The music selected for this disc is necessarily heterogeneous, and had to meet several criteria. First and foremost, we could only choose from what was available: the studio recordings in the archive of the Hungarian Radio, and recordings made at concerts. Since the available material was far more extensive than that finally included on this disc, another important criterion was Márta Kurtág and György Kurtág’s assessment of each recording: if there was a readily available performance by them of a given piece, one they now see as artistically more persuasive, they thought it better to pass over the less convincing versions. This was in spite of their documentary value, and even if it would be instructive to trace how their concept of the pieces has changed down the decades.

Most of the compositions now have a history of nearly four decades, and this naturally entails a change in the way they are seen. The first books of Játékok (Games) are today, perhaps unjustifiably so, seen as a piano method – as if the pieces were intended not so much for concert performance as for honing the technique and musical thinking of piano learners. The various selections made by the composer, including the more or less coherent series played by the Kurtágs in concerts (and in the groups of works on this disc), have since the late 1970s persuaded the public that these compositions, satisfactorily organized, are far from being study pieces but are important stages in Kurtág’s work as a composer. Since the notation of these pieces differs in places from customary notation, we are fortunate in having access to authentic performances of most of them; the special significance of this disc is that most of the recordings were made very soon after the works were written. It is an imprint of the composer’s vision at the time of writing, preserving something of the direct experience that nurtures the fresh wonder of novelty.

In addition to the ‘philological’ lessons to be learned, and beyond the direct benefit to those working with the pieces, these recordings are made particularly important by the sensual aspect of this music-making. Recording technology has changed enormously over the decades (we can clearly hear how the quality of recordings from different years varies, the condition of the instruments, the imperfect tuning, the way the ‘opportunities’ afforded by studio technology were poorly interpreted in Hungary) but the listener is immediately placed close to the works themselves, and concentrates on them alone. The listener pays attention not to how the recording sounds, but to what can be heard. They will understand that the almost tangibly present authenticity is not simply because we hear performances by the composer and performances congenial to him.

The number of those who have been fortunate enough to hear the Kurtágs play the piano live, on the concert platform, is steadily dwindling. They may remember which pieces were played by György Kurtág, and which were played by Márta. They may recall the incredible quality and sensitivity of the piano sound which always characterized their playing – perhaps this is what the disc captures least. But it shows without fail the clear form, the sensitivity to structure, the nuanced agogics and astonishing suppleness – artistic wholeness.
This disc is, then, more than a mere document. Though a document it undoubtedly is, in the sense that it preserves perhaps the last moment of a great period of performing art, when tradition was fully incorporated into the new, showing that history can continue, there is no rupture. One might well ask whether this moment has now irrevocably passed. In order to answer this question, fortunately there are things to guide us, like this disc, which is (to quote the title of one of the compositions) a kind of ‘Wandering in the past’.

András Wilheim
(Translated by Richard Robinson)