Jazz Hot “en V.O.”

Arturo SANDOVAL (Jazz Hot 626)

Exile with a Horn
By Josef Woodard

There are plenty of hot, versatile trumpet players in jazz, but only one Arturo Sandoval, king of the high notes, the grand gesture, and the natural crossover between Cuban, jazz and classical musical culture. The Cuban émigré to Miami has been praised--and also criticized--for his muscular and virtuosic approach to his instrument, as well as his tendency to entertain onstage, an attitude he learned at the feet of his acknowledged guru, Dizzy Gillespie, who he met in 1977. Nobody would confuse Sandoval with those who use the trumpet to mysterious or lyrical ends. But when he cuts loose, with a chiseled technical prowess and easily flowing chops, Sandoval can be one of the more captivating of living trumpeters.
Born in Artemesia, Cuba on November 6, 1949, Sandoval became well-known in musical circles, especially after helping to start the Orquesta Cuban de Musica Moderna in the early ‘70s. That group morphed into the popular Cuban group Irakere, also featuring pianist Chucho Valdes, although Sandoval had quit to form his own group in 1981. It wasn't until 1990 that he made the logical move and defected from Cuba, taking asylum in the American embassy in Rome, while on tour in Europe. Since then, Sandoval has put out numerous albums under his own name, for labels including GRP and now High Note, and also including the occasional recording demonstrating his skills in a classical setting.
When Sandoval put out the ambitious concept album Trumpet Evolution in 2003, it might have seemed presumptuous for one player to take on the respective and diverse styles of trumpeters throughout history. On 19 tracks, Sandoval paid homage to 19 separate jazz trumpet legends, from early icons like King Oliver and Louis Armstrong to Wynton Marsalis, the most contemporary player on the list. Also in the mix are fabled classical trumpeters, such as Maurice Andre. The album is a commendable and chameleonic feat, on Sandoval's part, and it also serves as a compact romp through jazz history, through the prism many of the trumpeters who matter.
Back in 1992, Sandoval had devoted another entire CD to Clifford Brown, suitably entitled I Remember Clifford, after Benny Golson's classic Brownie tribute tune. On that album, Sandoval carves his initials, respectfully, in Brown classics like “Joy Spring,” “Sandu” and Brown's signature arrangement of “I Get a Kick Out of You,” and closes the album with his own tender ode to the late Brown, “I Left This Space for You.”
Even more than his love of Brownie, though, Sandoval will always point to the central influence of Gillespie, a friend and hero to the younger Cuban horn player until Gillespie's death in 1993.
Perhaps it's partly the result of being an avid music fan and a trumpet player of rare gifts in a society where options and venues were limited. From his youth, Sandoval has made a lifelong habit of doing his homework. His musical voice may be a pastiche of multiple influences, but Sandoval has mastered the art of listening and absorbing. In his most personal context, leading his own flexible Cuban-jazz group, Sandoval is a fiery and sensitive persuader, who's not too cool or too afraid to toss winking humor into the mix.

Jazz Hot : How long have you been a bandleader now?
Arturo Sandoval : It started in 1980, in Cuba, that I started a band under my own name. It has been 25 yearsù10 years in Cuba and 15 years here.

In addition to work with your band, you appear as a soloist with symphonies. You keep busy wearing both hats, and you have other hats, too, don't you? You have a lot of different projects.
Yes, but mainly it is with my own band. I really prefer to play with them. I can play my own music. I really don't like much to sit in with guys and play standards. It sounds like a jam band. Nobody knows the form. “How are we going to start and end the tune?” I don't like that much, to be honest. I prefer to go on the stage and have everyone know exactly how we'll do tunes, what the order is, what everybody is going to do on the tuneùbe a little more organized.

Plus, just by playing with the same musicians, you get to know each other so well, right?
Oh yeah. They know my music. Sometimes, we play things that have not even been recorded yet.

Are you always writing new stuff?
Yeah, I try to keep my brain busy, trying to put together a couple of bars of music here and there. That's the only way you can keep your head together.

