#9 - A Conversation with Arnold Kasar
Introduction
This interview is part of The Sonic Atelier – Conversations with Contemporary Composers and Producers, a long-term project dedicated to exploring the evolving identity of the composer in the twenty-first century. The series investigates how today’s creators inhabit hybrid roles at the intersection of composition, performance, production, and technological craft, shaping new ways of thinking about sound, gesture, and musical space.
In this conversation we meet Arnold Kasar, German composer, pianist, producer, and mastering engineer, whose work unfolds between improvisation, acoustic intimacy, and electronic depth. Equally at home inside the piano and inside the DAW, Kasar builds musical worlds where harmonic tradition, ambient sensibility, and studio-based experimentation coexist naturally.
Throughout the interview, Kasar reflects on improvisation as a generative core of his practice, the piano as both instrument and sound source, and the studio as an expanded compositional space. He discusses the continuum between writing, producing, and mixing; the role of technology as an expressive partner; and the importance of resonance, room acoustics, and spatial audio in shaping his musical language.
His reflections reveal an artist who embraces duality—acoustic and digital, intuitive and crafted, human and technological—approaching music as a fluid, alive process where sound, space, and gesture become inseparable dimensions of creation.
Date of interview: 9 October 2025
Question: Today we often hear about the hybrid figure of the composer, producer, and performer. Do you identify with this description, and how do these three dimensions coexist in your work?
Arnold Kasar: Yes, I do. Composer, producer, performer; that combination feels very natural to me. These three roles often merge within a single act of creation.
A central part of my practice is improvisation. I’ve made several projects, recordings, and performances based entirely on it. For example, a few years ago I released a solo piano album of improvised pieces titled Inside Devil’s Kitchen, named after a mountain in the Black Forest.
After that, I began collaborating with another artist who shares a similar philosophy: to improvise only with what is immediately available, with no pre-planning. The idea is to let something grow from an unknown source, to receive the music rather than invent it, as if we are merely the medium through which it manifests.
Of course, this doesn’t always work the way we expect, but when it’s done with empathy, without forcing, and truly from the heart and soul, something beautiful can emerge. And audiences often sense and respond to that authenticity in a very direct way.
Question: Which composers, musical movements, or past sonic aesthetics have left the strongest impression on you, whose languages or philosophies most resonate with your way of thinking about music?
Arnold Kasar: This is a huge question. I believe that every tone I play contains all the tones I have ever heard or performed before, so it is hard to isolate specific influences. I have been listening to, analyzing, and absorbing music, poetry, and art my entire life.
I grew up with classical music as a pianist, so I listened to a great deal of Mozart, Bach, and Beethoven. Alongside that, I have always been drawn to jazz, to artists like Miles Davis, and to musicians such as Frank Zappa, who I think is a bit overlooked today but was very influential for me.
Then, in the early 1990s, electronic music re-entered my life and became a crucial influence. I was deeply inspired by the movement around electronic dance music and by artists like Massive Attack. At that time, techno and house were anything but mainstream. They lived in hidden spaces, abandoned warehouses, and underground scenes known only to a few. Those years, from the early to mid-nineties, were incredibly formative for me, and I still love that sound world today.
Despite my connection to electronic music, I always return to a harmonic sense that comes from the classical tradition. I am probably more influenced by Central European music than I would like to admit, composers such as Chopin, for example.
When I was younger, I would spend nights dancing to electronic music, and when I came home after a long rave, I would listen to a Chopin Nocturne to fall asleep. It was my way of coming down, of finding calm. It might have seemed strange to some of my friends, but for me it made perfect sense. I love both worlds equally, and I think that duality continues to define me.
Question: And for every project, what is the usual starting point for you? Is it a melodic or harmonic idea, a specific sound texture, a technical limitation you set for yourself, or perhaps an abstract emotion that comes from the story?
Arnold Kasar: That is a strong question. In the end, it is about collecting fragments. As I mentioned earlier, the first encounter is often the most important moment, especially when I work in collaboration.
There are really two main parts to my work: collaborations and solo projects. In collaborations, what matters most are the people I work with. Who are they? Can I establish a genuine connection with them? That mental and emotional connection is often the true starting point of the music. Everything else, technical or musical details, comes later.
I need to feel that I can relate to their art and to them as human beings. I have to like what they do; only then can the musical dialogue begin naturally.
