BENALMADENA, SPAIN — A few days before his 90th birthday, Bebo Valdes contemplates his memories and melodies on a hotel terrace with a view of waves dancing in an African breeze.
Valdes puts aside the coffee he is nursing and examines two CDs. One is "Lagrimas Negras" ("Black Tears"), the surprise crossover sensation that made him an international star four years ago. But the disc he wants to talk about is the exquisite "We Could Make Such Beautiful Music Together," which teamed him with a Uruguayan violinist and came out in 2006. Valdes chuckles as he scans the list of songs.
"When I was young, I was crazy about this number," he says about the title track, speaking the fast, sugary Spanish of the Caribbean. "And 'La Rosita,' what a pretty thing. It's Mexican, the Mexicans have very good melodic music, you know? . . . 'I Only Have Eyes for You.' I played that too. Havana was American, chico! . . . 'Adios Nonino,' this is a very good Argentine classic. . . . 'Waltz for Debby': Bill Evans, he's my favorite pianist. The way of playing, and the studies he had. A unique style and a unique sound."
In black-and-white photos from the 1950s, Dionisio Ramon Emilio "Bebo" Valdes has the sleek look of a Cuban Duke Ellington: pencil mustache, wide-shouldered suits. They called him Caballon, or big horse, because he was tall and dashing and the premier pianist, bandleader, arranger and composer in Havana.
Today, he's stooped and thinner. He drags his feet a bit. But he still has a towering presence, warm gray eyes and a gentlemanly, gregarious smile.
A conversation with Valdes is a voyage through the marvelous spectrum of music that has forged him: from Madrid to Harlem; from Debussy to Rachmaninoff; from Ernesto Lecuona, another Cuban pianist, to Chano Pozo, the wild percussionist who electrified Havana's legendary Tropicana nightclub when Valdes reigned there as musical director.
"He is the last man standing of the golden age of Cuban music," says Nat Chediak, his Miami-based producer and friend. "There is no one else left. He is the last master from the golden age."
Valdes has experienced enough triumph, tribulation and redemption for three or four lives. The Cuban Revolution set him adrift on the tides of exile. He washed up on the icy shores of Stockholm. He married a Swedish woman and settled into sedate anonymity, working in hotel lounges as a background pianist. Even listeners who noticed the brilliance of his elegant, understated style didn't realize he was the living ghost of a legend.
