Buckle up for a high-octane corrido! In Recordando A Manuel, Gerardo Ortiz joins forces with Lenin Ramírez and Jesús Chairez to pay tribute to Manuel Torres, a larger-than-life figure from the rugged ranchlands around Culiacán, Sinaloa. The lyrics paint cinematic snapshots: thirty-truck convoys roaring through the plains, armored vests glinting in the sun, rifles at the ready, and brass-band trumpets blaring as they cruise past higuera and palma trees. Manuel is remembered as both a humble man of the countryside and a fearsome leader whose life took a dark turn after his son was killed, igniting a relentless quest for vengeance that earned him the nickname El Ondeado (“the reckless one”).
Despite the violent imagery—skirmishes with marines, blazing shootouts, and rival gunmen who “are no longer here to tell the tale”—the song also captures the loyalty, camaraderie, and pride that define Sinaloan corridos. Mentions of loyal comrades (Picho, Mele, the 6, the 24, M2) and iconic Escalades cruising Route 15 blend with nostalgic nods to cattle fairs and banda dances, creating a complex portrait of a man who was feared by enemies, revered by friends, and woven deeply into the cultural fabric of the region. Listening to this song is like leafing through a gritty photo album of Sinaloa’s underworld legend whose legacy still “pesas el apellido” (makes his family name feel heavy) long after he’s gone.