It's like working a muscle, keeping them in shape.
That's correct.

The last two times I've heard you, once was in a strictly classical formatùas a soloist playing Haydn and Gliere with a symphony--and then the more real you, in a sense, as a jazz musician. Is it important for you to keep your hand in both musical corners?
You know, I love music, period. To be honest, I have a good time playing good music. It doesn't matter who wrote it or when or where. If it is good, I like it. Of course, when I play with my guys, we've got a lot more freedom. They know if I raise the pinky finger of the left hand, that means we're going to turn to the left. We've got more freedom that way, to make a turn here or there, and everyone knows where you're trying to go. They're going to follow you. You know you can make a turn at any minute, and they'll know what to do.

Then they also have to be on their toes, then?
Oh yeah, they better. Otherwise, you cannot have this gig. In this gig, there is no room for fooling around or people on drugs or alcohol. You have to be 100% together. Your brain has to be sharp and together onstage.

Thinking about the fact that you do move between classical and jazz, there aren't many jazz players who have managed to do that. Wynton Marsalis and Keith Jarrett come to mind.
Not a lot. You mentioned two. Can you mention another three?

Branford, sort of, and then of course, you.
(Laughs). You know, classical music is a different bag. It's no more difficult or easier than jazz. It's just different. You really have to command your instrument. You have to be together. You have to listen to that kind of music and be aware of the kind of approach, the articulation, the sound and especially the style of the music you're trying to play. That's really important.

It's like you practice twice, pay attention twice, and care about two different worlds at the same time.
It does seem like jazz and classical players stay on either side of the fence, for some reason.
Those musicians are stereotyped, you know. They only want to hear or play whatever they prefer or like, and then they forget about the rest. But that's not my case.

You had the advantage in that you played classical trumpet starting when you were a little kid.
Yeah, actually, that was the first thing I did, before I ever heard any jazz. It was quite a number of years before I heard jazz for the first time.

So it was a case in which you were studying classically and then fell in love with jazz? Was that the order of things?
I started playing traditional Cuban music. I was doing that for while and then I got a scholarship to get classical training for three years. When I got out of school, I started playing with several bands in Havana and I heard jazz for the first time. Someone played for me a Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker record. I fell in love with that, and that's what I've been doing ever sinceùtrying to figure out how to play bebop.

Now that you mention it, you're working on those three frontsùbebop, classical and Cuban music. Are there more styles I'm not mentioning?
My goal is to try to understand the music as well as I can and as many styles as you learn, the better and more complete musician you're going to be. I don't make any order or any preference. Everything that sounds good, I want to learn.

Trumpet-wise, was it Dizzy Gillespie who first lured you into the sounds of jazz?
Yeah. The very first jazz record I ever heard was by Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker. Man, I was really impressed.

Were you impressed and also a bit confused about what was going on, musically?
Not really confused. I was impressed and motivated. I said “wow, I want to learn that. I want to learn to play that kind of music. I love it.' I loved bebop from day one.

And then you moved onto the other trumpet players, like Clifford Brown and Miles Davis?
That's correct. I started to a lot of different people later on, including Clifford Brown, but up until now, Dizzy is still my hero and my biggest influence. For me, he is the most masterful trumpet player who ever lived. No doubt about it. Harmonically, he was so profound, so deep. He knew so much about chords and changes in music. It's unbelievable.

And if you think back to his place in history, who was there before him who had his musical grasp?
Nah, nobody.

He came from out of the blue, in a sense.
That's correct. That's pretty smart, what you said. A lot of people didn't understand that. When Louis listened to Dizzy in the beginning, he said “what kind of Chinese music is that?' He didn't get it. It was too difficult for him to process. Dizzy was ahead of his time. Don't get me wrong. I owe a lot of respect to Louis Armstrong, who was there first, but he couldn't process Dizzy's information in the beginning.
Sometimes, to break the ice is difficult. When you're starting a new kind of approach, not everybody has what I call the high beam light, the ability to see way ahead of their time.