When it comes to my own projects, something always has to trigger me. Sometimes it is a word, a sentence someone says that sparks an idea. Sometimes I hear a sound or a song that resonates, and I think: “This is interesting, maybe I should start from here.”
Other times it follows a more traditional path: sitting for hours, trying things, collecting materials. I have endless folders on my computer filled with ideas and layers that I often lose and rediscover months later. Then, while scrolling through them, I suddenly find something and think, “Oh, that was actually a good idea.”
In some cases, I do not even realize I am already working on an album. I only notice later that a few tracks belong together, that they form a coherent world. I might listen to them on my phone and think, “Yes, this could be an album.”
Question: In much of today’s music, time is not always developed through linear narration but rather through spatial repetition or transformations of sound texture. How do you experience time in your own compositions and performances? Do you think of form as a narrative arc or more as a series of self-contained moments?
Arnold Kasar: I experience time simply as it is. Form, for me, can be anything. I do not think too much about it in advance, because the music itself usually defines the form. When I have enough material for an album, it becomes an album; when there is only one piece, it remains a single track.
Sometimes the material develops into several movements, as it happened with The Bruckner Tapes released on Neue Meister, which took the shape of a symphony with four movements. The creation of form, in that sense, is often something completely different from the creation of the music itself.
I am also fortunate to sometimes have another person who helps me reflect on these structural aspects, and I am always open to external perspectives and consultation in that process.
Question: Do you consider the choices of sound, timing, and texture, as well as production and mixing, to be a separate phase from composition, or an inseparable part of the creative act itself?
Arnold Kasar: For me, it is absolutely part of the compositional process. Sound itself is fundamental. Even when it may appear secondary, for instance, when it is just the human voice, it still remains the essential core, because music cannot exist without sound.
Of course, notes are important too, but sound has always been the true basis of music. Whether we are speaking of the piano, the violin, or the orchestra, each instrument embodies a specific sound. Throughout history, composers of every century have cared deeply about this aspect.
Every instrument, every human voice, every percussive element, drums, bones, or any other source, carries its own sound identity. That is where music begins.
Question: Speaking of technology, what role does it play in your creative process? For some composers today, the DAW has become a primary creative space, almost replacing the score, while for others it serves mainly as a tool to refine or finalize ideas. How does this balance work for you? Do you still think mainly in terms of notation and performers, or do you also use technology as a generative space for sound and structure?
Arnold Kasar: For me, technology comes in the second phase. The first step is always the instrument, because I see myself primarily as a musician who plays, sings, or composes directly through an instrument. After that comes what I would call the DAW process.
Usually, I play something on the piano and, if I find an idea that feels meaningful, I record it on my phone so that I can remember it later. Then I move to the writing stage, where I sometimes notate the material, and finally to the DAW, which I also love working with. It is a beautiful part of the process, but I no longer begin there. At the beginning of my career, I often started directly in the DAW, but not anymore.
Question: What kind of DAW do you use?
Arnold Kasar: At the moment, I mostly use Ableton Live, but also Pro Tools. For the piano album, I worked entirely in Pro Tools because it was a recording-oriented project. For other works, such as The Bruckner Tapes, I created everything in Ableton. I honestly cannot imagine producing a project like that without it. It is, in many ways, typical Ableton work.
Question: Do you usually take care of the mixing process yourself, or do you make a premix and then collaborate with someone for the final mix?
Arnold Kasar: I do everything by myself. I wish I could have someone to share that process with, but in the end, I handle it all on my own.
Question: Is mixing for you a creative process, or is it more technical?
Arnold Kasar: It is both. Sometimes the mix becomes a separate phase, but during the first stage of composing, I try to avoid going too deep into those aspects. I do not want to overthink the technical side at that point. The first layouts are absolutely unpolished, more like a painter placing colors and points here and there, or like a script that only I can read. My Ableton sessions are very confusing; I do not label anything.
At a certain point, though, I start to feel that the time has come to clean things up. I cannot explain how I recognize it, but I do. I have learned to trust that moment and to stop overdeveloping ideas once they have reached their essence. That is when I move into the mixing phase.
Sometimes, I leave the project on the computer for a few days and return to it with fresh ears. Only then do I continue refining the production or composition.
Question: Do you ever find yourself thinking in visual or synesthetic terms when you are not composing for images? If so, how do these inner visions influence your musical choices?
