sounds, and fittingly, a lot of the album feels designed to fit on a worldwide stage. Songs like “Il Capo” and “Baja Pa’ Aca’” sound like they’d excel live, alongside large plumes of smoke and blown-out speakers. – which makes sense, considering Alejandro has spent most of his 2024 headlining festivals across North America. A highlight is the rave-ready “Mil Mujeres,” a song that morphs from a twinkling serenade to a EDMerengue, complete with laser sound effects, phonk 808s, and a drum-and-bass breakdown. It’s like he went into the studio after hearing Bad Bunny’s “Después de la Playa” and said “let’s do the same thing – but this time for the club.” It’s incredibly successful, highlighting the playfulness that continues to make Alejandro a compelling artist.
A lot of the record also aims to outfit this “Raúl” character as a playboy with a sensitive side. On “Amar de Nuevo,” he laments, “Sufrir no es nuevo pa’ mí” — “Suffering is not new to me” — and on other songs, like “Se Fue,” a duet with Italian singer Laura Pausini, he talks about someone leaving, for reasons he can’t quite figure out. It’s easy here to read between the lines as to who that person could be, and suggests a more candid, mature Alejandro. But as much as he yearns for his lost love, he also fixates on a sex-forward lifestyle, almost to the point of parody. It seems more intentional than earnest, but still: “Espresso Martini” is a silky R&B come-down filled with awkward phrases like “El sexo es el lenguaje,” and the album’s closer, “Sexxx-machine,” is just as hedonistic.
But that song is endearingly genuine too. In the album’s final moments, Alejandro thanks his fans, his collaborators, and his band. Cosa Nuestra, after all, translates to “our thing,” and in the final seconds of this project he offers, “con mucho amor y cari?o para todos ustedes.” No matter what comes his way, it’s all love, whether it be for his previous relationships, his new affections, or his Puerto Rican idols.
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