The Love of Solo Instrumental Music – Kora - Intimacy and Authenticity

Why am I so drawn to solo instrumental music? Because it speaks straight to the heart, without filters or compromise. In a world where we have forgotten how to truly listen — to music, to others, and ultimately to all forms of language — it remains a rare space of sincerity and freedom.

Music is a voice. It often speaks where words fail. But there is a subtle difference between the collective discourse of an ensemble and the intimate voice of a musician playing alone. When I hear a solo piece, it feels like a confidence — as if the artist were whispering directly from the heart, with all their nuances, fragilities, and colors.

This is exactly what I felt the first time I heard Toumani Diabaté. His kora seemed to breathe with him. Every note vibrated with sincerity, without compromise. In that moment, I understood that solo music can reach a unique depth, a raw kind of truth.

The Singularity of Solo vs. Collective

Of course, playing in a group has its riches: the shared energy, the dialogue, the collective momentum. But often, a musician’s personal style gets diluted. To blend into an ensemble, you must conform, give up a bit of your freedom to fit with others. The result is often harmonious… but also more standardized, more predictable.

In solo playing, there is nowhere to hide. Everything rests on one person, one breath. And that is precisely where the beauty lies: in that naked sound where the artist can only be themselves.

The Temptation of Loops

At first, I too experimented with looping pedals. They create the illusion of several musicians playing at once, building textures and layers of sound. I used this technique extensively in my show Musique en Noir et Blanc.
But soon I felt it created an invisible cage. The time they require weighs as heavily on the performer as it does on the listener. Loops freeze the music: what is recorded once repeats identically, again and again. They prevent the living nuance, the subtle breath that changes from one night to the next.

In the end, I chose the risk of playing bare, with all its fragility. Because that is where emotion truly bursts forth.

The Miracle of Polyphonic Instruments

What I love most are instruments that can stand on their own: piano, accordion… and of course, the kora. They allow both bass and melody to be heard, as if several musicians lived within the hands of a single player.

On piano or balafon, one must think “left hand / right hand.” On the kora, the balance is between “two thumbs and two index fingers.” This independence is a true challenge: to think two voices at the same time. But once the body adapts, something magical happens.

The musician enters a special state: they become their own orchestra, gradually slipping into a kind of trance. An intense pleasure, where time disappears and the music seems to play itself.

Alone… but Never Isolated

Playing solo does not mean being cut off from the world. On the contrary, it may be the most direct form of sharing: offering one’s inner voice, without artifice, to whoever is listening. When I perform on stage, I often feel this bond grow even stronger: one person plays, another receives — and between them, a vibrating silence that holds everything together.

And yet, the listening of instrumental music has greatly declined. Mainstream media has largely contributed: concerts on television, radio broadcasts… all of that has gradually disappeared, replaced by music formatted and calibrated for rapid consumption. This slow disappearance of listening spaces has impoverished our collective ear — and, in the same process, impoverished musicians themselves.

This, for me, is the love of solo music. A fragile space, but one of rare intensity. A moment where one feels both vulnerable and free, deeply human.

Check out some solo music on the "Videos" page