There are voices that not only sing but also sculpt time and restore the beauty of the world. Listening to Yaima Sáez is to embark on a sensory and emotional journey that connects the Cuba of the past century with that of the 21st century.
Born in the plains of Camagüey, her voice is an invisible bridge where the nostalgia of bolero, the cleverness of guaracha, the melancholy of blues, and the depth of trova coexist. Like a weaver of emotions, Yaima has skillfully transformed the legacy of great influences into a contemporary and universal language.
Personally, discovering her was a turning point: it was enough to hear her haunting version of "Cavando una tumba," a song immortalized by the legendary Leonora Rega, to become completely captivated and suddenly understand the immense and boundless vocal ability she possesses.
What is Yaima Sáez doing currently?
Currently, I am working in Mérida, Yucatán, and I would like to take this opportunity to thank businessman Carlos Sánchez for being a great advocate for Cuban music. Additionally, I am preparing for a very important moment in my career: sharing the stage once again with the great Meme Solís at the Ateneo de Madrid on December 19 of this year, which will also give me the chance to meet and share the stage with one of the most representative lyrical voices of Cuban music, soprano Alina Sánchez.
Camagüey is a city of cobblestones, large jars, and poetic silences. Did the architecture and mystery of your hometown shape your first notion of what beauty is?
Indeed, those of us born in Camagüey always speak with pride about our "camagüeyanidad." I believe that being part of those cobblestone streets, the tinajones, the stories between Amalia and Ignacio, the lyrics of La Avellaneda, Emilio Ballagas, or Nicolás Guillén, are legacies that definitely shape our upbringing.
Later, I had the figures of my paternal grandmother María Esther, who loved to sing, and my mother, who has been the stronghold and always the example to follow.
Your beginnings were inclined towards sports, but when did your love for singing awaken?
Well, the real reason I started in sports was for my health, as I was asthmatic as a child. Later on, to overcome my shyness, basketball came into my life, followed by handball, which provided me with a strong sense of teamwork, independence, determination, and tenacity. I played as a pivot.
With this sport, I had the opportunity to travel throughout all of Cuba, eventually reaching the top category. Later, I decided to immerse myself more in sports through Psychology, until music came into my life, thanks to the instructor Irma Sariol, at the ISCF "Manuel Fajardo" in Camagüey.
Later, the “In Search of Talent” contest took me to the International Bolero Festival in Havana in 2005. And there, meeting the Watercolorist of Antillean Poetry, Luis Carbonell, marked the turning point in choosing the path of music.
I want to express that my training is entirely self-taught, meaning I did not attend ENA or ISA. I have forged my path alongside musician friends and directors like Professor Hugo Oslé.
Specifically, about Yaima the singer. I remember that rendition of "En mi viejo San Juan" that you sang to Víctor and Evelyn, two Puerto Ricans representing continental athletics, at the galas of Cuba's beloved sport. For me and many others, it's one of the best versions of that iconic song. I can't forget your performances at the Roday Café, at Gato Tuerto, and on so many other stages. Simply put, what does singing mean to you?
For me, singing is a way of life; it is my passion, something I enjoy and live for. I recognize that the decision to embark on the path of music was significant and marked a milestone in my life.
I will always be grateful to the Café Concert Gato Tuerto for being my school, with all the great figures that have graced its stage; I thank Maestro Hugo Oslé for trusting me and giving me a place in that iconic venue of Havana's nightlife.
If you had to choose a song from your repertoire to serenade or define love...
Difficult question, but if I had to choose, it would be two songs: “To Live” and “Love Me as I Am,” both by Pablo Milanés.
Your versatility allows you to move effortlessly from son and guaracha to bolero, ballad, and blues. How do you manage to find the common aesthetic thread that connects such seemingly different genres?
First, it was about getting to know myself and truly understanding music as a phenomenon that must reach the audience with authenticity. From there, the next step was to find a unique style to represent each genre.
Your work pays implicit homage to the golden era of figures like Marta Estrada, Martha Valdés, Elena Burke, Pablo Milanés... What secrets of elegance and drama from those years of the 20th century do you most strongly defend in the 21st century?
I believe the best secret of those legends was their authenticity and brilliance, in addition to being humble within their greatness. Therefore, for those of us who follow, it remains to defend that authenticity with humility and thus honor those legacies.
The trova seeks poetry in words; the bolero, emotion in heartache. At which of these two musical altars does Yaima Sáez's soul feel more exposed and free?
I feel very comfortable with both genders; I manage to understand them, and I believe they understand me as well. Perhaps that's why they grant me a lot of freedom to blend them together.
Singing blues in Cuba or performing a son with modern touches is an act of boldness. How does beauty transform when the boundaries of languages and cultures intersect in your voice?
Yes, it is indeed a bold move in Cuba to shift away from defending the classics as they were previously heard, to create more innovative musical arrangements. Especially for me, a singer with a contralto voice, from whom the Cuban audience expects a defense of the classics, just as Elena or Moraima did.
