We are supposed to be having our little 'chat' on a flight to Beijing, where he is scheduled to sign a contract with the China Broadcasting Chinese Orchestra (CBCO) for an album of ethnic songs from the country's northwest region. Much to my sleep-deprived relief, Clay-derman decides his batteries need a recharge after all that smiling and he promptly drifts off.

It isn't until we leave Beijing airport in his limousine that I manage to chat with a visibly more-rested Clayderman. Radical change does not sit well with him, he tells me in slightly breathless French (Touss-aint, who speaks with a pukka English accent, acts as interpreter). 'There may be evolution, but I've got my own way. I will never change that because that's my personality. What's exciting for me is to play something in my own style with my own piano, which is different from the way I have played Mozart or Chopin. That's what I am looking for.'

The pianist admits he is 'very organised', although Toussaint's good-natured description of his quirks make him sound borderline obsessive-compulsive. 'He likes everything in its exact place,' says Toussaint. 'If you go to his dressing room, you will find everything perfectly organised. If you move anything, he can tell immediately. But I don't mind. He must have two glasses of water in the exact position on his piano, with just the right amount of water - no more, no less. It's what he likes and I want him to feel good.'

Clayderman agrees with a self-conscious smile. 'I spend about 15 minutes before each performance just trying to get the piano stool in the right position. Then I use tape to mark it. I just want to avoid any kind of problems during the show. I have enough to worry about without these things,' he adds.

Possibly for the same reasons, he doesn't like to improvise, even though witnesses have lauded some of his impromptu doodlings in jazz. 'I don't like improvising,' Clayder-man says with some insistence. 'I like to know what I have to do next. Even when I practise, I write down notes on what I am going to play and for how long. I was taught to study and practise a certain way. Improvisation is another type of work all together.'

The pianist may take his art seriously, but acknowledges most music critics do not. Former US first lady Nancy Reagan dubbed Clayderman 'Prince of Romance' after she heard him at a concert more than 15 years ago, and the title has stuck ever since. Less complimentary tags have included 'Prince of Schmaltz', 'Prince of Muzak' or 'Prince of Elevator Music', titles which he sometimes shares with musicians such as Kenny G and Yanni.

'Since Nancy Reagan said that, the media has put me in a box, and it's very difficult to break out of that box. People like to put things in boxes,' says Clayderman with a tinge of regret.

'I'll cope with it. It's not too bad to be in a box in this case. I don't use guns, I hate violence and I am attracted to beautiful things, so I guess that is romantic. I am conscious that being in the box means that people don't want to hear Richard Clayder-man playing something that's not a true reflection of what should be in that box, except perhaps when I am on stage. My audience enjoys it when I don't play something typically romantic on stage,'' he says.

'In the end, what is essential is the audience because they are the ones who go to the concerts or buy the records. Of course I would like to be recognised, and categorised as something more than lift music. Besides, Kenny G and Yanni produce high-quality music,' he says. The description does not go down well with Toussaint either, who notes wryly that 'there is very little music in lifts these days'.

Clayderman wasn't always that regimented. Born Phillipe Pages in Paris in 1954, Clayderman took his great-grandmother's maiden name when he made his recording debut because his real name was pronounced differently in every country. His father, also a pianist, started him on lessons when he was six and by the age of 12 he was reading music at the Paris Conservatory. At 16, he won his first piano prize, but later found it was hard to make a living as a classical pianist.

He took to playing as a session musician for popular singers such as Johnny Hallyday when they went on tour and, at one time, formed a rock band with several of his friends. 'I was very attracted to jazz and rock'n'roll when I was young,' Clayderman admits. 'But then, slowly I chose another way for myself. I still play a little bit of jazz sometimes, but you're not going to hear me playing heavy rock. When I was 17 or 18, it was a good opportunity to meet these rockers and bands. They are people with their own sensitivities; I learnt a lot from their albums.'

His life changed dramatically when he attended an audition by Toussaint and his partner, Paul de Senneville, in 1976. Senneville had just written a new song called Ballade Pour Adeline and both were looking for someone to record it for their label, Delphine. Clayderman beat out 20 other hopefuls for the job.

