Interview: Ramirez

Ramirez, the ambient project of French artist Denis Violet, turns landscapes, memory, and fragile natural beauty into deeply tactile electronic music. Working with real instruments, modular synths, handmade textures, and the shifting atmospheres of forests and mountains, he treats sound as a way to bear witness to the world before it disappears. In this interview, he reflects on Tangerine Dream, creative accidents, rural solitude, the poetry of titles, and why the joy of making music remains greater than the need to prove anything.

General info

Artist Name: Ramirez

Real name: Denis Violet

Age: 54

Location: Condat-sur-Vienne, France

How long have you been making music? About 40 years

 

Social Media / Music Links

linktr.ee/denisviolet.ramirez

 

Do you release music under a label or independently?

Independent

 

Creative process and inspiration

What drew you to ambient music in the first place?

Memories, surely—vague impressions etched in the memory. A few notes from “Rubycon” or “Oxygène,” lost in the fog of scattered childhood moments.

Can you describe your creative process when starting a new track?

I don't really have a fixed process for composing. I make music every day, so I go with whatever comes up—often a loop or an arpeggio, sometimes a sound or an atmosphere. It depends on the instrument, but also on where I am and what's right in front of me at the time. For instance, the music I compose at home isn't necessarily the same as what I create in the mountains. Sometimes I try to recreate a sound or effect I've heard somewhere; even though I rarely fully succeed, the attempt often yields something new that captures my interest.

What kinds of experiences or environments tend to inspire your work most?

I am fortunate enough to live in a rural region of forests and mid-altitude mountains. My music often echoes visual impressions—the beauty of a landscape, the fleeting sight of a cloudy sky, or the play of light amidst the trees. Failing that, any mental landscape serves as a call to create.

What atmosphere or emotional space are you trying to create with your music?

Without a moment's hesitation: the beauty of the world, and its fragility. The place we occupy within it. Our times call upon us to bear witness to this, to speak of it while there is still time. Over the years that I have been regularly visiting the same valley in the Pyrenees, I have seen nature becoming increasingly fragile—glaciers dying, certain plant species disappearing.

What moment made you feel like you had truly found your sound?

Ah, that's hard to say. Let's just say that, at some point, the idea I have of a sound and the sound actually coming out of the instrument might converge. But generally, when I start to slow down—lingering on a particular sound object, wanting to develop it—I might devote some time to it. In any case, if I start getting bored, I move on to something else. With the exception of my latest album, Route20, which kept me busy for several months, I like to work fairly quickly. I'm the sort of person who thinks: “Hey, I'm here for a few days—I'll record an album.”

How important is storytelling in your work?

I have my own impressions and intentions—a sort of “personal aesthetic commitment”—but I leave the listener free to conjure up their own story from my music. However, I do like to provide some guidance through my choice of titles; they act as a kind of clue, a gateway for the imagination. Yes, I believe the titles of my tracks are quite important.

What makes a track feel “finished” to you?

Well, sometimes when listening to my music, it might strike you as unfinished—perhaps hastily put together or even poorly recorded—and that's not just an impression. As I said, I don't like the creative process to drag on; I'm always hungry for something new, so every track has to quickly make way for the next one! I also have a democratic view of music; people often say that nowadays anyone can record an album at home in a matter of hours or days. There is sometimes a “DIY” feel to it, but ultimately, that's something I value and stand by.

Which artists (or even non-musical influences) have shaped your artistic vision?

I listen to a great deal of music—ranging from Ravel and Debussy to Pink Floyd, New Order, and Amon Düül—but I consider 1970s Tangerine Dream to be a cut above the rest and a major influence on my own music. I am also an avid reader; a book can often serve as a source of inspiration or even the starting point for a project—such as Lake Placid, based on the novel by Marie Charrel, or Homme Lige by Laurent Bourdelas. Finally, a painting—like those jealously guarded by my friend, the painter and guitarist Toto Deloménie—or a bronze sculpture—like those by Guillaume Couffignal, in whose foundry I had the pleasure of performing while his works were being cast—can all serve as gateways to the creative process.

 

Gear and setup

Are you using hardware instruments, software, or a hybrid setup?

Oh, only real instruments—ones you can touch. I am in love with electronic instruments, sensitive to their strange beauty. I can spend long periods just looking at them, without trying to draw a single sound from them...

What's your favorite piece of gear or plugin, and why?

That's a tough question, given how much I love my instruments... The Eurorack modules from my friend at Likaon Instruments—his brilliant Mandala sequencer and the modules from Bartola Instruments—are real gems. The boutique synths from Dreadbox, like the Nyx, with its lead sound that is so deep, dark, and luminous all at once. The electronic creatures from Phonicbloom/Gechologic, which I always carry with me in my backpack. And so many others...

What piece of gear completely changed your workflow?

So, here at home in front of my rack, there's the Mandala by Likaon Instruments. That's usually where it all begins. And when I'm out and about, there's the precious GechoLoopSynth from Gechologic, which transforms any sound into an infinite landscape.

 

Challenges

What's been the biggest challenge so far in creating ambient music?

For the past few months, I've been playing keyboards in a rock band called Earth Inc. What I do there is fairly standard, but I have the ambition of blending my strange sounds with their superb compositions.

How do you stay motivated or inspired when you're in a creative rut?

I have no ambition to prove anything; only the joy of creating keeps me alive. And the importance of cultivating something greater than oneself. There is also the quest for beauty—to translate the beauty of the world into an immaterial experience.

How do streaming platforms affect the way you release music, or what is your relationship with those platforms?

Streaming platforms offer anyone a way to get their music out there. A piece of music can be created and heard on the other side of the planet within just a few days. That said, I'm not naive; it is very difficult for a track to cut through the algorithms and gain some recognition.

What are your thoughts on AI's impact on music and art? Have you, in any form, used it in your approach to creating and shaping ideas?

I can't really picture myself dictating a script to an app just to have it churn out a piece of music. I'm the one who composes. I prefer relying on chance—on a sequencer that weaves its notes around mine, or on a happy accident, like a patch cable plugged into the wrong input by mistake that ends up changing the entire course of a track. So, what about so-called “generative” music? It always stems from the same starting point: someone organizing elements and shaping them to fit their vision.

How do you see AI evolving in music and art? Are you cautious about it, or do you think it will increasingly function as a tool within creative workflows?

I am very alarmed by the growing role of AI, and not just in the music industry. It's the same old story: a tool meant to improve our lives ends up taking over and making decisions for us.

What are you currently working on?

I'm up in the mountains these days. I set up my modular synth at the top of a mountain pass and let the sky come to me. I've been doing some field recording by high-altitude streams. I'll likely cobble together a few tracks from all that material. I'm also taking the time to organize the songs we recorded back in the spring with Toto Deloménie—the one I mentioned earlier.

What advice would you give to new ambient artists?

Do whatever pops into your head—however you like—just do it. Go ahead, dive in. Don't censor yourself; record it, just do it.

 

The sound of Ramirez