But the wonderful part is when you take a risk and the audience is able to understand and appreciate it. I can tell you that seeing the reaction of the viewer—first surprised, and then admiring—fills me with satisfaction and allows me to push further. It's one of the most beautiful moments of my professional life. It's similar with the blues; it's the same level of acceptance.
What contemporary song or artist do you think has managed to capture that same mystique of eternal beauty that the classics of Cuban music possessed in this century?
For me, there are few Cuban composers in this century who preserve the eternal beauty of Cuban songwriting, but I want to highlight here X Alfonso, Kelvis Ochoa, Carlos Varela, and Descemer Bueno.
You have one of the most powerful voices in Cuba, but sometimes the singing turns into an intimate whisper. How does one learn to tame the strength to deliver pure sweetness?
Having a powerful voice can sometimes make you feel very powerful, but what’s interesting is when we learn to sing softly, to convey the song, to interpret it.
I highly appreciate the lessons from the great Cuban guitarist Juanito Martínez. Furthermore, being part of musicals or portraying characters, or defending the work of a composer who truly understands the emotion they wish to convey and takes you to that moment, helps you better understand the horizon of your possibilities.
Therefore, the presence of Luis Carbonell, Tomás Morales, Santiago Alfonso, Lizt Alfonso, Pablo Milanés, and Marta Valdés is absolutely essential here.
The phrasing in bolero requires delaying or advancing the words to play with emotion (rubato). How do you technically manage the musical tempo so that the singing feels like a spoken conversation that speaks directly to the heart?
Look, that phrasing typical of the bolero, the filin, is one of the important phenomena for good singing. I say it's a Cuban way of singing; you can only hear that phrasing in Cuban performers, and it's something we must strongly defend.
Cuba is currently going through an extremely complex and challenging economic and daily situation. From your perspective, how can beauty be found in everyday life when daily struggles become so difficult for people? Is beauty possible in such a desperate reality?
Finding beauty in chaos can sometimes be poetic, but what is happening in Cuba is more than that; it involves serious problems that deeply harm values of belonging, the sense of Cuban identity and nationality, unity—and in that... there is no beauty! Only sadness can be felt.
What is it that will never lose its beauty in Cuba, that even the toughest circumstances cannot extinguish?
What should never be lost is the feeling of pride in who you are and where you come from; we must never cease to feel joy and pride in being Cuban.
If today's Yaima Sáez could sit down to talk with that little girl who sang for the first time in Camagüey, what would she whisper to her about destiny, music, and the beauty of life?
I'm sure she would tell the girl: get ready because there are ups and downs coming... haha! You will be surprised by how much you will achieve.
With your album Doce joyas, you gave voice to the work of maestro Roberto Valera. In the midst of so many challenges, why does singing and defending these "jewels" of Cuban music remain your greatest act of faith?
Defending this album meant a tremendous journey of new adventures like music production and then getting to know the brilliant musicality of maestro Roberto Valera, who one fine day called me and said he wanted me to sing his songs.
When we met and I heard his works, I didn't waste any more time and proposed the production to BisMusic through José Manuel García, who was the executive producer.
Valera's work in songs truly showcases that there is hope and faith in the defense of the Cuban song tradition that flourished so much in the 1940s and into the 1960s of the last century... And I sing those dreams!
If the pain and reality of present-day Cuba were a song, today we would be playing the most heartbreaking chords; when this crisis finally passes… because it has to pass! What will be the eternal chord that will save our Island and bring back the light?
Culture is the hallmark of a nation, shaped by the individuals who make up that nation. When a few do not respond to the demands and suffering of many, disappointment ensues, leading to a loss of pride and trust in a process or an idea.
A dangerous moment for those who defend or believe that a better world is possible. I believe it is!
If I had to choose a song to describe what is happening to us Cubans today, I would undoubtedly choose "Como los peces" by Carlos Varela, and I select it for its narrative, for its truth. But above all, I choose this song because, although almost everything is black or white, there is always a color… ¡FAITH!
In recent times, we have witnessed how the talent and thoughts of valuable intellectuals and artists have ended in exile. What happens to the culture and the heart of a nation when its brightest minds are forced to sing or write from a distance? There lies the answer: what can restore our light?
Perhaps the answer lies, precisely, in music, in culture in general. In that stubborn ability of art to survive pain, to preserve what time and distance attempt to erase, and to build bridges where others erect walls. Cuba has seen many of its most insightful voices depart, and when a creator is forced to sing from afar, it is not just one person who leaves: a part of the memory, of identity, of the heart of a nation is displaced. But a song knows no borders. It travels. It endures. It returns.
And perhaps that is why, at the end of this conversation, I return to that question that Yaima leaves hanging like a suspended chord: what can bring us back the light? Perhaps it is faith. Perhaps it is culture. Perhaps it is that truth that some artists continue to defend, even when everything around seems to be crumbling. Perhaps it is the voices that, from the Island or from anywhere in the world, refuse to let beauty die.
Because as long as there are those who sing, who remember, who create, who love, and who dare to speak the truth, Cuba will continue to have a song yet to be sung. And perhaps one day, when the night passes… for nights do pass too! …we will find together that eternal chord capable of bringing back the Island's light.
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