Mexican double bassist Ben García and saxophonist Lucas Martínez present Raíces, a contemporary jazz and improvisation project shaped by friendship, movement, and the search for a deeper sense of home. Born from their meeting in Barcelona, the album brings together open compositions, singable melodies, and the responsive voices of Antonio Sánchez, Marco Mezquida, and guest guitarist Dariel Peniazek.
In this interview, García and Martínez reflect on the shared vision that allowed the project to grow, the meaning of roots after years spent living away from home, and the balance between preparation and freedom in the studio. They discuss melody as a way of creating direct connection, the importance of knowing when music has said enough, and how places, travel, and lived experience became part of the album’s emotional journey. At its heart, Raíces emerges as music made through trust: a space for listening, reflection, and quiet connection.
You met in Barcelona and the project grew from there. What made that first musical connection feel strong enough to build an album around?
I think that at that moment we were both highly motivated to create and compose new music. Our first session was a great introduction to each other musically—we immediately felt a strong connection and enjoyed playing together. At the same time, the project developed gradually. We spent time sharing ideas, exploring different directions, and discovering what we wanted the music to become.
Along the way, we realized that we shared a similar work ethic, artistic vision, and approach to collaboration. That mutual understanding became just as important as the musical connection itself.
In a way, making an album is a bit like having a child. You don’t decide to do it with the first person you enjoy talking to, or even the first person with whom you have a great musical connection. It requires a shared vision, common values, trust, commitment, and a willingness to build something together over time.
Raíces is about roots, but also about movement and being away from home. Has working on this music changed what that word means to you?
I think the meaning of the title has remained very much the same throughout the process. At that time, both of us were returning home after spending several years living abroad, so the idea of roots felt especially relevant.
For me, roots symbolize grounding and reconnecting with where you come from. But they also represent the foundation that allows something to grow. A tree needs strong roots not only to stay anchored, but also to flourish and reach upwards.
In that sense, Raíces is not only about returning home or looking back. It is also about expansion, growth, and transformation. Our roots are what give us the strength to keep moving forward, exploring, and evolving.
Both of you bring different backgrounds into the project. How did you find a common musical language without losing your individual identities?
I think that jazz was the common language that brought us together. We both come from a musical background rooted in jazz, improvisation, and creative music, so there was already a shared vocabulary and way of communicating through music.
At the same time, each of us is inspired by a wide range of musical styles beyond jazz. What connects those influences is not necessarily a specific genre, but a shared interest in creativity, exploration, and personal expression.
Rather than trying to blend our identities into a single sound, we embraced our differences. The jazz tradition gave us a common foundation, while our individual influences allowed the music to develop its own unique character.
The music leaves a lot of space for listening and response. When you write for this group, what do you decide in advance, and what do you prefer to leave open?
We knew that the recording process would happen quite quickly and that time in the studio would fly by, so we wanted to arrive well prepared. All the charts were ready, and we had a clear sense of the musical direction and character of each piece.
Beyond defining the melodies, basic structures, and harmonies, we left a lot of space for Marco and Antonio to bring their own voices to the music. The solos had no predetermined length, and we didn’t decide in advance who would improvise over which sections. We wanted the music to remain flexible and open to whatever felt right in the moment.
One of our priorities was to preserve a sense of freedom and spontaneity, especially because we were lucky to be working with two great musicians and artists. We listened to all of their suggestions and ideas, and in many cases their contributions helped the music grow into something even more beautiful than we had originally imagined.
There is a clear focus on melody throughout the album. Was that something you were both consciously looking for from the beginning?
I think we both have a special connection to melody, and it was definitely something we were consciously looking for from the beginning. We often compose by singing melodies rather than approaching a piece from a purely theoretical or harmonic perspective.
For me personally, I realized that when I can sing a melody, I tend to write more honest musical lines, ones that feel closer to my artistic voice and resonate more deeply with me. I’ve always been interested in rhythmically complex music, but as a composer I’ve tried to create something that is engaging for musicians while still being accessible to a wider audience.
There’s a phrase I often come back to: I want to write music that musicians find interesting, but that my grandmother could leave the concert singing. To me, that’s a beautiful challenge.
I think melody is one of the strongest ways to create a connection with an audience. Since all of the music on this album is instrumental and doesn’t rely on lyrics, having expressive melodies became even more important to us.
You’ve spoken about stepping away from virtuosity as an end in itself. How do you know when the music is saying enough?
It’s difficult to know when something is enough in art. As composers and performers, we often feel that there is always more we could do. A melody could be revised again, a solo could be done better, or a composition could be refined endlessly. Same thing happens with the mixing process, master or the art work.
Over time, we’ve learned that part of the creative process is knowing when to let go. We both balance multiple projects, and we’ve come to understand that finishing something is just as important as perfecting it. At a certain point, you have to trust the work, accept its imperfections, and allow it to exist on its own.
I also think that the idea of “enough” is deeply subjective. What may feel incomplete to one person can feel complete to another. The same is true with virtuosity: sometimes adding more can strengthen the music, and sometimes it can distract from what is essential.
For us, the question is not whether we could play more, but whether the music still has something meaningful to say. When adding more notes, ideas, or complexity no longer serves the musical message, that’s usually a sign that the music is already saying enough.
Antonio Sánchez and Marco Mezquida bring very strong musical personalities to the record. What did they add that changed your original idea of the pieces?
When working with musicians like Antonio and Marco, they bring a huge amount of experience and a strong artistic voice. Through their solos and their way of interacting with the music, they helped connect all the sections of the compositions and brought the pieces together in a very natural and beautiful way.
They also helped us make decisions about the music and the structures. Having them involved gave us a sense of confidence and certainty that everything would work well and that the music would reach its full potential.
In the end, they added their own personality to the project while always serving the music, and that made the final result much richer than what we had originally imagined.
The album moves through different emotional spaces, from nostalgia to celebration. Did the final shape of the record become clear before recording, or only afterwards?
It became clear afterwards, while we were deciding on the track order and shaping the final sequence of the album. The record could have taken a different direction depending on how we organized the music, but somehow we felt that it made sense to end it that way.
Having Dariel as a featured guest towards the end of the album brought a special energy, and finishing with that sense of celebration felt natural. It wasn’t something we had planned from the beginning, but when we listened to the record as a whole, it seemed like the right conclusion to the journey.
Several pieces are connected to specific places or moments, such as Mexico, Los Angeles, or the idea of travel itself. Do places usually become part of your composing process?
I think we both tend to compose in response to strong emotions, almost as a form of therapy or as a way of keeping a diary of our lives.
For me, many of my compositions are connected to feelings and experiences, and a lot of those experiences happen while travelling. That’s why, after long periods on the road, I often feel the need to set aside time to compose, write, and reflect on everything that has happened along the way.
I’m aware that, because life can be intense, we sometimes move on too quickly from important experiences or fail to give them the value they deserve. Composing helps me process those moments and understand them more deeply.
So yes, places often become part of my composing process, but usually because of the emotions, memories, and experiences that I associate with them.
Raíces seems to ask the listener to slow down and listen closely. What would you hope someone feels after spending time with the whole album?
We hope that people feel rested, introspective, and relaxed after spending time with the album. More than anything, we hope that they experience their own personal journey through the music.
We don’t want to condition the listener too much or tell them what they should feel. We simply created a path that they can choose to walk with us, allowing them to find their own meanings and emotional connections within the music.
We would like the album to feel like a safe space; a place where the music embraces the listener, encourages them to slow down, breathe more deeply, and reconnect with themselves for a moment.
