The Catalyst interview: Arturo Sandoval

When President Barack Obama presented Arturo Sandoval with the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2013, he made note of the Cuban-born jazz trumpeter’s struggles against the Castro regime in the 1960s. “He loved jazz so much, he went to jail for it,” Obama said.

True story. As a young man, Sandoval was imprisoned for three months for defying a government order that forbade listening to Voice of America radio.

Sandoval, who defected in 1988 with help from his friend and mentor Dizzy Gillespie and soon became an American citizen, is today considered one of the finest, and most distinctive, trumpeters in jazz. He is a 10-time Grammy winner.

Also an accomplished piano player, timbales player, flugelhorn player, composer and arranger, Sandoval – whose trumpet range famously reaches way up there in the high notes – writes and performs everything from Afro-Cuban jazz to bebop to standards and ballads, and even classical music.

This musician’s musician will perform, with his band, Feb. 6 at Ferguson Hall in Tampa’s Straz Center for the Performing Arts. Find info and tickets at this link.

In December, Sandoval was a Kennedy Center Honors recipient, alongside Francis Ford Coppola, the Grateful Dead and others.

St. Pete Catalyst: Your 1970s band Irakere added elements of funk and African rhythms to jazz. Was that because the government forbade straight-ahead jazz?

Arturo Sandoval: That was funny, because in the beginning of the band, we weren’t allowed to use cymbals and drums. Because they said that was the music of the Yankee Imperialists. We had to masquerade, but in the end what we wanted to play was bebop.

Can you describe for me, what life as a musician was like under the Castro regime? They watched you very carefully, I imagine.

The worst part of it was, you have to be extremely careful what you say, what you write, even what you think. Because under such strong repression, a dictatorship, the government cannot even think that you have different ideas than they have. And to live under that kind of pressure is hard.

I always say the most beautiful thing in life is freedom. No freedom, no life, you know? If you have no freedom, you have nothing.

But they did let your bands tour out of the country …

They didn’t let us – they sent us. Because they signed the contracts. We never participated in any contracts at all. They keep all the money and they gave us a miserable per diem, like a little money for food and that’s it.

Was there someone with you all the time, watching you so you didn’t try to defect?

Oh yes, yes, most of the time. That was the Secret Police or whatever.

Was the decision to defect difficult, or sudden – or were you always looking for a chance to do it?

I was looking for years how to leave. You know, I was married when I was 24 years old – actually, this coming June we celebrate our 50^th wedding anniversary!

I never thought about to leave without my family. I preferred to stay there no matter what. I was waiting until the government made a mistake. They gave special permission to my wife and I, and our son, to go to Europe and spend a couple of weeks, when I was on tour with Dizzy Gillespie.

I know Dizzy pulled some strings to expedite things for you. He was instrumental in your journey, wasn’t he?

Absolutely. Even before, he inspired me a lot. He helped me and really encouraged me to keep working and practicing. We met in May of ’77, when he came to Havana for the first time ever. He means the world to me. He was so good to me. Really good, in every sense.

When you and your wide and son arrived to live in the States, where did you first settle?

I was living in Miami for 20 years, and we’ve lived in Los Angeles for the last 15 years.

With regard to the Presidential Medal of Freedom, and the Kennedy Center Honor, do they make you feel like ‘I’m finally done with Cuba, and America is my home’?

That’s been in my heart and in my mind since the Day One. Not because of the world recognition – I love the U.S., man, period. The U.S. changed my life and my family’s life all the way around, and I am extremely grateful. Even without any kind of recognition or whatever. That’s the plus, the extra.

Have you been back to Cuba?

Oh no sir! No, no way. I don’t even think about it. Even if I get crazy, and I want to go back and visit or whatever, I doubt if they’re gonna grant a … I’d have to write to Washington and buy a Cuban passport. Because I don’t have a passport – I have an American passport.

You don’t miss it at all, then?

No sir. Meanwhile, the system is still there. I have no intention at all of coming back.

Tell me about the show that you and your band are bringing here? How big is the group?

We are seven, altogether. We’re gonna play music [laughing]. I’m not trying to be funny – as the Duke used to say, there’s two kinds of music – good music and the other thing. And I’m not interested in the other thing. I love Dizzy Gillespie in the same way I love Sergei Rachmaninoff.

I love music, period. And when I jump onstage, the only thing I want is to share with the audience all my feelings about music in general. Without any specific style, because everything that sounds good, good harmony, good melody or whatever, I want to learn. I’ve spent all my life trying to learn as much as I can.