Arnold Kasar: Not very much, actually. I am not a particularly visual person, and I do not have a strong visual imagination. I am also not very talented at expressing myself visually.
Sometimes, however, I try to imagine the space around me when I am composing. For example, when I create very dark ambient music, I can picture myself inside a large, dark room filled with air and resonance, like an echoing chamber. But beyond that, I do not have many inner visual images guiding my process.
Question: In my research, I’m exploring alternative ways of representing music, systems that integrate elements such as sonic character, gesture, or even production aspects alongside traditional notation. The goal is to make communication between acoustic and electronic musicians more fluid. From your perspective as someone who moves between composing, performing, and producing, do you think there’s a practical need for such an approach?
Arnold Kasar: It’s a very interesting idea. I think there could indeed be a need for this, especially when people from different musical backgrounds are collaborating. You mentioned the DAW as a central space for electronic musicians, and that’s true, it has become both an instrument and a notational tool in a way. But the traditional score already carries a lot of information beyond pitch and rhythm: tempo, dynamics, phrasing, and emotional direction. These are all elements that describe sound and behaviour, even if they are expressed in another language.
So I can imagine a kind of expanded system that combines the two dimensions.
Question: How do you think about space in your music? For instance, do you consider the acoustic environment, the way sound resonates in a room, as part of the compositional process?
Arnold Kasar: This is very important. My music needs a big room, to be honest, because I compose a lot with long transients. I don’t have beats anymore in my music at the moment. I work with long sustained sounds, long sustained basses and drones, and these need space. Sometimes a single drone or a pad is the sound.
For my live performances, this is also essential. I really like to play in churches, for example. In such spaces my sound develops beautifully, because it can fill the space and breathe within it. You can’t play every kind of music in such places, drums or short transient material don’t work so well, but my music resonates perfectly in big halls.
Next year I’ll be playing at Silent Green in February, which is a very special venue. The piano sounds incredible there, especially in the upper hall, with its large roof, resonant walls, and octagonal structure. It’s the kind of space that makes the sound bloom naturally.
Question: Have you ever experimented with spatial audio technologies such as Dolby Atmos or Ambisonics in your work?
Arnold Kasar: Yes, of course. Some of my works are available in Dolby Atmos as well. My second profession is mastering, I work as a mastering engineer, and I also master in Dolby Atmos. My last two or three albums have been released in this format. The kind of music I create, and the style we are both part of, are perfectly suited to Dolby Atmos because they already contain so much space. The spatial dimension feels completely natural within this language, enhancing the sense of depth and resonance that’s already present in the sound itself.
Question: Do you take care of the Dolby Atmos mixing yourself?
Arnold Kasar: Yes, I transfer my mix into a Dolby Atmos session in progress. You can very easily switch to Dolby Atmos in the settings. With Ableton I have to transfer the stems, which is a little bit uncomfortable, but it’s possible. Then I go into a Dolby Atmos studio and work with some people who have a good setup. I like this format very much, although it’s not yet fully developed. They still need to present it better and build better devices to let people enjoy the sound in a proper way.
Question: Do you think in terms of spatial audio, such as Dolby Atmos, from the very first step of a composition?
Arnold Kasar: Not always, not really from the beginning. But my music is very much related to spatial and immersive sound. The elements of my music are like elements distributed within a room. It’s not a dense or compact sound; rather, it spreads from very low to very high, filling the space in a natural way.
Question: In a world dominated by digital and often solitary listening, how important is live performance in your work? Do you see it as a central part of your artistic identity, and in what ways does it shape the way you compose or collaborate?
Arnold Kasar: It is very important. I like to play live, both solo and with others, but I prefer and love more to perform in collaborations. It’s simply more beautiful. Playing solo is fine, but you are alone on stage, and you cannot share the feeling of that moment with someone else. When you play together with others, when you are in the same rhythm, in the same breath, you experience something that cannot be replaced. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a string quartet or an improvisation; you just feel that connection. That’s what music is all about. And when this energy reaches the audience, it creates new moments in which everyone in the room is united in a unique way.
Question: You have collaborated closely with Hans-Joachim Roedelius, creating works that beautifully blend acoustic and electronic textures. What did this collaboration teach you about the dialogue between generations and different ways of approaching sound? How did it influence your musical language?
