CAMAGÜEY.- Cuba wakes up again with the news of an irreparable loss: Edesio Alejandro, the musician who knew how to make the soundtrack of our films an extension of our own memory. His music was not a mere accompaniment, but a heartbeat, breath and depth in the images that narrates our history, our passions and pains.

 In 2016, I had the opportunity to hear him in Camagüey, when he was invited to the National Film Criticism Workshop. It was an unforgettable edition, not only because of Edesio's presence, but also because of the privilege of sharing with figures such as director of photography Raúl Pérez Ureta and producer Santiago Llapur Milian. That meeting was a dissection of cinema from its creative heart, with the meticulous eye of those who have shaped its visual and sound language.

Edesio, with his characteristic irreverence and clarity, then demanded a greater space for music. “In Cuban cinema there is too much talk,” he said with the firmness of someone who understands that silence and sound harmony can narrate as much or more than dialogue.

 During his conference in the Sala Alhambra of the Casablanca Multicine, he shared his creative process, that intuitive and organic way with which he composed, convinced that the music was already in the film, waiting to be discovered.

Photo: Leandro Pérez Pérez/Adelante/File

From his first steps in cinema with Clandestinos, Edesio found in the moving image a space to experiment and dialogue with the emotions that pass through the screen. “It is not about contradicting a director, but the moment he does what he wants, I am no longer me,” he confessed honestly, describing the challenge of harmonizing the director's vision with his own.

 His music accompanied us in iconic films such as Suite Habana and Clandestinos, and it will continue to do so, because great artists do not disappear: they transform into what they have created.

 When I remember that workshop, I cannot help but evoke Desiderio Navarro, who was also there and left us the following year. Together with him, Raúl Pérez Ureta and now Edesio, a circle of wise men who dedicated their lives to making Cuban cinema an integral art is closed.

 We are left without Edesio, but his sonic legacy will continue to tell us, in its notes and silences, everything that words cannot say.

Translated by Linet ACuña Quilez