Then, of course, the trumpet players after Dizzy were processing what he did, and making it a common language in jazz.
Oh yeah, hundreds of people came after him, and everybody learned from that source.

You first met him in the late ‘70s. Do you remember the day?
Yes, in the summer of '77, in Havana, Cuba. That was the most beautiful day of my life when I met that guy, when I saw him in front of me. At the same time, I was so frustrated because I couldn't speak any English at the time. I wasn't able to say a word to him, and that was hard for me. Somehow, I found some guy who translated for me and I said “hey, I'm a big fan and admirer of your work.' I never mentioned that I was a musician myself.
The first day, I drove him all over the city, to show him Havana for the very first time in his life. That same day, late at night, the people organized a kind of a jam between the visitor and the local musicians. I was invited to go there. When he saw me warming up with my trumpet backstage, he looked at me and said “what the hell is my driver doing with a trumpet?' Somebody said “no, he is a trumpet player.' He said “no, he is my driver.'
That was the very beginning of a beautiful friendship. I'm fortunate and blessed to have been around him fro many years. He encouraged me so much and gave me so much inspiration to keep trying and keep practicing. He meant a lot to me.

Apart from the musical connection, when you perform, you don't mind also entertaining the audienceùwhich is something Dizzy always did. He worked the crowd.
As far as I know, I believe that is our mission. Some people don't get it. Our mission is to play music, but also to make the people have a good time. What is wrong with that? Some people want to play jazz and be so dark and sad on the stage. I believe that's not good for the business, because people don't have a good time. You have to be a jazz freak, a jazz crazy to really close your eyes and concentrate on every note.
But when you have a guy there who plays the music and the notes and, on top of that, entertain you and you have a good time, I believe that is more entertaining. I hate it when the people start to yawn in the audience. I like to play where they are very aware and very awake. I like it when they are participating and having a good time.
Some people confuse that with clownship, you know. You don't necessarily have to be a clown. You have to be an artist. You have to be onstage and feel completely without reservation, and have a complex to be this or that. Be you. Be natural. Be yourself and be relaxed. Do what you feel like you want to do. Why take on the pain if I do this or that? Oh come on.

You seem to have a balance of being relaxed, but also intense and fiercely focused in what you do.
Well, being relaxed doesn't mean you don't care what you're doing. Believe me, I do care, a lot. Because the trumpet is a pain in the neck. The instrument is the worst, the most demanding instrument. You really have to care a lot to have a good command of that instrument. You better take care of that. Otherwise, forget it.

You can't go without practicing, for instance?
No. The trumpet is merciless. The trumpet mouthpiece never smiles to your face. You've got to be sure you are in good shape. Otherwise, you're going to be in trouble on stage. I'm talking about if you want to really play the trumpet. If you just play whatever comes out of the horn, that's completely different. But if you want to have control of the instrument, that's a completely different topic. People play whatever they can. But when you want to play what you want, that's a completely different story.
Some people criticize me a lot. Of course, I wipe my ass with those people who are frustrated. Most of them are extremely limited trumpet players. They say “oh, he plays too high, he plays too fast, too this and that.' It's always “too' something. I always say “I play too high because I can, and I play too fast because I practice a lot.' (laughs). You can do it, too, if you practice the same amount of time as I do. I encourage you to do it.

So you still get criticisms on those accounts?
Of course. If they cannot criticize you about this and that, they're going to try to find something. But that's ok, because the people with that kind of mentalityùthey're never going to steal your job. They won't take your job away from you. I'm serious about it. It would be better that you spend that time, instead of criticizing people, listening and learning. Close your mouth, open your ears and learn, and don't criticize. Leave the people alone and do your own thing.

On your 2003 album Trumpet Evolution, you mimic the style of many different jazz trumpet icons from different eras, including King Oliver, Clifford Brown, Chet Baker, and evenùmoving into the present day--Wynton Marsalis. Was the idea to pay homage to the trumpeters who influenced you?
Yes, all those 19 different individuals who left such a beautiful and great legacy. We learned so much through all those people. They deserve that attention, and more. But I had great fun putting the record together, learning all those different styles of those 19 different individuals.