'Some of the pianists were disrespectful and dismissed the song. Some played it very badly. Richard, however, treated it with respect and played very well,' recalls Toussaint. Even then, he still didn't know what a champion Clayderman would turn out to be.

'It was only when I saw him on television that it hit me that this man had something very special. Call it charisma or what you will, but after seeing him that night, I knew he was going to be big.'

Neither Toussaint nor Clayde-rman could have imagined just how big. Ballade Pour Adeline sold more than 22 million copies worldwide and Clayderman has since recorded 1,000 titles and sold 75 million albums worldwide, proving that - critical acclaim or not - he was no flash in the pan.

The only continent that he hasn't comprehensively 'conquered' is America, although he can still claim sales of between three and four million. But it isn't something he dwells upon. 'To start a career in the US, you have to forget about all the other countries that you have been working so hard on. All in all, I'm so rewarded by the other countries [that] I live with it. I don't think about it much.'

Toussaint recalls telling Clayderman that he would have to live in the US if he wanted to make it there. 'His answer to me then was, 'Look, I have my wife and family in France and I am not comfortable in English. I don't want to die for America',' Toussaint says.

Away from the limelight, Clayderman says he is your average bloke. 'I'm just a regular guy. I like spending time with my son, playing with him and taking him shopping. I travel five to six months of the year for work so I have little time to devote to my family or hobbies. I spend about two to four hours practising the piano every day. Of course the career has brought me a lot, but I want to remain a normal guy.'

The twice-married Clayderman is the father of 27-year-old Maud and 16-year-old Peter, neither of whom show intentions of following in his footstep, much to his relief. Daughter Maud is a good singer, but doesn't do it professionally while Peter is more fascinated by the outdoor and sports than the ivories.

'Maybe he is so sick of my practising that he doesn't want to deal with my music anymore,' jokes Clayderman. 'But if [Peter] can be happy doing something else, I am happy. There's no disappointment at all; he's good at school and is a clean, healthy boy. It's very tiring to do sports on a high level too.

'The life of a musician is not very healthy. You get on a plane, then in a car, go to a hotel or perform on stage. It's so competitive. There are many, many musicians out there and to be the one to stand out is not easy. I am fully aware that I am very lucky. There are many good pianists out there, but they don't have the kind of success I do. That reminds me to keep my feet on the ground at all times.'

Despite longstanding commercial success, however, the regular guy admits that after a quarter of a century it is becoming more difficult to find new things to work on, which is why he has been working with other musicians to try to find a new spark. He may have found that in the project with the CBCO which Toussaint describes as '180-degree turn in his [Clayderman's] musical direction as well as lead the orchestra into uncharted musical waters'.

'This is a very exciting project for me,' Clayderman adds. 'It's something new with new instruments, new sounds and new mixes of ethnic Chinese music with the piano, which is very Western. The possibility of working with other musicians can be difficult but also poses a big challenge.'

The new album, yet unnamed, is due for release next summer but Toussaint is already amassing a collection of ethnic music from provinces such as Xinjiang and Shaanxi, long renowned for their eclectic native styles. The album is part of an effort by the 48-year-old CBCO to promote the northwest region and its sounds to a wider audience.

The 100-piece CBCO, led by conductor Peng Jiapeng, is the longest established ethnic music orchestra in the country. It utilises a number of rare and unusual instruments such as the rangqin, ruanxian and the paigu.

Clayderman is no stranger to China, having played concerts to 20,000-strong crowds there several times before. Recording work is scheduled to start in November, but Clayderman and Toussaint plan to make a trip to the regions to get 'inspiration' in September.

Despite Toussaint's words of a radical change, Clayderman warns he would 'never change 100 per cent'. 'Hopefully this new project will bring out something new without killing my personality. People want to hear Richard Clayderman and I don't want to kill myself [by changing]. It's all a process of evolution: the situation and conditions change, but fundamentally, I want to stay myself.'