Ramon Lopez – 40 Springs in Paris

The New Springs of Ramon Lopez

Drummer Ramon Lopez releases a solo album, 40 Springs in Paris, celebrating 40 years of jazz in France. His vibrant and delicate drumming shimmers brightly.

Interview by Franck Médioni.

Music entered my life as a sudden revelation. I had no musical tradition surrounding me, nor a sonic legacy to follow. I discovered music in the 1970s through the drums, and from there, jazz came to me naturally. At a college party, I spotted a drum kit on a small stage. The mere sight of the instrument left a profound mark on me. The very next day, I discreetly slipped into that small room and played every drum and cymbal, carefully listening to the echoes beyond the last vibration. I quickly found other young musicians to play rock and cover songs we enjoyed back then, until the day I discovered the first albums of Weather Report, the Blue Note records featuring Wayne Shorter, and the Impulse albums of Coltrane and Miles Davis. The impact was so powerful that it completely transformed my life.

Drums

The drum set is a fascinating and complex instrument. It’s a universe in itself! It connects the pulse of the human heart to the breath of the world. When you sit behind a drum set, you’re not just a musician; you become an architect of rhythm, a sculptor of time. Each element forms an infinite sound vocabulary, a language that one learns to listen to before speaking. Mastering it is an exciting challenge. However, one must never forget the essence: the music. Focusing too much on technique can sometimes make one lose sight of the musical aspect and the emotions it can convey. Behind every strike, there should be intention, emotion. That’s what moves me, and what I humbly try to transmit.

The role of the drummer in an orchestra, especially in a jazz ensemble, goes beyond merely keeping the tempo. It’s much more than that! The drummer breathes with the band, shaping the air around the music. It’s like a pilot in the cockpit, surrounded by a multitude of controls, lights, and levers. Each gesture can alter the climate of the performance, the energy altitude, the piece’s direction. Sometimes, he stabilizes; other times, he makes the whole ensemble dive or take off. The drummer is the one who makes the music soar!

I have often been labeled. Colorist drummer, percussionist, or something else. Honestly, it makes me smile. I understand that people seek to put words to it, but at heart, I’m simply a drummer. That’s the instrument I’ve always played, and through it, I’ve built my relationship with music. If I explore other sounds and cultures, it’s because the drum has always opened me to that: to curiosity, color, and diversity. But it does not change my essence. Contemporary drummers also listen, dialogue, and paint with sounds. They keep the rhythmic heart, of course, but they also expand the expressive palette of the instrument.

Papa Jo Jones, Max Roach, Elvin Jones…

The first echoes of my drumming come from legends: Papa Jo Jones, Max Roach, Tony Williams, Elvin Jones. These masters shaped the lines of my language from the very beginning. Over time, newer generations of drummers broadened my vision: Jack DeJohnette, Paul Motian, as well as European figures like Daniel Humair and Paul Lovens. Beyond jazz, my curiosity has deeply immersed me in other sound worlds. I have practiced and taught Indian music at the C.N.S.M., explored flamenco rhythms, and integrated traditional percussion into my drum set.

Yet, beyond all these voices etched in time, it’s the musicians I play with today who resonate the loudest within me. Each shared stage is a living encounter, an exchange where one learns as much from silence as from sound. Max Roach was one of my first discoveries, and I have an unconditional love for him. In moments of doubt, I turn to him. His music, like a breath, revives me, inspires me again, and reminds me why I continue.

In 1980, at the Madrid Jazz Festival, Max Roach performed with M’Boom followed by the Art Ensemble of Chicago. However, neither his musicians nor his equipment arrived due to the snowstorm. Alone on stage, he improvised a magnificent solo. It was there that I first heard that unique sound live! I then regularly saw him perform solo in Paris in the 80s and early 90s. He planted in me the idea that one day I could play solo drums. My third solo album, 40 Springs in Paris, is a testament to that.

One day at the Havana Festival in 1998, where I played with Chano Dominguez, I had a decisive encounter with him. The lineup included Jack DeJohnette and Max Roach performing solo. I saw him backstage observing DeJohnette intently. Unable to resist, I approached him and expressed how much his work meant to me and to music as a whole. It felt like talking to a grandfather. He was very touched. Then he went out to perform his solo, welcomed by an extraordinary ovation. During his concert, I caught a glimpse of him looking at me backstage out of the corner of his eye. It was a moment of pure emotion.

Alicante – Paris

I left Alicante because, in the 1980s, the jazz scene in Spain was still developing, with only a few musicians scattered around, mainly in Madrid and Barcelona. It’s essential to realize the cultural isolation and the impact of Francoism on music to understand how Spain musically evolved after decades of isolation. I had been playing in Alicante for around a decade and was aware of the opportunities in France. I had come across jazz magazines published in France and knew there were many musicians, especially American musicians based in Paris, along with numerous festivals. It was the perfect time to take the plunge.

