"I have always been very daring; I have considered myself a free man in every aspect," says Amaury Pérez Vidal, winner of the 2025 National Music Award.
I believe that the spirituality of the Cuban people must be preserved. The hard, difficult years we have had to live through may hide it, but they do not make it disappear. It is still there. All it takes is a touch, and people ignite automatically. It is like the fireflies, right? That marvelous little creature.
"In every sphere, we must preserve Cuban identity, the Martian spirit in each of us. We are direct heirs of Martí. We all carry Martí’s blood in this country.
"I believe that spirituality and faith are great allies, and I have never lost them, not even in the worst moments of my life. They have saved me as a human being."
Amaury Pérez Vidal (born Havana, 1953) assures this almost at the end of our conversation. Kindly, he opened the doors of the home he has shared for over 40 years with his wife, Petí, to Granma, to talk about the recently awarded National Music Prize.
That was only the pretext, however, for attempting to unravel the story and motivations of a versatile artist, unafraid of controversy, who has defended the freedom to be and create; the troubadour, the novelist, the poet, the interviewer… and also the son of his parents, the son of Consuelito, a condition he takes immense pride in, even if someone once tried to minimize it.
"They did not help me. My mother didn’t, and at first, I didn’t understand it—I thought that with her strength and prestige she could have given me a hand. And later, I understood completely. I’ve had time in life to say to them, 'Thank you, Mom, for not throwing me a line. Thank you, Dad.' God knows what path I would have taken if they had been pushing me! I think I wouldn’t be even half of what I am, if I were anything at all.
"My mother died in 2004. She had been retired for years, yet people still hold great affection for her. She was a very humble woman, born in El Cerro, to a semi-illiterate Spanish mother and a carpenter father. She started working very early.
"The atmosphere they created at home, both her and my father, who was a television producer and show director, was what I breathed from the beginning. They were not showbiz types; they belonged to the Cuban entertainment world, of course, but the house was not always full of actors, actresses, and musicians; only on special days. To Fontanar, where we lived, only Benny Moré went often, who was a good friend of my father.
"I think I was formed by books and music. There was always music in my home. My father played percussion very well and listened to a lot of jazz; when my mother got the chance, she played classical music because she had studied piano and played very well.
"I was nearsighted, dyslexic, astonishingly shy. The expansive man I am today is very different from that quiet Amaury, who was always reading. And what I wanted was to be a doctor, not an artist, because I told myself, 'I will never compete in life with these "monsters",' who were my parents.
"But when I found out that a Medical career never ends, I decided to devote myself to something else. In 1969 I started writing songs, which I didn’t sing to anyone."
—"And how did you come to poetry?"
—"As a teenager, I befriended a girl from high school, Isabel Fernández, and many poets went to her house, who took me to Uneac, where I met Nicolás Guillén, Reynaldo González, Antón Arrufat, Miguel Barnet. That added to my reading—I read Góngora, Valle Inclán, all the poets of the Spanish Golden Age..."
A LOVE THAT LASTS TO THIS DAY
–Let’s talk about the Nueva Trova. Was there ever a moment when Amaury wanted to be just a troubadour?
–At first, he wasn’t very clear about that. Maybe it was the figure of Silvio, so magnetic. I saw him on television one day; I already played the guitar somewhat; and I said to myself, "Oh, there’s a Beatle in Cuba!".
However, his relationship with those who would become the founders of the Movement was established at the Icaic, where Amaury began working as a props assistant at 17 years old. Around that time, he recorded his first two songs: "When I Look into Your Eyes," with lyrics by Fayad Jamís, and "The Guitar," with lyrics by Otto Fernández: “I didn’t write my own lyrics, I didn’t dare”.
From his new companions, he began to receive influences; it was no longer just from his family. There were Silvio, Pablo, Noel, Sara. She is still his best friend, despite the years that have passed since her death: “The love we had, that we still have, is very great.
“I couldn’t go to the founding meeting because I had to work; but I did go on the first tour of the Grupo de Experimentación Sonora, carrying speakers and setting up microphones, which was what I did at that time. I would often sing my songs to them; sometimes they approved, and sometimes they said: ‘that’s not so good.’ They welcomed me warmly.”
The direct connection with the Movement lasted about eight years; afterwards, Amaury’s artistic path led him toward different explorations: “Coming from a family linked to another world, I was drawn to the lights, the stage, the costumes. Every time I had a concert, I raised the bar; I even dressed in pink and satin. I wore an earring. I had very long hair.”
That way of conceiving the show and stage presence was not only surprising to his companions but also brought to the table a new way of understanding the revolutionary artist. The press — Amaury recalls — was especially harsh in their judgments.
“I started working musically beyond the guitar, making records bordering on neo-Baroque, neoclassical music; later jazz, rock jazz. That was totally outside the patterns where we were supposedly headed.
“But I have continued being a troubadour and have maintained fraternal relationships with them, and in some cases deep ones. There was an aesthetic break, but not a friendly one. We still love each other to this day.”
OF CURIOSITY AND BEAUTY
Within Amaury’s body of work, musical compositions have been essential: “I really enjoy composing music. If one has a certain skill, whether natural or acquired, one discovers the music that is in the poem.”
He has ventured with equal passion into writing, which began as a game: from stories to brighten gatherings with his friends, a book was born, then two published novels, and one in progress. In addition to his sonnet notebook, there are also his published chronicles, first on Cubadebate, and later on his Facebook page.
The program *Con 2 que se quieran* [With Two Who Want Each Other] is another example of his need for change: “It’s my freedom; if I always did the same thing, I might have more success, but I would get bored.
“In the program, there was no academic approach, only curiosity. I used a lot of follow-up questions because I didn’t have a questionnaire. That means I relied on the level of information about the person and prepared the first question as I went along. No one ever knew, in 250 interviews, what I was going to ask them, which is why I appreciated the guests’ presence so much.”
Amaury claims to be very curious: “I want to know everything, even at this age”; he also emphasizes his commitment to daily work: “I have enjoyed everything a lot, but I have done it with great rigor, always working like a goldsmith.”
In his routine, marked by watching the sunrise every day from the small terrace he calls “his office,” listening to lots of music from everywhere; reading “like a madman,” writing, praying, and receiving some friends, the news of the National Music Award arrived like a good gale.
“I wasn’t expecting it. I don’t want to seem overly humble either, but I don’t know if I really deserved it yet. I know the jury members like me, but they are people who wouldn’t allow themselves to give me a gift of a prize.
“And that award, given by your colleagues, is huge. They revived an Amaury who was frankly already retired, enjoying almost the kind of anonymity I never had since the day I was born.”
The author of iconic songs like *Acuérdate de abril* [Remember April], *Encuentros* [Encounters], *No lo van a impedir* [They Won’t Stop It], and *Amor difícil* [Difficult Love] is a man for whom beauty is one of those essences that must be preserved: “Solidarity among Cubans is something that must be defended; but—as Silvio said at the Longina [festival], and as I also say, and many others—that should be done from beauty.”
Just before closing the conversation, Amaury points out that he keeps working. “As long as I can. I’m going to do a tour throughout Cuba this year, starting with provincial capitals and then some municipalities.
“It’s wonderful to feel respected by your colleagues in your own country, and it’s marvelous to be able to sing here and have people come, applaud you, and remember you, after so many years without doing so. The Longina Festival, Villa Clara, and the National Music Award gave me back that tremendous desire to return to national stages.”