You had to give yourself up to their style, but still be yourself, right?
Yeah, but I wasn't even thinking about being myself. I was trying to get as close as possible to those different people.

Irakere was a fairly historic band in terms of bridging the jazz and Cuban worlds.
Yeah, that was a great band. We started in the ‘70s. I was there until 1980, so I played with them for eight years.

What would say was the musical goal of that group?
You know, at the end, what we wanted was to play bebop, but we weren't allowed to do it. What we did was that, underneath some heavy Afro-Cuban rhythms, we were playing some kind of jazz. But we masqueraded it somehow so the government didn't detect it. We said “no, that's not jazz. It's a new kind of Cuban music.' They said “yeah? All right.” That was our way to play what we wanted.

So they didn't want you to play pure jazz, per se?
No, we weren't allowed to do it. They called that “the music of the Imperialists' (laughs).

Globally, the Cuban musical scene has become stronger in recent years. People like Gonzalo Rubalcaba, Chucho Valdes and musicians circulating around the “Buena Vista Social Club” have been spreading their wings on the international circuit. Is that encouraging for you to see?
I don't know. I moved, body and soul, to America 15 and a half years ago. I'm very happy to an American citizen and live in the United Sates. I love Miami and everything going on around that. I don't concentrate on what's going on in Cuba or what Cuban musicians are doing. That's not my first priority, to be honest.
I concentrate on my gig and my family and my obligation. The rest is completely outside of that.

You must have this dividing line of your life--in Cuba and after Cuba. Is that true?
Yeah. Sometimes, I feel like I was born when I was 40 years old. A completely new life started, and that's the kind of life I enjoyed.

That makes you a young artist again.
That's true. I am 14 years old.

And you play with that youthful energy. You've tackled so many different projects. Are there any more you'd like to take on?
I'm concentrating on what I'm doing today. I'm not a guy who makes plans in the long-term, thinking about what I'm gonna do next year or two years from now. That's not for me. I've got a gig tonight. I have to warm up and practice and get ready, and that's it. Tomorrow is a new day. Let's see what happens tomorrow.

That sounds like a good jazz lifestyle philosophy.
You know, I have to try my best today. Tomorrow is in the hands of God. It doesn't matter how hard you plan, if God has different plans, that's, in the end, what's gonna' happen to you.

Do you see part of your musical mission as extending the Afro-Cuban connection with jazz? Obviously, it's something that has deep historical roots by now.
Well, that's a big word. I don't want to have that title. The only thing I can tell you is that I believe in Afro-Cuban jazz. Dizzy Gillespie, Mario Bauza and Chano Pozo put that together in 1946. I still believe it's one of the fusions or combinations ever in jazz, one of the most beautiful combinations. It's a powerful style of music. I believe in that very much, which is the reason I keep playing in that style, and the reason I keep trying to put together tunes and compositions, thinking about that combination. For me, I believe in its worth.

Your latest album was a live album at the Blue Note…
It's a package, with a CD and a DVD, which is good, because if you want to see what happened on that night, you put the DVD in and watch it.

You seem like such a live-oriented musician. Is that your favorite format in music, as opposed to playing in the studio?
You know, the studio is a necessity, but it's not a lot of fun when we're in there. The fun is when you're playing for an audience. You see how they react, how much they get involved. It's a good feeling.

And especially with jazz, because it's so much about the moment and about interaction, right?
Oh yeah. You know right away when you are playing for a real jazz crowd, in the way they react and where and how, and when they react.

You mean they react at the right times.
Yes, after the good things. Sometimes, you hear people clap or applaud when the piano player does (imitates a run up into the high register) and gets to the end of the keys. People might applaud like he did something extraordinary. If somebody is doing some great changes or doing something all over the instrument, they don't care. When he starts to go high, people say “wow.” That's not a real jazz audience.

