Speaking of Jazz…and Other Ravings
Cuban through and through, Chucho Valdés also knew how to pay homage to one of our most sacred institutions: unpunctuality. It had been a while since the time previewed to begin his press conference,1 and the only “chucho” (swearing) being lavished in the Salón de los Embajadores of the Habana Libre Hotel was that of us journalists, impatient and with no coffee…. At last he appeared, gigantic and smiling, donning his perennial Bolshevik cap, a psychedelic shirt, and that placid face that only those who are above good and evil can have. He gave us, affable, a “thank you for being here,” which should have been “thank you for waiting,” or “thank you for not leaving.” As if he needed to apologize…. If it had been someone else perhaps no, but we forgave Chucho. And we did it not just because we recognized the great man who propped Cuba up in the map of the world of contemporary jazz, but because we sensed that each second we had waited would be worthwhile, that we were about to get a master lecture about music, but also about life. By his side, two aces of the genre, Christian McBride and Terence Blanchard,...