US composer and pianist Christopher Jessup has made a splash after graduating from Juilliard 2021, with solo piano recordings and new compositions following in quick succession, including a work performed by the London Symphony Orchestra and a new composition for Bree Nichols and the Nuremberg Symphony Orchestra. We talk with Christopher about his background, recent projects, and what he looks for in creating new music.
Can you give us a brief introduction to your music? What kinds of things are you attracted to as a composer? Is there is piece you’d recommend to listeners new to your music?
I’m drawn to music that evokes both intimate sonic landscapes and vastness – sound worlds that can feel at once personal and universal. My work often bridges lyricism and modernity, drawing inspiration from poetry, philosophy, and nature to explore emotional and psychological depth through sound. I’m fascinated by the intersection of clarity and color – where harmony, texture, and line create a kind of inner resonance.
For listeners new to my music, I’d recommend Svítání, my orchestral tone poem recorded by the London Symphony Orchestra. It captures many of the qualities I strive for: expressive warmth, luminosity, and a sense of transformation.
What kind of musical background did you come from? How did you first begin composing?
I started playing piano around age six, learning almost entirely by ear. I loved sitting at the instrument and imitating melodies I heard, often figuring out whole pieces by memory. Early on, I was drawn to jazz – especially Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington: Take the “A” Train was one of the first pieces I taught myself to play. Over time, I began notating my own ideas and gradually shifted toward classical composition, where I found a language that allowed me to merge that same sense of spontaneity with a more structured, expressive depth.
How do you approach creating a new piece – do you have any habits, techniques or methods you return to?
When beginning a new piece, I usually start with an image, word, or emotional atmosphere rather than a specific melody or harmonic idea. I spend time shaping the conceptual and emotional landscape before writing a single note – asking what the piece wants to express and how that might sound. From there, I sketch freely at the piano, allowing fragments and gestures to emerge organically.
I often think in color and motion – mapping the emotional trajectory of the music much like a painter considers light and texture. Once that world feels clear, I refine it structurally, balancing intuition with architecture. It’s a process that moves between instinct and discipline, always returning to the question of emotional truth.
What are your thoughts on compositional priorities? Is there anything you’re specifically looking to achieve in a new piece?
For me, the highest priority in composition is emotional clarity – ensuring that every gesture, harmony, and silence serves a deeper expressive purpose. I’m less concerned with style or technique for their own sake, and more interested in creating a space where listeners can feel something genuine and transformative.
In each new piece, I strive to explore both the fragility and strength of the human experience. Whether through color, resonance, or text, I’m always searching for a kind of inner luminosity – music that feels alive, honest, and necessary.
Can you talk about some significant recent projects?
I recently recorded my orchestral work Svítání with the London Symphony Orchestra at LSO St Luke’s in London – an extraordinary experience working with one of the world’s greatest orchestras. I also completed the recording of my complete choral cycle Astronomia with the Grammy Award-winning choir The Crossing, which will be released on a forthcoming album in 2026. A movement from the cycle was included on their 2024 album Meciendo:
Other recent projects include a new work for the Nuremberg Symphony Orchestra and soprano Bree Nichols, setting Amy Lowell’s poem “The Captured Goddess”, which will be recorded in Germany and premiered in Prague next year. I’ve also written new commissions for the Chicago-based OLEA Ensemble and for flutist Lindsey Goodman and pianist Clare Longendyke, both slated for premiere in 2026.
Are there any other pieces you would regard as especially important points in your output to date? Has your style changed over time?
Several works stand out as milestones in my creative journey. Svítání, my orchestral tone poem recorded by the London Symphony Orchestra, marked a turning point in scale and color – it allowed me to explore orchestral writing with a new level of depth and luminosity. Astronomia, my choral cycle recorded by The Crossing, represents the spiritual and philosophical side of my work, weaving together ideas of wonder, the cosmos, and the spirituality found in nature.
The Captured Goddess, written for the Nuremberg Symphony Orchestra and soprano Bree Nichols, has been another significant step – blending voice and orchestra in a more dramatic, text-driven way. And my Suite for Viola and Piano remains deeply personal to me, reflecting my interest in writing musical miniatures.
Over time, my style has evolved toward greater transparency and emotional clarity – still rooted in lyricism, but with a growing focus on color, resonance, and psychological depth.
What future projects can listeners expect or watch out for?
Looking ahead, I’m developing a new a cappella choral work that explores the brain’s recovery from trauma through the metaphor of water. The piece traces a journey from fragmentation to renewal – where tides, currents, and stillness mirror the process of healing and reconnection.
It’s a deeply personal work, reflecting both my own experiences and those of loved ones, but it also speaks to the collective resilience of the human spirit. Musically, it continues my fascination with color, texture, and resonance – using the voice alone to evoke an inner ocean of emotion and transformation.
Do you have any wider reflections on composition and new music, in the current era?
I think composition today is about reimagining connection – between sound and silence, artist and listener, tradition and innovation. We’re living in a time when music is both more accessible and more fragmented than ever, which makes emotional authenticity even more essential. For me, the goal isn’t to chase novelty, but to write music that feels necessary – that speaks honestly to the human condition while remaining open to beauty, vulnerability, and change.
I’m encouraged by how new music continues to expand in inclusivity and imagination. There’s a growing sense that deeply personal expression and craft can coexist – and that’s where I feel most at home artistically.
More information about Christopher Jessup and upcoming performances.
This article was sponsored by Christopher Jessup.
