The approach that my parents had towards my musical learning was always a very liberal one, but rigorous in practice.

I started with my father when I was 4 or 5, and promptly took on a teacher when I was 6. I stayed with Carlos for 11 years.

We considered going in the direction of classical music conservatories when I was around 11, but it never happened. I was happily not disciplined enough for it.

I began teaching when I was 17, and did so for 4 years, in France and Luxembourg.

During these years I took full advantage of France’s idea of putting upright pianos in all their train stations, and I would spend hours playing there, meeting people, other musicians, teaching others easy little songs.

I’ve always tried to focus on the simple fact of making something. Challenging the perception of quality being based on harmony or tempo. If something is made, it’s good enough for me. Though I applied this in part with my students, it was important to find a balance between the courage to just play, regardless of what may happen to the music, and the stricter side of practice, theory.

From this concept comes all the improvising. I studied composition, specifically for film music, but I quickly realised that it wasn’t my thing, there were too many parameters, and more often than not the project was not my own, so I had very little say.

I’d always spent time improvising whenever I'd go back home, but my parents were normally the only people who would hear me play in that way. This website, and the music I’m working on producing currently, is a first step towards sharing those moments outside of my home.

Pianos I grew up with

Room with a grand piano, a double bass, a camera on tripod, and painting on the wall.

The Monington and Weston

The one that came first.

Found by my father when being thrown out of a hotel in the UK, promptly driven to Fontainebleau, and again to Granada.

Broken in many ways, with a unique sound and a surprisingly pleasant one. Very organic.

I started to use this piano in Salobreña, my hometown in Spain, when I was 4 or 5 years old, and did so for 10 years.

Feels like driftwood, and smells like it too!

An upright wooden piano outdoors on a grassy area with a piano bench and a small rug in front, trees with bare branches and a small building with a domed roof in the background under a clear blue sky.

Le Beal frères de Lyon

The one that got away.

A lovely upright piano, bought by my grandparents in Lyon, for my father and my aunts to learn on.

This piano can be found painted in different drawings, canvases, done by my family over the years.

Now in its older stage, you can hear some impurities. It remains strong in sound and in body, with a rich, deep tone.

Reminds one of the forest.

A black grand piano with an open lid in a room with beige walls and large windows letting in natural light.

The 2001 Petrof Baby Grand

Young, strong and beautiful.

The newest of them all, with a soulful hint to every key.

Bought it second hand from a piano teacher in Sevilla, who had to build his town house around it if he wanted to make space for it.

A daring escapade with a crane and a four hour drive later and it was home.

A black piano in the foreground overlooking a coastal town with houses, trees, and a beach along the shoreline, mountains in the background, and a clear blue sky.

The eavestaff Mini

The bastard.

A bit run down, and sounds a bit funky. Packs a punch though.

We bought it in 2006 for a restaurant opened on the beach, and promptly moved it into my room when we no longer had use for it there.

Perfect for moving around, but heavier than it looks.