Those are also the audiences who might clap after the melody, as if you've just played a solo.
Yeah, you notice from that, as well. But you know, that's ok. We're nothing without an audience. Without them, we're lost.


Arturo SANDOVAL (Jazz Hot 626) Exile with a Horn By Josef Woodard There are plenty of hot, versatile trumpet players in jazz, but only one Arturo Sandoval, king of the high notes, the grand gesture, and the natural crossover between Cuban, jazz and classical musical culture. The Cuban émigré to Miami has been praised--and also criticized--for his muscular and virtuosic approach to his instrument, as well as his tendency to entertain onstage, an attitude he learned at the feet of his acknowledged guru, Dizzy Gillespie, who he met in 1977. Nobody would confuse Sandoval with those who use the trumpet to mysterious or lyrical ends. But when he cuts loose, with a chiseled technical prowess and easily flowing chops, Sandoval can be one of the more captivating of living trumpeters. Born in Artemesia, Cuba on November 6, 1949, Sandoval became well-known in musical circles, especially after helping to start the Orquesta Cuban de Musica Moderna in the early ‘70s. That group morphed into the popular Cuban group Irakere, also featuring pianist Chucho Valdes, although Sandoval had quit to form his own group in 1981. It wasn't until 1990 that he made the logical move and defected from Cuba, taking asylum in the American embassy in Rome, while on tour in Europe. Since then, Sandoval has put out numerous albums under his own name, for labels including GRP and now High Note, and also including the occasional recording demonstrating his skills in a classical setting. When Sandoval put out the ambitious concept album Trumpet Evolution in 2003, it might have seemed presumptuous for one player to take on the respective and diverse styles of trumpeters throughout history. On 19 tracks, Sandoval paid homage to 19 separate jazz trumpet legends, from early icons like King Oliver and Louis Armstrong to Wynton Marsalis, the most contemporary player on the list. Also in the mix are fabled classical trumpeters, such as Maurice Andre. The album is a commendable and chameleonic feat, on Sandoval's part, and it also serves as a compact romp through jazz history, through the prism many of the trumpeters who matter. Back in 1992, Sandoval had devoted another entire CD to Clifford Brown, suitably entitled I Remember Clifford, after Benny Golson's classic Brownie tribute tune. On that album, Sandoval carves his initials, respectfully, in Brown classics like “Joy Spring,” “Sandu” and Brown's signature arrangement of “I Get a Kick Out of You,” and closes the album with his own tender ode to the late Brown, “I Left This Space for You.” Even more than his love of Brownie, though, Sandoval will always point to the central influence of Gillespie, a friend and hero to the younger Cuban horn player until Gillespie's death in 1993. Perhaps it's partly the result of being an avid music fan and a trumpet player of rare gifts in a society where options and venues were limited. From his youth, Sandoval has made a lifelong habit of doing his homework. His musical voice may be a pastiche of multiple influences, but Sandoval has mastered the art of listening and absorbing. In his most personal context, leading his own flexible Cuban-jazz group, Sandoval is a fiery and sensitive persuader, who's not too cool or too afraid to toss winking humor into the mix. Jazz Hot : How long have you been a bandleader now? Arturo Sandoval : It started in 1980, in Cuba, that I started a band under my own name. It has been 25 yearsù10 years in Cuba and 15 years here. In addition to work with your band, you appear as a soloist with symphonies. You keep busy wearing both hats, and you have other hats, too, don't you? You have a lot of different projects. Yes, but mainly it is with my own band. I really prefer to play with them. I can play my own music. I really don't like much to sit in with guys and play standards. It sounds like a jam band. Nobody knows the form. “How are we going to start and end the tune?” I don't like that much, to be honest. I prefer to go on the stage and have everyone know exactly how we'll do tunes, what the order is, what everybody is going to do on the tuneùbe a little more organized. Plus, just by playing with the same musicians, you get to know each other so well, right? Oh yeah. They know my music. Sometimes, we play things that have not even been recorded yet. Are you always writing new stuff? Yeah, I try to keep my brain busy, trying to put together a couple of bars of music here and there. That's the only way you can keep your head together. It's like working a muscle, keeping them in shape. That's correct. The last two times I've heard you, once was in a strictly classical formatùas a soloist playing Haydn and Gliere with a symphony--and then the