Arnold Kasar: I always love to collaborate. Collaborations are especially rewarding when you realize that you’re able to create something larger than the sum of its parts. Working with Hans-Joachim Roedelius taught me a lot about improvisation. He has a very strong concept of it, he never prepares, he simply starts creating, but to do that, he is deeply trained in it. Improvising on stage with him showed me not to worry too much about what will happen, but to let things unfold. You can decide later if you like it or not, and even if you’re not fully satisfied, you’ve still created something from the moment, which is a great gift.
The essential thing is to feel comfortable with the people you’re playing with; that’s the foundation. I learned something similar from working with the singer Friedrich Liechtenstein: not to obsess over perfection. Of course, you should aim to do your best, but if something doesn’t go as planned, that’s often the moment when something truly beautiful can emerge. The unplanned can be the most inspiring part of art.
There was a time, years ago, when I used to plan everything on stage, trying to control every detail through controllers and the DAW. But through experience I learned that you can never fully control what happens live. Even if you can manage the technical side or write everything down in notation, there’s no real reason to control every aspect, because what happens in the room depends on so many factors, your emotions, the atmosphere, the audience. It’s like playing a Beethoven sonata: of course you must play the notes, but how you express them depends on imagination, emotion, and what you feel in that precise moment. That’s the beauty of it, it’s profoundly human.
Question: Hans-Joachim Roedelius is one of the pioneers of ambient music and a long-time collaborator of Brian Eno. How do you relate to the idea of ambient music today? Is it a term that feels close to your own compositional approach, and what does it mean to you as a composer? Do you see a connection with its origins, or has its meaning changed in your work?
Arnold Kasar: I’ve known the term ambient for many years, long before I met Roedelius. It has always been an interesting musical idea for me. I think that, with the way music is now shared and listened to, ambient music has found a new relevance. Today everyone listens individually, with headphones or on personal devices, and this intimate way of listening has brought ambient music back to life. It’s everywhere, surrounding us, and growing again in popularity.
When I was younger, I was more into dancing and club culture, so I didn’t listen to Roedelius much, even though I knew Brian Eno. In Germany, Roedelius wasn’t as well known at the time as he was in the U.S. or the U.K., and I think the whole Cluster and Harmonia scene was somewhat overlooked here. But I later understood that Roedelius was, in many ways, the godfather of it all. Even Eno was deeply influenced by him and by Moebius. Their work profoundly shaped how we think of ambient sound today.
Question: Brian Eno’s statement that the studio is a compositional tool has influenced generations of composers and producers, far beyond the boundaries of ambient music. Do you agree with this idea, and has its meaning changed today?
Arnold Kasar: Yes, I completely agree, and I think it’s even more relevant today. Now we can do everything with just a laptop, and that has changed the relationship between production and composition entirely. What Eno foresaw was visionary: the studio became not only a place to record but a creative instrument in itself.
Earlier generations didn’t have this possibility, but I’m sure that if Beethoven or Debussy had access to these tools, they would have used them. Technology has simply expanded our capacity to create. Personally, I feel between two worlds: I’m a classically trained pianist, I love to improvise, and I can express myself fully at the piano, but I also compose and shape music within the DAW.
That duality makes me feel at home. If the technology fails, I can always sit at the piano and play. The piano keeps me grounded and human; technology expands the possibilities but the instrument reminds me where it all begins.
Question: In several of your works, the piano becomes more than a traditional instrument. It almost seems to speak, or to act as a voice with its own character. How did your interest in preparing the piano begin? You often use prepared piano techniques, what draws you to exploring the instrument’s inner sound world?
Arnold Kasar: I can’t quite remember when I first heard the sound of a prepared piano, but it must have been when I was young. I remember people touching the strings inside a grand piano and creating completely different sounds. Of course there is John Cage, but also some jazz pianists who explored the same idea. Later I discovered Hauschka, who did a lot for the development of this technique. I first heard his music on his album Substantial and it really inspired me.
I started experimenting myself on my first album. I wanted to replace synthesizers with damped piano strings, using the inside of the instrument as a resonant body. When I touched the strings directly I could imitate percussive, almost electronic arpeggios. It was fascinating, and I wanted to create techno-like patterns using only the acoustic piano.
Later I began touching the strings with my fingernails, producing delicate harp-like timbres. In the track Rolling by Joachim and me, for example, there is a second layer of sound made entirely by brushing the high strings with my nails. I love that texture, it reminds me of both harp and guitar sounds, and it allows the piano to breathe differently, almost as if it were another instrument entirely.
