There are voices that not only sing but also carve out time and restore the beauty of the world. Listening to Yaima Sáez is an emotional and sensory journey that connects the Cuba of the last 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 playfulness 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 listen to her haunting version of "Cavando una tumba," a song immortalized by the legendary Leonora Rega, to be completely captivated and to suddenly understand her immense and boundless vocal ability.
What is Yaima Sáez currently doing?
I am currently working in Mérida, Yucatán, and I would like to thank the businessman Carlos Sánchez for being a great advocate of Cuban music. Additionally, I am preparing for a very important moment in my career: rejoining the stage with the great Meme Solís at the Ateneo in Madrid on December 19 of this year, which will also give me the opportunity to meet and share the stage with one of the most representative lyrical voices of Cuban music, the 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?
Well, yes, those of us who were 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 e Ignacio, the poetry of La Avellaneda, Emilio Ballagas, or Nicolás Guillén, are legacies that definitely shape one's upbringing.
Later, I had the figures of my paternal grandmother María Esther, who loved to sing, and my mother, who has always been a stronghold and 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, because I was asthmatic as a child. Later on, in order to improve my shyness, basketball came into my life, and then handball, which was a sport that provided me with a great sense of camaraderie, independence, willpower, and tenacity. I was a pivot.
With this sport, I had the opportunity to travel all over Cuba, reaching the highest level. Later, I decided to engage more deeply in sports through Psychology, until music came into my life, thanks to instructor Irma Sariol, at the ISCF "Manuel Fajardo" in Camagüey.
Later, the contest "In Search of Talent" took me to the International Bolero Festival in Havana in 2005. There, meeting the Aquarist of Antillean Poetry, Luis Carbonell, marked the turning point in choosing the path of music.
I want to express that my training is completely self-taught, that is, no ENA, no ISA. I have forged my path alongside musician friends and conductors like Professor Hugo Oslé.
Indeed, I am referring to the singer Yaima. I remember that performance of "En mi viejo San Juan" you dedicated to Víctor and Evelyn, two Puerto Rican representatives of continental athletics, at the galas of Cuban sports. For me and many others, it remains one of the best renditions of that iconic song. I can't forget your performances at Rodair's Café, at Gato Tuerto, and so many other venues. 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 this journey in music was significant and marked a milestone in my life.
I am always grateful for the school that the Café Concert Gato Tuerto was for me, with all the great figures who passed through there; I thank Maestro Hugo Oslé for trusting me and giving me a space in that emblematic place of Havana's nightlife.
If you had to choose a song from your repertoire to soothe or define love...
Difficult question, but if I had to choose, it would be two songs: "Para vivir" and "Ámame como soy," both by Pablo Milanés.
Your versatility allows you to transition 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 deep sincerity. From there, what followed was finding my own style to effectively defend 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 the elegance and drama of those years in the 20th century do you champion most strongly in the midst of the 21st century?
I believe that the greatest secret of those legends was their authenticity and brilliance, as well as their humility within their greatness. Therefore, it falls to us who follow to uphold that authenticity with humility and thus honor those legacies.
Trova seeks poetry in words; bolero seeks emotion in anguish. 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 give me a lot of freedom to blend.
Singing the 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 converge in your voice?
Yes, it is truly audacious in Cuba to stop defending the classics as they were once heard, in order to create more transgressive musical arrangements, especially for me, a singer with a contralto voice, from whom the Cuban audience expects to uphold the classics as Elena or Moraima did.
But the beauty lies in taking risks and having the audience understand and appreciate it. I can assure you that seeing the reaction of the viewer—first surprised and then admiring—fills me with satisfaction and allows me to go further. It is one of the most beautiful moments of my professional life. The same applies to the blues; it’s the same level of acceptance.
What contemporary song or artist, in this century, do you think has managed to capture that same mystique of eternal beauty that the classics of Cuban songwriting possessed?
For me, there are few Cuban composers this century who preserve that timeless beauty of Cuban song, but I want to highlight in this case X Alfonso, Kelvis Ochoa, Carlos Varela, and Descemer Bueno.
You have one of the most powerful voices in Cuba, but sometimes your singing turns into an intimate whisper. How do you learn to harness that strength to deliver pure sweetness?
Having a powerful voice can sometimes make you feel very strong, but what’s interesting is when we learn to sing softly, to convey the song, to interpret it.
I am very grateful for the lessons from the great Cuban guitarist Juanito Martínez. Additionally, being a 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 gain a better understanding of the horizon of your possibilities.
Therefore, the presence of Luis Carbonell, Tomás Morales, Santiago Alfonso, Lizt Alfonso, Pablo Milanés, and Marta Valdés is extremely important here.
The phrasing in bolero requires delaying or advancing the words to play with emotion (the rubato). How do you technically manage the musical tempo so that the singing feels like a spoken conversation that goes straight to the heart?
Look, that phrasing characteristic of the bolero, the filin sound are important phenomena for good singing. I say it's a Cuban way of singing; you can only hear those phrasings in Cuban performers, and it's something we must strongly defend.
Cuba is currently facing an extremely complex and challenging economic and everyday situation. From your perspective, how do you find beauty in the mundane when daily life becomes 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; there are serious issues causing deep harm to values of belonging, to the sense of Cuban identity and nationality. In that unity... there is no beauty—only sadness can be felt.
What is it that will never lose its beauty in Cuba, something that no difficult circumstance can extinguish?
What must never be lost is the pride in who you are and where you come from; we should never stop feeling 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 in her ear about destiny, music, and the beauty of life?
I am sure she would tell the girl: get ready because there are twists ahead... haha! You will be amazed at how much you are going to achieve.
With your album Doce joyas, you gave voice to the work of master Roberto Valera. Amidst so many challenges, why does singing and defending these "jewels" of Cuban music remain your greatest act of faith?
Defending this album has been an incredible journey of new adventures, such as music production, and then getting to know the brilliant musicality of maestro Roberto Valera, who one fine day called me and told me he wanted me to sing his songs.
When we met and I listened to their 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 exemplifies that there is hope and faith in the defense of that Cuban songwriting tradition that flourished so much in the 1940s to the 1960s… And I sing those dreams!
If the pain and reality of present-day Cuba were a song, today we are playing the most heart-wrenching chords; when this crisis finally passes… because it has to pass! What is the everlasting chord that will save our Island and bring back the light?
Culture is the hallmark of a nation, and it is the human beings that make up that nation who are responsible for shaping it. When a few do not respond to the demands and suffering of many, disappointment arises, leading to a loss of pride and credibility in a process or an idea.
A dangerous moment for those who defend or believe that a better world is possible. I think it is!
If I had to choose a song to describe what we are experiencing today as Cubans, without a doubt I would pick “Como los peces,” by Carlos Varela and I choose 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 up in exile. What happens to the culture and the heart of a nation when its brightest minds are forced to sing or write from afar? There lies the answer: what can bring us back the 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 try 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, identity, and heart of a nation is displaced. But a song knows no borders. It travels. It remains. It returns.
And perhaps that's 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’s faith. Perhaps it’s culture. Perhaps it’s that truth that some artists continue to defend, even when everything around seems to be crumbling. Perhaps it’s 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, those who remember, those who create, those who love, and those who dare to tell the truth, Cuba will continue to have an unfinished song. And perhaps one day, when the night passes... because nights do pass as well!, we will find together that eternal chord capable of restoring light to the Island.
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