more real you, in a sense, as a jazz musician. Is it important for you to keep your hand in both musical corners? You know, I love music, period. To be honest, I have a good time playing good music. It doesn't matter who wrote it or when or where. If it is good, I like it. Of course, when I play with my guys, we've got a lot more freedom. They know if I raise the pinky finger of the left hand, that means we're going to turn to the left. We've got more freedom that way, to make a turn here or there, and everyone knows where you're trying to go. They're going to follow you. You know you can make a turn at any minute, and they'll know what to do. Then they also have to be on their toes, then? Oh yeah, they better. Otherwise, you cannot have this gig. In this gig, there is no room for fooling around or people on drugs or alcohol. You have to be 100% together. Your brain has to be sharp and together onstage. Thinking about the fact that you do move between classical and jazz, there aren't many jazz players who have managed to do that. Wynton Marsalis and Keith Jarrett come to mind. Not a lot. You mentioned two. Can you mention another three? Branford, sort of, and then of course, you. (Laughs). You know, classical music is a different bag. It's no more difficult or easier than jazz. It's just different. You really have to command your instrument. You have to be together. You have to listen to that kind of music and be aware of the kind of approach, the articulation, the sound and especially the style of the music you're trying to play. That's really important. It's like you practice twice, pay attention twice, and care about two different worlds at the same time. It does seem like jazz and classical players stay on either side of the fence, for some reason. Those musicians are stereotyped, you know. They only want to hear or play whatever they prefer or like, and then they forget about the rest. But that's not my case. You had the advantage in that you played classical trumpet starting when you were a little kid. Yeah, actually, that was the first thing I did, before I ever heard any jazz. It was quite a number of years before I heard jazz for the first time. So it was a case in which you were studying classically and then fell in love with jazz? Was that the order of things? I started playing traditional Cuban music. I was doing that for while and then I got a scholarship to get classical training for three years. When I got out of school, I started playing with several bands in Havana and I heard jazz for the first time. Someone played for me a Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker record. I fell in love with that, and that's what I've been doing ever sinceùtrying to figure out how to play bebop. Now that you mention it, you're working on those three frontsùbebop, classical and Cuban music. Are there more styles I'm not mentioning? My goal is to try to understand the music as well as I can and as many styles as you learn, the better and more complete musician you're going to be. I don't make any order or any preference. Everything that sounds good, I want to learn. Trumpet-wise, was it Dizzy Gillespie who first lured you into the sounds of jazz? Yeah. The very first jazz record I ever heard was by Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker. Man, I was really impressed. Were you impressed and also a bit confused about what was going on, musically? Not really confused. I was impressed and motivated. I said “wow, I want to learn that. I want to learn to play that kind of music. I love it.' I loved bebop from day one. And then you moved onto the other trumpet players, like Clifford Brown and Miles Davis? That's correct. I started to a lot of different people later on, including Clifford Brown, but up until now, Dizzy is still my hero and my biggest influence. For me, he is the most masterful trumpet player who ever lived. No doubt about it. Harmonically, he was so profound, so deep. He knew so much about chords and changes in music. It's unbelievable. And if you think back to his place in history, who was there before him who had his musical grasp? Nah, nobody. He came from out of the blue, in a sense. That's correct. That's pretty smart, what you said. A lot of people didn't understand that. When Louis listened to Dizzy in the beginning, he said “what kind of Chinese music is that?' He didn't get it. It was too difficult for him to process. Dizzy was ahead of his time. Don't get me wrong. I owe a lot of respect to Louis Armstrong, who was there first, but he couldn't process Dizzy's information in the beginning. Sometimes, to break the ice is difficult. When you're starting a new kind of approach, not everybody has what I call the high beam light, the ability to see way ahead of their time. Then, of course, the trumpet players after Dizzy were processing what he did, and making it a common language in