Name: Duo Reflections
Nationality: French
Members: Sylvain Rey (piano), Leandro López-Nussa (guitar)
Current release: Duo Reflections's new album La Tregua is out via Filibusta.
Recommendations: Samarcande, Amin Maalouf / Owl Song, Ambrose Akinmusire

If you enjoyed this Duo Reflections interview and would like to stay up to date with the band and their music, visit their official homepage. The group are also on Instagram, and Facebook.



Do you think that some of your earliest musical experiences planted a seed for your interest in improvisation?

Sylvain: I was fortunate to have been introduced to music at a very early age, thanks in particular to my mother, whether through prenatal singing or musical awareness. I quickly developed a taste and love for sounds.

After studying piano for a few years, I discovered jazz at the age of 10 at college in Marciac. This is how I began to learn the basics of group improvisation and developed a taste for the freedom of playing within a defined framework.

Today, I still have this love of improvisation and seek to expand it into hybrid playing fields, borrowing from jazz, but also from film music, pop, etc., to gradually refine my artistic identity.

Leandro: My father introduced me to music early on, just like Sylvain’s parents. Although he admired improvising musicians, he mostly revered Cuban popular composers from the beginning of the XX century as well as Cuban traditional music and Jazz.

My mother has always been fascinated by classical music and I heard a lot of it while growing up. She also loved and listened to all kinds of music from Argentina (she is Argentinian-born) and South America, from Tango and its great orchestras to folkloric music interpreted by great instrumentalists such as Atahualpa Yupanqui.



Now that I think of it, it might be the great variety of music I was exposed to that opened a slot for improvised musical expression.

More so, many of the traditions I heard while growing up have an improvised component - most of the musical traditions have it - sometimes well hidden, but always there to remind us what actual freedom tastes like.

Tell me about your instrument and/or tools, please. What made you seek it out, what makes it “your” instrument, and what are some of the most important aspects of playing it?

Sylvain: When I was five years old, I told my parents that I wanted to play the church organ, after being fascinated by a concert featuring this instrument. That's how I started playing the piano ... and never actually played the organ!

I quickly grew to love this instrument, which is easy to learn: it “sounds” right away. Later, it was the “orchestral instrument” aspect that appealed to me: you can play everything, basses, chords, melodies, over a very wide range. You can also play very minimalist music.

The unique thing about pianists is that they never play their own instrument in concert and must constantly adapt to the instrument, its sound, its touch, its responsiveness, how it fits into the acoustics of the room, etc. This adaptability is both a challenge and a very stimulating playground, which pushes us to play with the conditions of the moment, and therefore leaves significant room for renewal and surprise.

Leandro: Just like the piano and Sylvain’s attraction to it, I was drawn to the guitar for “orchestral” reasons (among many others), because polyphony is such a fascinating territory to explore.

Also, modern guitar offers a compound of expressive possibilities thanks to effect pedals that I try to expand every time a bit more.



Both of these aspects - polyphony and expressiveness through sounds - keep me in permanent awe of the masters like Bill Frisell and Julian Lage (even though he doesn't use effect pedals he uses many different expressive techniques that play the same role).

I feel very inspired by the artistry they are able to put in their technical work and I try to emulate them as much as I can.

How would you describe your own relationship with your instrument – is it an extension of your self/body, a partner and companion, a creative catalyst, a challenge to be overcome, something else entirely?

In our specific duo context, both piano and guitar serve similar purposes, often taking turns in the roles of melodist and accompanist. The latter is often tied to the polyphonic possibilities of our instruments, thus opening lots of space for exploration in the harmonic jungle.

We’d say that we’re both a little more in the “creative catalyst” side of the relationship, even though there is also a dose of challenge when it comes to soloing over complicated forms, metrics or harmonies that require lots of study. It is a pleasant challenge because It tends more and more to serve our sole musical purpose.

Derek Bailey defined improvising as the search for material which is endlessly transformable. What kind of materials have turned out to be particularly transformable and stimulating for you?

We are totally in agreement with Derek Bailey and we have found - individually as well as collectively – some materials that share these qualities and that come often from our own explorations.

To cite some examples, I’d start with the use of sorts of pulsed pedal points that we use mostly as supports for improvisation, but also for melodies. The peculiarity of these pedal points is that they are completely flexible: we can slow down or accelerate the pulse, we play mostly without metrics and we can shift between a triplet feel to a double-time feel without notice. We only give ourselves a general feel to begin or to end the sequence and establish a modal note centre.

In “L’ami de Rasputin” (on our latest album La Tregua) you can hear all this in the improvised section that goes from the middle to the end of the piece, with just a theme finding its place at the very end, playing also with the freedom in the pulse and the rhythmic placement of each phrase.



We did similar things in a trio setting with saxophonist Carla Gaudré in Staurne, on our debut album. There, we explored a bit more the dialogue part of collective improvisation, leaving and taking spaces in turns.



There are many more “materials” that I could discuss but I fear it would get too long.

Do you feel as though there are at least elements of composition and improvisation which are entirely unique to each? Based on your own work or maybe performances or recordings by other artists, do you feel that there are results which could only have happened through one of them?

Yes, we definitely think that each language has its own uniqueness in the results that can be achieved.

Even though Keith Jarrett has famously improvised songs that sound like written masterpieces, I think that for most of us the kind of thinking behind improvising or writing makes a fundamental difference. The ability to go over a composition many times is essential to creating balanced forms that can be complex and sophisticated at the same time.

Some compositions require that quality, as, for example, the song “Blankfull” by guitarist Pierre Perchaud (on his latest album Fleur d’Immortelle). I love that song because of its incredible balance between moods and textures in the arrangement.



