Always Remember with Love

The light of Friday, September 19, was almost fading over the historic steps of the University of Havana, where different generations, most of them very young, awaited his arrival. There, at the feet of the Alma Mater, Silvio Rodríguez would be present to share the joy of cultivating together ideas, inquiries, infinite feelings, and reflections. He stands out among the most important composers and performers of the Cuban Nueva Trova movement, recognized internationally for his contributions to contemporary song through poetics, sounds, and rhythms.

One had to be there. The call spread quickly, word of mouth, through universities, neighborhoods, and Havana’s streets. The concert was a prelude to his upcoming tour through Chile, Argentina, Uruguay, Peru, and Colombia. University students would have the privilege of being first. To see, listen, and enjoy the art of someone who insists on being a trovador, even when accompanied by orchestral arrangements in albums or live performances, as happened on this occasion: lending tenderness to a unique experience.

The audience called for eternal songs. Someone held a sign reflecting a popular sentiment: “I love you, Silvio!” And before performing Ala de Colibrí, he himself pulled out his camera to capture the moment. Staying alert inspired photojournalist José Manuel Correa Armas, who placed himself precisely where he needed to be, considering composition and seizing decisive instants of remarkable expressiveness.

Correa knows well that in photography the smallest detail can become a great theme. He found the vantage point to “see” the trovador with his guitar, pushing aside the stand that obstructed him, while the audience waved Cuban, Chilean, and Palestinian flags. In that academic setting, Silvio’s voice resonated as he denounced Israeli genocide, paid tribute to José Martí with the strength of his thought, and recalled verses by the unforgettable Wichy Nogueras, too often overlooked.

At all times, the trovador defended the act of remembrance. He performed pieces from his 2024 album Quería saber. His eloquence testified to essential virtues: keeping one’s feet firmly on the ground. He once told BOHEMIA in an exclusive interview: “Singing brings pain, joy; at the same time it teaches much about life.” That is why he rejects complacency and probes into daily reality. Unforgettable is his confession: “I believe that the troubadour, in his intent to make poetry and to dive into reality, into the complexities of the world, by not making cheap songs and not bending to commercial music, makes a cultural and ethical contribution to society.”

An artist with deep roots, he questions, unsettles, and inspires thought. Sensitive, cultured, revolutionary, he shares his own convictions. Not by coincidence did he tour prisons and neighborhoods. He went in search of the people: his reason for being and creating.

During the concert, he returned to emblematic songs: La maza, Ángel para un final, El necio… He also offered a much-anticipated debut, an unpublished track from his forthcoming self-titled album Cualquiera que nace en Cuba. Tireless, he never ceases to create. For Silvio, time rolls forward at an incredible pace. He once assured us: “I feel that I am Cuba.” He never fails to ask: “Let hope come; because it may arrive in any color: green, red, or black, but with love.”

The fortune of having him near—and now presenting the record captured by Correa, who pursued the light and made it his own—compelled us to keep remembering in the days after the concert. At times Silvio has been called the man of a thousand songs, the troubadour of the multitudes, perhaps because his cultural heritage and outlook are marked by deeply felt concepts. He once remarked: “José Zacarías Tallet recognized that there is poetry even in the chain guard of a bicycle. I believe poetry can be everywhere.”

In his authorial journey, he gave free rein to lived experience. In that process, he rediscovered intimacy without hiding passion. He established dialogues that brought him close to each human being at the concert. He carried music of commitment and loyalty to the stage. In that act, the word, more than an individual voice, became a necessary collective force. He invited the audience to sing along with songs that had long resided in their hearts.

Yes, memory must be made. For him, “the main strength of Cuban culture is its very existence, its origin, its authenticity, and its eclecticism.” He is valued and shines—sincere, spontaneous. He cultivates taste to make memorable all that awakens the ear, the soul, and the conscience.

To evoke is to remain in the present. He cries out for justice for the Palestinian people; he seeks the compass to keep moving forward, to forge paths; he will reaffirm throughout his Latin American tour the essence of Cuba, the richness of a repertoire rich in symbols.

Let us reflect on this. Silvio builds texts for music. He conceives the song as a whole. And in that whole influence inspiration, solid knowledge, wisdom gained without haste. His poetics hold the colors of words and verses. Perhaps that is why the persistent trovador is such a devoted reader; he knows how to capture light, shadows, and nuances.

Beyond the embrace of strong arms—even in the darkness of the steps, illuminated by Silvio’s art and his audience—the concert invited us to always remember with love.