Arpeggio, an album by Julian Arp and Caspar Frantz

Dance and infinity, a laughing and a crying eye, abyss and a lyrical farewell song...

it‘s all to be heard in my latest album, Arpeggio, recorded with my musical partner, Caspar Frantz.

The heart of this new album is two central pieces: 'Suitencello' and 'For Two hands' by the German composer Klaus Arp - my late uncle. His piano compositions written in the 70s in times of Minimal Music are permanently floating, luminous particles in the water, oscillating between fluid and firm textures. The listener is invited to lose control of their perception of time and be further invited to experience a different perspective. These fascinating musical miniatures are contrasted by the extraordinary music of Franz Schubert, his deep humanity and musical genius. With its subtle emotional language, we lose our sense of time in the next dimension.

The 'Arpeggione Sonata' allowed me to share a strong bond with my uncle, not only in a shared adoration of the beloved Viennese composer but also because it is the only romantic piece where we performed as a duet many years ago. It is this work that Caspar Frantz and I have intensely immersed ourselves in and performed throughout Europe since we our first meeting. 

And we continue our journey, continually discovering the new and experiencing a new sense of awe.

'Suitencello', Klaus Arp‘s work for solo cello refers to what is often described as the 'old testament for cellists': the 'Six Suites' for cello solo by the great Johann Sebastian Bach.
At the start of the album we hear the famous arpeggi from the suite in G-major, the beauty of which made me articulate my wish to play the cello aged six. 'Suitencello' can be read as full of reminiscences, and the alienated threads signature of Bach's music. Like being inside a spiral or under a spell, the listener is immersed in a wonderful musical microcosm.

Arpeggio also features 'Le Grand Tango' by the father of Argentinian Tango, the great Astor Piazzolla. Caspar Frantz and I have spent at least two decades with Piazzolla‘s Tango and have hence had the fantastic opportunity to discover the visceral physicality of the piece and the liberation of expression.

Julian Arp Premieres Marcelo Nisinman's Latest Concerto

A handful of secrets, multicoloured myths and a tango with mother earth.

I am truly thrilled to announce that there is a new wonderful cello concerto! I performed the world premiere of the Concertino for cello and orchestra a few months ago. The ensemble piece was composed by the incredible, multifaceted composer, bandoneon player and friend Marcelo Nisinman alongside the magnificent Hugo Ticciati and his wonderful O/Modernt Orchestra. 

The first movement, "Gaia’s Tango" was written three years ago and premiered at the Konzerthaus Berlin. You can listen to a moment of this dazzling work on my site. I wrote to Marcelo prior to the world premiere, stating the following:

"Your music is never sentimental, nor melancholic for no reason, and yet it can perhaps only be understood within the (often lazily, superficially interpreted) nostalgic context of the tango.

Like Brahms, Schubert or Beethoven there is always a farewell song to an irrevocably lost world. At the same time, there is the happily dancing, gossiping gesture of a new state, with a view of an intact yesterday and a trembling, uncertain tomorrow. The dance is archaic in your music, interwoven with antiquity and its deities, hence a hierarchy in which man still had his place.

The tango from back then in the harbour bars of Buenos Aires (perhaps a necessary expression of an attitude towards life) and your tango have another thing in common; it seems to me that there is always a little laughter somewhere, almost a diabolical gesture, though never cynical."

Marcelo, after finishing the composition remarked:

"The inspiration for this work came simultaneously with working together with Julian and Hugo. Also after many years, I think I sense (rather than know) Julian's artistic personality. I humbly believe the composition is intense and deep (like him) and, although obviously the influences of the music of Buenos Aires cannot be absent, especially in energy and rhythm, suddenly, in the second movement, Bach is evoked, as if Bach were walking through the streets of Buenos Aires... Impossible. But possible in art, at least in mine."