Danzón: Cuba's National Dance That Conquered the World

On the night of January 1, 1879, while Cuba still navigated the turbulent waters of Spanish colonialism, something magical happened at the Liceo de Matanzas. A young mulatto musician named Miguel Faílde took the stage with his orchestra and premiered a piece that would forever change Cuban music: Las Alturas de Simpson.

That night, the danzón, Cuba’s national dance, was born.

From Contradanza to Danzón: A Musical Revolution

Danzón didn’t emerge from nothing. It was the result of decades of cultural fusion on an island where European, African, and Caribbean traditions coexisted. Its roots lie in the contradanza, a ballroom dance that arrived in Cuba through Spain and Haitian immigration following the 1791 revolution.

But Faílde did something revolutionary: he incorporated the cinquillo and tresillo, rhythmic patterns of African origin, creating an entirely new genre. Danzón was slower, more sensual, more Cuban.

“In Matanzas at this time there was a kind of square dance for twenty couples who carried arches and flowers. It was really a dance of figures, and its moves were adapted to the tempo of the habanera, which we took over for the danzón.” — Miguel Faílde

Miguel Faílde: Father of the Danzón

Miguel Ramón Demetrio Faílde Pérez was born on December 23, 1852, in Guamacaro, a small town in Matanzas province. Son of a Galician father and an Afro-Cuban mother, Faílde embodied the cultural fusion that would define his music.

He learned to play the cornet as a young man and formed his own orquesta típica. He’s credited with composing 144 danzones and other works, establishing the foundations of a genre that would dominate Cuban ballrooms for half a century.

The Structure of Danzón

Danzón has a very particular structure that distinguishes it:

1. Introduction or paseo (A): 16 bars where couples don’t dance but stroll elegantly
2. Main theme (B): The flute carries the principal melody
3. Repeat of the paseo: Dancers rest, chat, flirt
4. Trio (C): The violins take the lead

This ABACAB structure created a unique experience: dancers didn’t just dance—they lived the music, with pause moments where the woman would fan herself while conversing intimately with her partner.

The Scandal of Danzón

Today it seems like an elegant, refined dance, but in its time danzón was considered scandalous. Couples danced closer than ever, with “obscene hip movements,” according to critics of the era.

Havana newspapers published alarmed articles:

“Because I love my country, it hurts me to see danzón at gatherings of decent people.”

“We recommend banning the danza and danzón because they are vestiges of Africa and should be replaced by essentially European dances such as the quadrille and rigadoon.”

Behind these criticisms lurked concerns about miscegenation and racial mixing in ballrooms. But danzón triumphed: it became the dominant popular music in Cuba until the arrival of son cubano in the 1920s.

From Cuba to Mexico: Danzón Travels

The port of Veracruz was danzón’s gateway to Mexico, where it found a second homeland. While in Cuba the genre yielded ground to son and mambo, in Mexico danzón flourished.

Today, the plazas of Veracruz, Oaxaca, and Mexico City fill with older couples dancing danzón every weekend. The film Danzón (1991) by María Novaro immortalized this Mexican tradition.

Mexican composer Arturo Márquez’s Danzón No. 2 has become one of the most performed Latin American orchestral pieces in the world:

Danzón as Father of Mambo and Cha-Cha-Chá

Danzón didn’t die; it evolved. In 1910, José Urfé added a montuno to the end of his danzón El Bombín de Barretto, incorporating son elements. This innovation opened the door to new genres:

• Danzón-mambo: Direct precursor to Pérez Prado’s mambo
• Cha-cha-chá: Developed by Enrique Jorrín in the 1950s
• Pachanga: Fusion of danzón and son montuno

Without danzón, modern salsa wouldn’t exist.

National Heritage: 2013

In November 2013, Cuba officially declared danzón Intangible Cultural Heritage of the Nation. The title was symbolically received by Ethiel Fernández Faílde, then 22 years old and Miguel Faílde’s great-great-grandson.

The gesture was more than ceremonial: it was recognition that danzón is a fundamental part of Cuban identity.

Orquesta Faílde: The Legacy Lives

The most beautiful chapter of danzón’s story is being written today in Matanzas. In 2012, flutist Ethiel Faílde, a direct descendant of Miguel Faílde, founded Orquesta Faílde with a clear mission: revitalize danzón without turning it into a museum piece.

The orchestra combines classic danzones with contemporary arrangements, maintaining the essence while attracting new generations. Their success has been extraordinary:

• 2023: First Latin Grammy nomination
• 2024: Second Latin Grammy nomination
• 2025: Third Latin Grammy nomination for Caminando Piango Piango
• Cubadisco Award: Recognition for heritage preservation

“In the orchestra there must be that connection or synergy between the traditional, the safeguarding of Cuban sound heritage, and the imprint of new generations.” — Ethiel Faílde

Where to Dance Danzón Today

In Cuba

• Festival Internacional Danzón Habana: Annual celebration in Havana
• Encuentro Internacional Danzonero “Miguel Faílde In Memoriam”: In Matanzas, the birthplace of danzón
• Casa de la Cultura de Matanzas: Regular events

In Mexico

• Plaza de la Constitución (Zócalo): Sundays in Mexico City
• Main Plaza of Veracruz: Mexico’s danzón capital
• Festival del Danzón in Oaxaca: Annual event

Danzón in the 21st Century

Nearly 150 years after Las Alturas de Simpson, danzón remains alive. Not as a museum relic, but as a living tradition constantly reinventing itself.

Orquesta Faílde fills theaters in Colombia, the United States, and Europe. Young musicians in Matanzas learn to play danzón in music schools. And in Veracruz’s plazas, couples of all ages continue dancing to the rhythm a young mulatto invented in a Matanzas Liceo nearly a century and a half ago.

Danzón isn’t just music or just dance. It’s the first great synthesis of what it means to be Cuban: the impossible fusion of Europe and Africa, of the formal and the sensual, of tradition and innovation.

As one critic of the era said, fearing what would come: “First we had the danza, then came the danzón… next it will be the rumba, and finally we’ll all end up dancing ñáñigo!”

He was right. And thank goodness for that.

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Want to learn more about the genres danzón spawned? Read about Changüí from Guantánamo, another forgotten root of Cuban music, or discover the story of Benny Moré, the Bárbaro del Ritmo who took Cuban son to the world.