As a young musician arriving in Paris in 1985, I viewed the city as a vast stage where every corner echoed with opportunities and encounters. For the young Alicantino who had left his country and family behind, Paris was a mix of mystery and promise. Upon my arrival, I was filled with hope and excitement. However, I soon discovered that the path was more complex and fraught with obstacles than I had expected, particularly at the beginning of my journey. Yet, the paths of music, much like those of art, do not offer a pre-defined route. Success lies not only in achieving a dream but in the depth of the journey.

In fifty years of music, I could recount a thousand encounters, shared stages, and rare moments experienced with remarkable musicians, but what truly touches me are those suspended instances where everything aligns: a shared breath, a glance, a silence filled with listening. Music is not a tally of achievements; it’s an ephemeral dialogue that, sometimes, connects people in ways that words can never describe.

O.N.J. & Barry Guy

Between 1997 and 2000, I had the experience of being part of the Orchestre National de Jazz, the orchestra making the transition to the 21st century! What an adventure! Three years with the Orchestre National de Jazz under my friend Didier Levallet. Three albums, concerts around the world, and a rare intense human experience with remarkable musicians. A true labyrinth of sounds, emotions, and encounters. An adventure that still inhabits me. Thanks to Didier for opening this door for me.

Another significant encounter was with bassist Barry Guy. Since our first recording together in a trio with Agusti Fernandez on Aurora in 2006, we haven’t stopped playing together in various formations, from duos to the large orchestra “The Blue Shroud.” We’ve recorded nearly twenty CDs together; he is the musician with whom I’ve recorded the most in my life. It’s a unique journey, and over the years, our complicity has deepened.

It’s fabulous to also be part of Barry’s larger ensembles! The music is magnificent, and the balance between very demanding writing and improvisation is genuinely rare and precious. Regarding the musicians, we are fourteen members from a dozen different nationalities, forming a big family, filled with kindness. This is undoubtedly one of the most enriching and rewarding experiences of my career. Barry is truly extraordinary— a unique musician and a precious friend.

There was also the trio with Joachim Kühn and Majjid Bekkas. This is a story of music, of course, but above all, it’s a human story. We came from very different worlds—three universes, three stories, three cultures. A jazz legend from Europe, a gnaoua trance artist with deep wisdom, and an Alicantino with a flamenco heritage. Yet, we shared a single breath. A conversation between continents. For twenty years, we shared everything: stages, travels, friendship—five albums, a film through the Sahara, and above all, hundreds of concerts around the world. It was more than just a trio. A magnificent madness, a human and sonic adventure that surpassed us.

40 Springs in Paris

For me, solos are moments of profound intimacy with my drums. It’s a space where I can freely explore resonance and texture, a quest for pure and authentic expression. Compared to my first two solo albums (Eleven Drums Songs in 1998 and Swinging with Doors in 2007, both released on Leo Records), my latest release, 40 Springs in Paris for RogueArt, reflects both a natural evolution of my technique and music over the twenty years separating the two recordings, as well as a quest for simplicity and authenticity to touch the listener more deeply and sincerely. In the end, this quest was not consciously planned. The recording was primarily a moment of improvisation.

I found myself in the studio in Barcelona for the recording of the trio Ephemeral Shapes in 2024, on the Polish label Fundacja Sluchaj, with Ivo Perelman and Aruan Ortiz. The day after this session, I booked the studio for three hours since the drum kit was already set up, and the wonderful sound engineer Ferran Conangla was available. Thus, the album, which is entirely improvised, came to life.

The solo drum performance is not merely a snapshot of a moment; it’s a mirror reflecting a long musical journey marked by decades of passion. In nearly fifty years of my career, I have recorded only three solo albums, which amounts to a chance to speak every fifteen years. Each new work expresses a deep need, a stage in my artistic process, a quest for meaning that inhabits me. Perhaps this will be the last one.

Over time, I seek to bring more light and transparency to my playing. I listen to my earlier recordings with both rigor and kindness. The sound changes, the breath opens, and I feel as if I’m moving in the right direction.

Music and Painting

In my artistic journey, painting is not a novelty but a natural extension of my artistic experiences. Having been immersed in the world of photography from a young age, thanks to my father and grandfather who were photographers, I have always nurtured a deep respect and curiosity for the visual arts. Unlike music, which I share with other musicians and which is nourished by reciprocal listening, painting offers a more introspective solitude. It demands patience, observation, and an almost meditative relationship with time. Yet, in both cases, it is about the same creative impulse—seeking balance, capturing the energy of the moment, and making what one feels resonate visibly or audibly.

In the past, my life was entirely dedicated to music, but for the last twenty years, I have found a balance. When I’m not on stage, I dedicate all my time to the studio. Painting has become my second life!

Disque 40 Springs in Paris de Ramon Lopez was released by label Rogueart.