The hours I spent learning Beethoven‘s last three sonatas were among the most cherished of my life. They were filled with the exhilaration of being in the presence of something magnificent, something truly meaningful. Over the years, these sonatas have become my intimate companions – a continuous source of learning and an always sympathetic yet mercilessly honest corrective for me… I learned Helmut Lachenmann‘s Wiegenmusik (Cradle Music) as a teenager, around the same time I actually met him at my grandfather‘s home. As a young man, Helmut had been a member of my grandfather‘s choir. I will never forget the impression his warm and friendly manner had on me. The Wiegenmusik was my first profound experience with Helmut‘s music... Much later, in preparation for a joint concert in which I played solo four of his works for piano, Helmut, in his unique way, introduced me to his works and invited me to “listen” – to listen to everything that is acoustically perceptible, to hear the attack of the key and its consequence, and to open up myself more to the beauty of tones, beyond the so-called limits; and ultimately not just with his music, but with all music. This juxtaposition of Beethoven and Lachenmann explores the interaction between the works – the field of tension opened up by their proximity. Without alienating the individual masterpiece, a new listening context emerges. The symbiosis of their auras allows us to experience anew what we have become accustomed to. I dedicate this album to my grandfather Gerhard Wilhelm, who dreamed of living life as a pianist like I do now – as a child of a generation that, unlike his, did not have to experience war. Let us hope that this does not change. Both Beethoven and Lachenmann will help in this endeavor. (Moritz Winkelmann)