In improvisation we are more likely to find ourselves crafting unique “moments” that are difficult to repeat, or else creating real-time composition but by choosing elements that are easier to manipulate into a listenable form.

On our new record, the piece “Bobado” is a free improvisation …



… contrasting with the opening one, “Aube”, which is also totally improvised.



In “Bobado” Sylvain used parallel, harsh chords to create a sense of repetition and thematics, while I provided texture, pulse and a sort of playful but mysterious mood. Even though there is form to be analyzed in these pieces I think that the special kind of energy behind them is very much unique to the improvised context.

Of course there is everything in between the “totally improvised” and “fully composed” side of things, and in that mix there is a balance to be found in each concert or recording, at least for us.

When you're improvising, does it actually feel like you're inventing something on the spot – or are you inventively re-arranging patterns from preparations, practise or previous performances? What balance is there between forgetting and remembering in your work?

In our specific case we’re balancing between both ways of getting involved in improvisation.

It depends a lot on the piece because we write many different kinds of settings: there are songs with chord changes and precise metrics that require learning and practicing patterns and invention with previously used material, and pieces based on lots of spontaneity that require staying away from pre-conceived musical ideas.

But I would add also that there is a sweet spot in every performance, between remembering what the song or the piece should sound like - what is its fundamental mood -, and letting ourselves be pleasantly surprised by novelties in every aspect of playing.

Surprise is what ultimately excites us while performing and we should always strive for these moments.

In terms of your personal expression and the experience of performance, how does playing solo compare to group improvisations?

Sylvain: Personally, I have hardly ever had any solo stage experience. I practice at home alone regularly, but often to work on a repertoire or arrangement dedicated to a group. Nevertheless, I do sometimes work on “solo piano,” and it's a very different setting, both much more flexible but also more demanding technically and mentally.

Unlike group improvisation, individual improvisation does not rely on ideas and decisions from outside oneself. There are no interactions per se, but rather introspection, alone with the instrument.

What I like about group improvisation is trying to find the right place in the balance of sounds, being on the lookout for events in order to make the obvious decisions about interaction in the moment, and sometimes achieving a kind of magic of the moment, which only improvisation allows.

Leandro: I can’t say I have experienced solo playing and I certainly agree with Sylvain on his insights about the demanding aspect of it. That being said, I love many solo players, especially guitarists. I find there is a kind of magical fragility in solo guitar playing that I don’t feel as much with piano players.

Also, the limitations of the instrument - especially with polyphony - tend to push guitar composers to find surprising solutions and to expand on expressive techniques rather than fingering ones. Just to mention someone a bit unknown whose work I admire, I’d recommend Ella Zirina, a young  incredible guitar player and composer!  



Anyways, I will look more into solo playing in the future, that’s for sure !

In your best improvisations, do you feel a strong sense of personal presence or do you (or your ego) “disappear”?

The best improvisations for us come from the moments of deepest listening, thus eliminating “ego” from the equation.

Listening means everything, and listening means paying attention to the instrument you’re playing but without getting too much involved in it. If we can feel like a part of a whole, then we can serve the music even when presenting a strong individual statement.

The ego will ultimately get his piece of the cake after the moment has passed, preferably after the performance, even if It surely would be better to always leave it behind in musical situations.

In a live situation, decisions between creatives often work without words. From your experience and current projects, what does this process feel like and how does it work?

Within the duo, although writing is present and sometimes very precise in our music, we always leave plenty of room for improvisation and risk-taking. The idea is to maintain freshness and spontaneity in order to keep the desire to play songs that we have known for some time.

Often, the best moments come when an original and unusual musical decision is made in the moment, creating a combination of sound, timbre, and rhythm that hangs by a thread.

Sylvain also plays in a trio of entirely improvised music called DUNES. This project helps him a lot in the process of listening and interacting.



The choice of decisions is immense at every moment, and is first worked on in rehearsal through exercises with constraints—more or less precise—which ultimately serve to have the maximum number of tools at your disposal during the live performance.

There can be surprising moments during improvisations – from one of the performers not playing a single note to another shaking up a quiet section with an outburst of noise. Have you been part of similar situations and how did they impact the performance from your point of view?

As part of our duo, these unexpected moments occur regularly in our improvisations, but also in our compositions, which leave considerable room for decision-making.

We allow ourselves the right to surprise each other, but we keep in mind that decisions must be made with respect for a form of musical obviousness, rather than playing the surprise for its own sake.

I have always been fascinated by the many facets of improvisation but sometimes found it hard to follow them as a listener. Do you have some recommendations for “how to listen” in this regard?

There are songs or pieces that may sound difficult to follow even for experienced listeners. The same goes for improvisations. Like some good books or films, you either need a second read/view or some kind of introduction to the story to get into the right mood or to know what to look for.

Everyone loves a good story, so sometimes telling the audience the beginning of it with words helps everything build up the right way. I also like what Wynton Marsalis said in a masterclass: “the first listener is the player.” If when we are playing we like what we hear and feel involved in the story, there is a great chance most of the audience will feel the same.

We like that kind of feeling where everyone understands what’s happening, even when it’s complex or odd.

In a way, improvisations remind us of the transitory nature of life. When an improvisation ends, is it really gone, just like a cup of coffee? Or does it live on in some form?

The answer to this question is not obvious. It seems to us that the essence of improvisation is its ephemeral nature, that the goal is to renew oneself from one improvisation to the next.

On the other hand, our memory assimilates past experiences, which have a definite influence on future experiences. And this is true for improvisations. Sounds, sensations, and states remain in our memory, constantly influencing what we are about to play. We will then want to play sometimes on similarities, sometimes on contrasts …

We would therefore say that improvisations have a double lifespan: the time of the improvisation itself, and its “memory” time.