From Trap to Salvi Rock: Eddie Escalante Found His Sound

Years ago, somewhere in the endless rabbit hole of social media, I came across this Salvadoran dude making music. At the time, I remember him primarily as a producer experimenting with trap, rap and hip hop.

I remember thinking: This dude looks cool. I started following him. And then, he just disappeared. No dramatic story. I just didn't hear much about him for a while.

Sometimes when it looks like nothing is happening, everything is happening.

They're experimenting. Failing. Producing. Writing. Changing their minds. Making songs nobody hears. Figuring out what they actually want to sound like.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, they emerge.

And a year or two ago, Eddie popped back into my feed as something I definitely wasn't expecting:

One of the most interesting Salvadoran rock voices I'd come across.

Salvi Goth Rock.

And I remember thinking:

Wait. I know that foo.

Somewhere along the way, he found it

Suddenly, I started seeing Eddie everywhere within our little Salvadoran creative ecosystem.

People were talking about him. Friends knew him. Musicians wanted to work with him. And, most importantly:

Dude has pipes. Eddie is legitimately a powerhouse vocalist.

Over time, I've realized he's much more than the "Salvi Goth Rock" label. He's a producer, vocalist and songwriter who's spent years bouncing between genres: trap, hip hop, perreo, rock, post punk, dark wave and electronic music.

Lately, though, something about the rock feels different. It feels like he found home.

He's moving away from calling himself strictly "Salvi Goth Rock" and leaning more broadly into Salvi Rock, which honestly makes sense. His sound is too fluid to live inside one tiny box.

But pound for pound?

My boy is a really fucking good rockero.

Music for the emo boys

If you need proof, listen to his rendition of "Lamento Boliviano."

Si sos un emo like me, prepare yourself. You can hear the pain in this man's voice.

It's gorgeous. It's powerful. It's also concerning. So naturally I asked him:

"Bro... who hurt you?"

Some girl.

It's always some girl.

Whoever you are, ma'am, I hope you're doing well. But maybe don't find him again. We need the music.

One thing I appreciate about Eddie: behind the rockero persona and the puro desvergue is someone who's comfortable being emotional.

He's an emo boy. I'm an emo boy. We cry. It's healthy.

• 

• 

• 

One of the things we unexpectedly connected over was El Salvador.

I once posted about crying on my way to the airport after leaving El Salvador. Eddie reached out and basically told me, Bro, I cry every time too.

There's something difficult to explain about returning to the country your family comes from and then having to leave it again.

Especially for those of us living between cultures, the motherland can hit somewhere deeper than language or nationality. Food tastes familiar even when you've never eaten that particular dish. Certain places somehow feel remembered.

Sometimes going back feels like a warm hug. And sometimes leaving fucking hurts.

That's why I connect with artists who aren't afraid to put emotion into the work.

Apparently Juan Momoa can cook up more than music

Over time, I got to know Eddie through social media and our conversations around music and El Salvador.

Then I finally met him in person.

This dude walks up wearing sunglasses looking like the Salvadoran Jason Momoa. Apparently I'm not the first person to think this.

He's confirmed that people have called him Juan Momoa.

Personally, I'm going with:

Juan Papi Momoa.

You're welcome, Eddie.

As I've gotten to know him beyond the music, I've discovered something else important: My guy knows food.

Eddie loves pan con pollo. I'm personally team pan con chumpe, but nobody's perfect.

Recently we sat down at Caña Rum Bar and ate with Walking Spanish, where Chef René Coreas and Stephanie Coreas are doing the kind of experimental Central American cooking I've spent the last few years documenting.

Watching Eddie encounter those pupusas was fun because these aren't your standard revueltas.

It also got me thinking: Maybe we need Juan Papi Momoa's Food Tour.

Eddie, call me.

The Salvi rockero

More recently, I ended up at Knucklehead with Eddie, and I swear I felt like I was standing next to rocker royalty.

Everybody seemed to know this foo. People wanted to say hi. People wanted to talk music. There was this sense that Eddie belonged in that room, not because he was trying to convince everyone he was somebody, but because he'd already been putting in the work.

That distinction matters. It's easy to discover someone when everybody is already talking about them. It's much more interesting to realize you've been quietly watching somebody build toward that moment for years.

That's what Eddie represents to me.

The first version I encountered wasn't fully formed yet. He was experimenting. And he still is.

He's taken classic reggaetón and played with it through dark wave and post punk aesthetics. He's created original songs like "Loca Mujer." He's developing "Desvergue." He produces. He writes. He sings.

And there are some collaborations floating around that I'm not allowed to talk about yet.

Wink wink.

But I want to hear them.

One of the coolest things happening within Salvadoran creative culture right now is watching artists find one another.

PURO DESVERGUE

That's also why I'm excited that Cultura Fest is collaborating with Eddie on something new:

PURO DESVERGUE

The concept is pretty simple.

Come dance.

Come listen to rock.

Come listen to Spanish rock, dark wave and synth.

Come see some art.

Come desahogarte un poco.

Come hang out with cool people.

And yes:

Puro Desvergue.

Eddie will open the night with a special acoustic set, followed by the headlining performance from Eddie y Los Vamps, alongside The God Bombs, Poxsey and DJ Lord Ray.

• 

• 

• 

The visual art show is curated by Lvynx, featuring WavyxAngel, David RxV and Lorenzo Hall.

The night takes place October 25, 2026, at Knucklehead Hollywood.

I'm excited because events like this are part of what I want Cultura Fest to become.

A place where Salvadoran and Central American artists can experiment, collaborate and build scenes around work that doesn't always fit people's expectations of what our culture is supposed to look or sound like.

Because Salvadoran culture doesn't have to be one thing.

We can have cumbia.

We can have hip hop.

We can have reggaetón.

We can have folklórico.

And yes:

We can have goth kids crying in the club.

There is room for all of it.

The work nobody saw

I followed this random Salvadoran producer years ago because I thought he looked cool.

Then I stopped hearing about him. And years later, I looked around and realized:

Oh shit. That guy found his thing.

Except he didn't magically find it.

He worked toward it.

The producer existed before the vocalist people are discovering now. The trap experiments mattered. The rap mattered. The weird genre experiments mattered. The songs that worked and the ones that probably didn't all mattered.

Finding your voice requires spending years figuring out all the things your voice can be.

And Eddie is still hungry to find more.

So if you're a musician looking for someone to produce, write, sing or collaborate with, hit him up.

If you're Salvadoran and you've been waiting for somebody to soundtrack your emo phase, hit play.

If you're a foodie, ask him where to eat.

And if you're heartbroken?

Put on "Lamento Boliviano."

Cry it out.

Juan Papi Momoa understands. 😭🇸🇻🤘🏽

Faces of Cultura — documenting the people moving our culture forward, one portrait at a time.

Who should we document next?