Question: You mentioned John Cage. Do you feel connected to the avant-garde tradition of the last century, or do you approach this kind of technique in a more personal and intuitive way?
Arnold Kasar: John Cage, for me, was never only about composing. What he did went far beyond music. I think his work was about breaking rules and changing our perception of what music can be. He showed us that sound itself could be a form of freedom, and that composing is also a cultural and political act.
I have always considered him someone who needed to provoke reflection, to make people question how we create and why we listen. In that sense, I admire him deeply. I wish there were more artists today with his kind of courage, who would dare to challenge the structures that surround us, especially in a time when the music industry is so dominated by capital and corporations.
Platforms like Spotify or the big companies that control the live circuit have turned music into an economic product rather than an artistic exchange. Cage reminded us that we can choose to think differently, to see art as a way of breaking habits. That spirit is something I feel connected to, even if my approach is more intuitive and personal.
Question: You mentioned Spotify a few moments ago. Today music is often streamed, and its circulation is shaped by algorithms. In this landscape, how do you think a composer can still make their own voice stand out?
Arnold Kasar: Yes, this is exactly what I was referring to. It seems that we are being led by companies and streaming platforms, and that the music itself is changing because of the way we listen. Speaking of ambient and electronic music, for instance, listening has become a solitary experience. Each person now lives in their own algorithmic feed.
It is, in a way, a mirror of our hyper-capitalist system. Only a few companies control the entire streaming market, Spotify, Amazon, Apple, and they define the way people discover and value music. I don’t think the solution is purely compositional, but as musicians, producers, and composers, we have to think about how we want to exist within this world.
Are we able to imagine a different system, one that allows us to share and live from our music on our own terms? Or are we simply letting these companies decide how we should create, distribute, and even perceive our work? That’s the real question, and it goes far beyond style or genre, it’s about artistic independence.
Question: There is a lot of discussion today about artificial intelligence in the artistic community. Do you have any thoughts about it?
Arnold Kasar: Yes, I have two main thoughts. First of all, artificial intelligence is not necessarily a bad thing. It can be a wonderful tool, and it can help us solve technical problems or even assist in the creative process. The issue is not the technology itself, but how we allow people and corporations to use it, especially when it comes to monetizing music.
The real danger begins when music can be created without a human being involved. If there is no author, there are no rights, and our entire legal and economic system around music is based on authorship. That’s how we get paid, that’s how film and streaming industries function. Imagine a scenario where a company’s CEO can simply press a button to generate music, without having to deal with artists, lawyers, or royalties. It’s easy to see which option they would choose.
So we have to think very carefully about this. AI-generated music might be convenient, but it risks removing the human being from the center of creation. For me, that’s the crucial question.
The second thought comes from my experience as an engineer. AI is already part of the mainstream, especially in pop music or commercial production, where the goal is often to maintain a certain mood or atmosphere. But above this layer, there will always be another world, classical music, acoustic music, jazz, avant-garde, where the presence of the human being is irreplaceable. AI will never truly enter that space.
It’s a bit like comparing a can of ravioli to a freshly cooked meal. The canned food might be useful when you’re tired, broke, or in a hurry, it’s predictable, efficient, it satisfies a need. But it’s not cooking. The artistry, the care, the taste, and the patience involved in making real food will always exist. The same applies to music. There will be AI music, yes, but there will always be human beings creating with emotion and intention.
Question: When you compose for film, do you feel that your musical language remains consistent with your solo or conceptual work, or does the presence of images transform your process in fundamental ways?
Arnold Kasar: Definitely the second. The presence of images changes everything. When I compose for film, I have to react to what I see, or rather to what I feel while watching the scene. The image triggers an emotion or a thought, and I try to translate that into sound. Sometimes I’m not even responding to what is directly visible, but to something invisible, an underlying tension or atmosphere. That is what I try to express through the music.
Question: When working on film scores, do you prefer being involved from the very early stages, for example, during script writing or pre-production, before any footage exists, or is that not essential for you?
Arnold Kasar: It’s not essential. It’s nice to be part of those early conversations, but it’s absolutely not necessary. In the last film I worked on, I joined the process very late, the picture was already locked, and I composed the score from there.
