Hesitantly, Cedric Watson places his fiddle case on the Blue Moon Saloon & Guest House's dining room table. He's weary of firing into "Bluerunner," until a tourist from Alaska stumbles into the room. A little shy and definitely concerned about the hour being too early for guests who have seen a late night, he asks the traveler now settling into a chair, "Think anybody else is going to be offended?"

"Not the way you play, I would say," answers his audience, down from the Yukon area for a taste of Louisiana culture. As the Alaskan gets treated to a flawless rendition of the song Watson just learned six months ago, the high-pitched sounds drift through the old house. If there were any boarders looking to sleep past 9:30 a.m., could they really be upset about the buzzing of an alarm clock being replaced by the sound produced by the fast movement of Watson's bow?

Like the Alaskan, Watson is not a native of Louisiana - and he also came here for the culture. Watson grew up in Sealy, Texas, west of Houston. For as long as he can remember, the 21-year-old fiddler and accordionist wrapped his tongue around the bits and pieces of French thrown around by his family. During summers, he visited an uncle living in Kinder, where he was struck by the culture and the French language's presence on the radio.

"I thought that was cool because that's how I knew that the culture was obviously strong here," says Watson, now capable of belting out French lyrics - in either a Cajun or Creole dialect - with the best of them. "You don't get that in Texas. Someone speaking French on the radio, that's different."

Enthralled, he taped broadcasts and brought them back home to touch up his language skills. At 13, his grandmother bought him a tape of Cajun, Creole and zydeco music. It only led to him bugging her to buy him a fiddle, an instrument he liked everything about. At 17, he got his first fiddle. Even before falling for the fiddle, he knew he wanted to move to the Acadiana area. While still living in Texas, he'd travel to visit the area, hanging out at venues and playing gigs, including a Festival Internationalde Louisiane gig with Bois Sec Ardoin. Watson had a taste for the French-speaking heritage of his family unquenchable in Texas, where people pronounce the name Fuselier like it looks.

"It was ok as far as just living, but it wasn't ... (like South Louisiana). There's a lot of Cajun and Creole there, but they just don't have the same ... I guess they change whenever they move, so it's different."

Its refreshing for a young black man to sing in the words of his ancestors in times where young zydeco musicians sing more and more in English. In his mix of Creole and Cajun fiddling, he sings a blend of French he is unsure is Cajun, Creole or a little of both. Recognizing its importance, he also plays zydeco but always keeps it French.

"The language, to me, is more important than anything. The language, because without the language you don't have the music.

"I can sing it better than I can speak it. It's strange because I can sit there and sing it all night long but when I speak it ... you can tell ... you can hear a person's level in French when they speak it. My level is not at the very bottom. Whenever I sing in French, it's so much easier to me. When it comes to speaking it, I'm out of business."

Three months ago, some five years into pining for Acadiana culture, he moved to Duralde. An hour away from Lafayette, Duralde is a flyspeck community, between Mamou and Eunice, populated with many Creoles and the birthplace of other Creole musicians such as Geno Delafose. Before moving, Watson had only been there twice, unaware it was even a town it was so small. With his gigging schedule, sitting in with Dexter Ardoin & The Creole Ramblers, and other bands, its not the size of the town that bothers him as much as its isolation stating, "I'm never home so I can't even say if I like Duralde too much."

This morning Watson left Duralde to appear with D'Jalma Garnier on Cecil Doyle's 88.7 KRVS Medicine Ball Caravan. After playing a few songs, Doyle closed the interview, his voice glowing warmly, "The tradition lives on. I can go to sleep now knowing the tradition will live on."

Though he is young and is a rookie career-wise, Watson fiddles like a veteran. Still, reflecting his lack of tenure, he can be bashful on stage. While playing he sometimes avoids eye contact with the crowd, keeping his hat low over his eyes.

"This is not even long ago, just so people don't see my eyes when I am playing," he says having tugged his hat down clear to his nose. "I'll be kind of shy."

Before an audience, Watson's eyes drift off as he thinks about the song he's playing. In his mind, he says, he pictures what the song makes him think about, not the notes coming up, as like many legends, Watson can't read music. He also has no desire to learn.

"I think its going to make me lose my flavor," he says. "That's how you know its coming from your heart, you're not reading from off a paper."