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One day Bebo didn't make it to the rehearsals and the kid sat on the bench, looked up at the score leaning against the stand and reproduced the written notes. The anecdote is now one of these legends that try to explain away the genius within. The fact of the matter is that at the age of 61 –measured in terms of youth- Chucho Valdez hopes to sit a thousand more times before an 88 to trap the world in the spell of music.

The size of Chucho's success can be gauged in terms of a recognition that goes well beyond the realm of Latin or African-Cuban jazz –the moniker used to call the fusion of bebop and Cuban music in the late 1940s when Dizzy Gillespie, Mario Bauza and Chano Pozo joined their talents in New York City.

In the latest issue of Down Beat magazine, Chucho was among the top 12 composers of the year 2002 and ranked sixth in the overall rating of piano men.

He has won four Grammy Awards: back in 1979 with Irakere; in 1996 with the Crisol Orchestra –a Cuban-American band led by brass player Roy Hargrove; in 2001 with Live in the Village Vanguard (Chucho, piano; Raul Piñeda, drums; Roberto Vizcaino, Cuban drums and percussions; Francisco Rubio, bass, and Mayra Caridad Valdés, vocals), and in 2002 (Latin Grammy) with Unedited Songs, recorded by the EGREM label in Havana, that had already grabbed the Cubadisco Award in the category of best pop instrumental.

The quartet made up of bassist Lazaro Rivero, drummer Ramses Rodriguez, percussionist Yaroldi Abreu and vocalist Mayra Valdez (Chucho's sister), brought down the house in Madrid, Barcelona, London, Johannesburg and Cape City in 2002.

The virtuoso's most recent deed is Cuban Fantasy, under the Blue Note label, that offers a formidable grand tour around music in which Chucho strums his way from Lecuona all the way to Debussy.

In an exclusive Q-&-A session with Caribbean Tourist Excellencies, the maestro talked about the need to put one's heart and soul into songwriting.

“Regardless of how talented you are, the studio is the key to development. You cannot master any instrument without studio sessions. You know, I'm double-lucky. Firstly, because I was the son of a heck of a musician and because I grew up in a home where respect and admiration toward music in general, and especially toward Cuban music, was the name of the game. Secondly, because I had great professors who taught me music and acted as role models. I can remember Oscar Boufartigue, who taught me the basics and Zenaida Romeu —that's right, Zenaidita's mother, the leader of the Camerata- and Rosario Franco, daughter of one of the clearest intellectual minds of the 20th century in Cuba, the best researcher on Maceo that ever was.”

“I think I've said this before,” he goes on, “yet it's worth mentioning what Zenaida told me on my very first class. She asked me to play something. I thought I was the king of speed, so I played a piece as fast as a lightning bolt. She told me almost immediately, ‘That's skill; not music. Music is in the expression. Let's work in this direction.' I study for long hours every day. The day I can't study, I really feel pretty bad.”

What's the key to jazz? Memory or improvisation?

“Everybody has his own improvisation secrets which, by the way, is the soul of jazz. You start out from a certain pattern depending, of course, on the particular piece you're playing because you just can't do things by fits and starts. I'd say you need three things to improvise: inspiration, musical culture and a special flair to capture what the environment is demanding from you. In the case of a Cuban pianist like me, you should know that long before you got there, that instrument has a long history of its own in your country. As you play, lots of other people in and out of your country are writing and composing music. You must then insert all that culture within the framework of your own nature.”

Influences, artistic backlogs?

“I've got too many key titles from Cuban jazz crossing my mind right now. You must also see what's moving behind the scenes because, for instance, Lecuona was not a jazzman, but he pieced together a rhythmic beat and conveyed a sense of Cuban identity that you just can't rule out when making jazz. But more than pianists, I rivet my attention more closely on percussionists, I listen to those who've made great contributions in that field, either known or unknown names. I look up at both Tata and those who thump holy drums. I learn from each and every one of them. I've been lucky to have with me such great percussionists as Jorge “El Niño” Alfonso, Miguel Anga, Roberto Vizcaino and now Yaroldi Abreu."

Can you feel the Caribbean culture?

“It's all about identity. I'm Cuban, but every Cuban who revolves in the realm of music has a distinctive Caribbean touch. We make up a cluster of intertwining cultures, both in French-speaking, English-speaking, Spanish-speaking or Papiamento-speaking countries. Not too long ago I took part in the Gourmet Jazz Festival in St. Marteen. Many European tourists went there to see how those pop cultures of the Caribbean merge into jazz and give this kind of music a very special touch.”

Any special message for the readers of our magazine?

"Pin you faith on the future of Cuban music and the music of the Caribbean islands.”

"No matter how talented you are, the studio is the key to development.”