B.P. Lemon is a Hungarian-American composer, and the piano just happens to be his voice. His name nods quietly to The Legend of 1900, a film about a pianist who plays for himself rather than the world. For years, Lemon’s relationship with the piano was just that, private, instinctive, a place to think and feel without intention of being heard.

That changed when his girlfriend, now his wife and producer, heard something in his playing that felt too alive to disappear. If it could move one person so deeply, maybe it could mean something to others too.

Working at the intersection of modern classical and neoclassical pop, B.P. Lemon creates intimate, cinematic compositions shaped by classical roots, jazz improvisation, and emotion-led instinct rather than genre or formula. Most pieces emerge from improvisation, like private conversations captured mid-thought.

His debut release, Los Angeles Session, was recorded at home during the LA fires, with his wife and their dog nearby, as the city burned and healed. The recordings are unpolished. That honesty defines his work.

B.P. Lemon isn’t chasing virtuosity. He’s translating emotions into sound. His music isn’t made to impress. It’s made to connect.