jazz. Oh yeah, hundreds of people came after him, and everybody learned from that source. You first met him in the late ‘70s. Do you remember the day? Yes, in the summer of '77, in Havana, Cuba. That was the most beautiful day of my life when I met that guy, when I saw him in front of me. At the same time, I was so frustrated because I couldn't speak any English at the time. I wasn't able to say a word to him, and that was hard for me. Somehow, I found some guy who translated for me and I said “hey, I'm a big fan and admirer of your work.' I never mentioned that I was a musician myself. The first day, I drove him all over the city, to show him Havana for the very first time in his life. That same day, late at night, the people organized a kind of a jam between the visitor and the local musicians. I was invited to go there. When he saw me warming up with my trumpet backstage, he looked at me and said “what the hell is my driver doing with a trumpet?' Somebody said “no, he is a trumpet player.' He said “no, he is my driver.' That was the very beginning of a beautiful friendship. I'm fortunate and blessed to have been around him fro many years. He encouraged me so much and gave me so much inspiration to keep trying and keep practicing. He meant a lot to me. Apart from the musical connection, when you perform, you don't mind also entertaining the audienceùwhich is something Dizzy always did. He worked the crowd. As far as I know, I believe that is our mission. Some people don't get it. Our mission is to play music, but also to make the people have a good time. What is wrong with that? Some people want to play jazz and be so dark and sad on the stage. I believe that's not good for the business, because people don't have a good time. You have to be a jazz freak, a jazz crazy to really close your eyes and concentrate on every note. But when you have a guy there who plays the music and the notes and, on top of that, entertain you and you have a good time, I believe that is more entertaining. I hate it when the people start to yawn in the audience. I like to play where they are very aware and very awake. I like it when they are participating and having a good time. Some people confuse that with clownship, you know. You don't necessarily have to be a clown. You have to be an artist. You have to be onstage and feel completely without reservation, and have a complex to be this or that. Be you. Be natural. Be yourself and be relaxed. Do what you feel like you want to do. Why take on the pain if I do this or that? Oh come on. You seem to have a balance of being relaxed, but also intense and fiercely focused in what you do. Well, being relaxed doesn't mean you don't care what you're doing. Believe me, I do care, a lot. Because the trumpet is a pain in the neck. The instrument is the worst, the most demanding instrument. You really have to care a lot to have a good command of that instrument. You better take care of that. Otherwise, forget it. You can't go without practicing, for instance? No. The trumpet is merciless. The trumpet mouthpiece never smiles to your face. You've got to be sure you are in good shape. Otherwise, you're going to be in trouble on stage. I'm talking about if you want to really play the trumpet. If you just play whatever comes out of the horn, that's completely different. But if you want to have control of the instrument, that's a completely different topic. People play whatever they can. But when you want to play what you want, that's a completely different story. Some people criticize me a lot. Of course, I wipe my ass with those people who are frustrated. Most of them are extremely limited trumpet players. They say “oh, he plays too high, he plays too fast, too this and that.' It's always “too' something. I always say “I play too high because I can, and I play too fast because I practice a lot.' (laughs). You can do it, too, if you practice the same amount of time as I do. I encourage you to do it. So you still get criticisms on those accounts? Of course. If they cannot criticize you about this and that, they're going to try to find something. But that's ok, because the people with that kind of mentalityùthey're never going to steal your job. They won't take your job away from you. I'm serious about it. It would be better that you spend that time, instead of criticizing people, listening and learning. Close your mouth, open your ears and learn, and don't criticize. Leave the people alone and do your own thing. On your 2003 album Trumpet Evolution, you mimic the style of many different jazz trumpet icons from different eras, including King Oliver, Clifford Brown, Chet Baker, and evenùmoving into the present day--Wynton Marsalis. Was the idea to pay homage to the trumpeters who influenced you? Yes, all those 19 different individuals who left such a beautiful and great legacy. We learned so much through all those people. They