There exists “grave” music – bound to the earth: it drifts up from below, is pleasant enough but paralyses us in that it moves us. Ponder on the virile strength of rock music, on the chthonic sound masses of Xenakis, or the drums of Burundi … And then there is “weightless” music that, in a Kantian sense, is – if anything – sublime and which allows feelings to be engendered, and which – if anything – attempts an elusion in the air and brushes poetic and arcane strings.
If we were to allocate (with the help of such a simple double image) the music of José Manuel López López such a niche – one would expect this of course from a musicologist who loves terms and pigeon holes – then we would expect to see his art as a weightless one. His music may in many ways be taken as an art of the obviously sonic, as an art that seeks a dissolution of material rendered supple and elastic.
Le parfum de la lune for solo violin and ensemble (2003)
El arte de la siesta for solo accordion, flute, clarinet, piano, percussion, violin, violoncello and realtime electronics (2005)
A Tempo for solo violoncello and ensemble (1998)