The unifying idea of the concerto provides a way to get a handle on György Ligeti's experimental spirit, for a concerto here represents several fundamentally different things. The Cello Concerto of 1966, right at the height of Ligeti's exuberantly fearless adventures in 1960s Germany, might almost be called an anti-concerto, with the cello doing its best to hang on the edge of silence. Sample the very first movement, both for the precision of cellist Christian Poltéra's work at the low end of the dynamic spectrum and for the ideally clean engineering work by the BIS label, operating in a variety of Norwegian venues and mastering them, well, masterfully. The Chamber Concerto for 13 Instruments and the Melodien are essentially concertos for orchestra, with distinctive roles for each of the instruments, while the five-movement Piano Concerto, completed in 1988, is a fine and technically demanding example of Ligeti's later pulse-based, polyrhythmic style.

Kreeta-Maria Kentala, who has recorded several great albums for Alba, is this time accompanied by pianist Joonas Ahonen. There have been a lot of recordings of these Beethoven sonatas, but in this recording something has been achieved that is not present in previous recordings. Joonas and Kreeta-Maria's playing is refreshingly fresh and in good spirits. The recording was made in the Schauman hall in Pietarsaari. Joonas Ahonen's instrument is a Conrad Graf from around 1827, a fortepiano and a baroque violin made by Kreeta-Maria Kentala at the beginning of the 20th century In the booklet, the texts contain a fascinating text written by Minna Lindgren about Beethoven and the birth of the sonatas on the disc. The novelty of Ahonen and Kentala clearly goes to the top of this art music recording spring and will probably still be there when you look at this year's entire domestic record crop.

George Antheil called himself a ‘Pianist-Futurist’. A lover of speed, cars and aeroplanes, the American composer settled in the Paris of the Années Folles, where he frequented Picasso and Stravinsky, and composed works such as Sonate sauvage and Jazz Sonata, which caused a scandal: during a concert in Budapest, he even brandished a Chicago gangster-style pistol to restore silence in the hall … He hero-worshipped Beethoven, whose pieces he played in the first part of his recitals before moving onto his own music. In 1933, he returned to the United States where he met John Cage and Morton Feldman. Patkop and the young Finnish pianist Joonas Ahonen – whom The Times, following what the journalist described as ‘one of those concerts you remember for ever’, presented as the violinist’s ‘doppelgänger’! – pay tribute to the ‘Bad Boy of Music’.

The Piano Sonata No. 2 ("Concord") of Charles Ives has tended to overshadow its predecessor, and it's no accident that pianist Joonas Ahonen chose to record that one first. The Piano Sonata No. 1, begun in 1901, represented an underappreciated breakthrough for Ives, even if he did continue to tinker with it into the 1920s. The work encompasses the polyphonic weaving of many strands of American music that would occupy Ives for much of his mature compositional life. Although the composer described it as inspired by "Impressions, Remembrances, & Reflections of Country Farmers in Conn.[ecticut] Farmland," it might better be described as a dialogue between country and city, with Protestant hymns set against and sometimes merged with a ragtime pulse as strong as any elsewhere in Ives' music.

Of the two large piano sonatas composed by Charles Ives, No. 2 (’the Concord Sonata’) is by far the best-known, overshadowing its sibling. The First Piano Sonata is comparably ambitious, however, and with a playing time of more than 40 minutes, similarly expansive. Like many works by Ives it had a long gestation period, beginning in 1901 with additions and revisions being made well into the 1920s. In contrast to the Concord, Ives didn’t provide the work with an explicit programme, but wrote that it was ‘mostly about the outdoor life in Connecticut villages in the 1880s and 90s.’ This can to an extent explain the various borrowings from hymns, but New York City, where Ives was living, has also left a clear mark with a liberal use of ragtime rhythms.

Pierrot lunaire, premiered in Berlin in 1912, is a series of twenty-one short melodramas for voice and five instruments on German translations of poems by Albert Giraud. Here the composer first introduces Sprechgesang (speech-song), a technique that revolutionised declamation. Schoenberg wanted the piece to be ironic, at once tender and grotesque, in the manner of cabaret songs.