deserve that attention, and more. But I had great fun putting the record together, learning all those different styles of those 19 different individuals. You had to give yourself up to their style, but still be yourself, right? Yeah, but I wasn't even thinking about being myself. I was trying to get as close as possible to those different people. Irakere was a fairly historic band in terms of bridging the jazz and Cuban worlds. Yeah, that was a great band. We started in the ‘70s. I was there until 1980, so I played with them for eight years. What would say was the musical goal of that group? You know, at the end, what we wanted was to play bebop, but we weren't allowed to do it. What we did was that, underneath some heavy Afro-Cuban rhythms, we were playing some kind of jazz. But we masqueraded it somehow so the government didn't detect it. We said “no, that's not jazz. It's a new kind of Cuban music.' They said “yeah? All right.” That was our way to play what we wanted. So they didn't want you to play pure jazz, per se? No, we weren't allowed to do it. They called that “the music of the Imperialists' (laughs). Globally, the Cuban musical scene has become stronger in recent years. People like Gonzalo Rubalcaba, Chucho Valdes and musicians circulating around the “Buena Vista Social Club” have been spreading their wings on the international circuit. Is that encouraging for you to see? I don't know. I moved, body and soul, to America 15 and a half years ago. I'm very happy to an American citizen and live in the United Sates. I love Miami and everything going on around that. I don't concentrate on what's going on in Cuba or what Cuban musicians are doing. That's not my first priority, to be honest. I concentrate on my gig and my family and my obligation. The rest is completely outside of that. You must have this dividing line of your life--in Cuba and after Cuba. Is that true? Yeah. Sometimes, I feel like I was born when I was 40 years old. A completely new life started, and that's the kind of life I enjoyed. That makes you a young artist again. That's true. I am 14 years old. And you play with that youthful energy. You've tackled so many different projects. Are there any more you'd like to take on? I'm concentrating on what I'm doing today. I'm not a guy who makes plans in the long-term, thinking about what I'm gonna do next year or two years from now. That's not for me. I've got a gig tonight. I have to warm up and practice and get ready, and that's it. Tomorrow is a new day. Let's see what happens tomorrow. That sounds like a good jazz lifestyle philosophy. You know, I have to try my best today. Tomorrow is in the hands of God. It doesn't matter how hard you plan, if God has different plans, that's, in the end, what's gonna' happen to you. Do you see part of your musical mission as extending the Afro-Cuban connection with jazz? Obviously, it's something that has deep historical roots by now. Well, that's a big word. I don't want to have that title. The only thing I can tell you is that I believe in Afro-Cuban jazz. Dizzy Gillespie, Mario Bauza and Chano Pozo put that together in 1946. I still believe it's one of the fusions or combinations ever in jazz, one of the most beautiful combinations. It's a powerful style of music. I believe in that very much, which is the reason I keep playing in that style, and the reason I keep trying to put together tunes and compositions, thinking about that combination. For me, I believe in its worth. Your latest album was a live album at the Blue Note… It's a package, with a CD and a DVD, which is good, because if you want to see what happened on that night, you put the DVD in and watch it. You seem like such a live-oriented musician. Is that your favorite format in music, as opposed to playing in the studio? You know, the studio is a necessity, but it's not a lot of fun when we're in there. The fun is when you're playing for an audience. You see how they react, how much they get involved. It's a good feeling. And especially with jazz, because it's so much about the moment and about interaction, right? Oh yeah. You know right away when you are playing for a real jazz crowd, in the way they react and where and how, and when they react. You mean they react at the right times. Yes, after the good things. Sometimes, you hear people clap or applaud when the piano player does (imitates a run up into the high register) and gets to the end of the keys. People might applaud like he did something extraordinary. If somebody is doing some great changes or doing something all over the instrument, they don't care. When he starts to go high, people say “wow.” That's not a real jazz audience. Those are also the audiences who might clap after the melody, as if you've just played a solo. Yeah, you notice from that, as well. But you know, that's ok. We're nothing without an audience. Without them, we're lost.