Writing music for film can be quite complex, especially when you have to synchronize sounds precisely with specific moments on screen. It requires a real understanding of rhythm, poly-rhythm, and timing. You’re not as free in terms of form as when composing independently, but you can also use those limitations creatively. Sometimes that structure itself becomes a source of beauty.
Question: And did you use the piano, the prepared piano, or different instruments for this film?
Arnold Kasar: I used the piano most of the time. At this stage, it’s a bit like playing along with a silent movie, it’s a lot of fun. When I see the scene, I start improvising directly on the piano, responding to what happens on screen in real time.
It’s a very intuitive process, almost like accompanying an old silent film, exactly. And sometimes those improvisations, recorded in the moment, end up becoming part of the final score.
Question: Within film music, or even beyond it, which composers, soundtracks, or musical experiences have influenced the way you approach writing for images? Do you have any preferred composers?
Arnold Kasar: Yes, of course. I have to mention Ennio Morricone. He was simply extraordinary. Then Jóhann Jóhannsson, of course, and also Michael Nyman. I love his scores very much.
But Morricone, for me, represents the perfect combination of everything: emotion, craft, and structure. I think he was so exceptional because he mastered traditional compositional techniques at the highest level. Even in the smallest or simplest film scenes, he maintained an incredible precision. I don’t know his biography in detail, but from what I’ve read and seen in documentaries, he always approached music with the same rigor, no matter the context.
When I was studying, I used to play his Deborah’s Theme from Once Upon a Time in America on the piano. The counterpoint in that piece is stunning, and that’s rare among film composers. Morricone was a true master of counterpoint, and you can hear it in every one of his scores.
I think that’s part of why his music resonates so deeply with people. Even if listeners can’t describe it technically, they feel it. There’s always something happening beneath the surface of the main melody, another layer that speaks emotionally. That’s what makes his work so timeless and powerful.
Question: And when you score a movie, do you try to write thematic material or melodic ideas, or is it mostly improvisation?
Arnold Kasar: Not at the beginning. I usually start by improvising directly on the scene. Sometimes I already have something written that happens to fit, but in general I like to play and react to what I see. Between projects I also collect ideas on my phone, so sometimes I return to them later when a new film comes up.
Question: If you compare that great tradition of 20th-century film music, for example Morricone, with today’s landscape, what do you think has changed the most in the role and function of music for images?
Arnold Kasar: Not so much, I think. Of course there are trends, as in every musical field. When a certain style of film music becomes successful, it often influences the whole industry. Just like in the record business, when a film with a particular kind of score works well, producers sometimes believe it’s the music that made the film special, so they start asking composers to replicate that sound.
There is always a cyclical change in timbre and tonality. In the 1960s and 1970s, film music was often atonal, heavily influenced by composers like Stockhausen, Penderecki, or even Schoenberg. Later, composers such as Jóhann Jóhannsson brought back a more tonal but still avant-garde sensibility. Arrival, for example, is very experimental but remains harmonic rather than fully atonal, unlike film music from fifty years earlier.
In the end, film music always mirrors the music of its time. Since composing for film means working collaboratively, it also depends on the director and the production context. Sometimes you are lucky to work with a director who really trusts you and builds the film around your music; but often it is the opposite, you are asked to follow very specific requests, sometimes even to reproduce the style of another successful film.
Question: Thinking about the professional landscape for composers today, from funding opportunities to collaborations, institutions, and the music industry, what do you feel is missing, and what kind of change would you like to see in the future?
Arnold Kasar: That is a difficult question. I cannot say much, because I have never personally received support from an institution. Of course, when I play concerts that are publicly funded, I benefit from that system, but I have never received a scholarship myself. I have applied a few times, but they always refused me. Sometimes they say I am not avant-garde enough, other times they say I am already too successful. I don’t really know why.
But I don’t miss it. For me, it is a pure gift when someone trusts me. Especially on the commercial side, I have often met people who said, “I like your music, here is some money, do something,” or, “I’ll release it, I trust you.” That is what a composer really needs: people who believe in their work. It doesn’t matter whether it comes from an institution or a record company; what matters is the trust.
This is how our society allows us to build a profession. It is very important, especially in Germany, where we have many orchestras and scholarships for composers. But I think there is still much to improve, and change also depends a lot on the country.
I warmly thank Arnold Kasar for generously sharing his time, reflections, and creative process. His openness has been essential in shaping this conversation within The Sonic Atelier - Conversations with Contemporary Composers and Producers.
By Francesca Guccione