Liszt Deljavan

When I was 12 years old, I attended the Salzburg Mozarteum, where I was studying the Chopin Concerto No. 2, Op. 21, and two Hungarian Rhapsodies by Liszt, Nos. 11 and 12. In reality, instead of preparing my lessons with Maestro Risaliti, I was intent on learning Liszt’s Second Concerto. I was completely in love with the initial cello theme, where the piano is an instrument in the orchestra. Spending my days in Austria in the company of Liszt’s concerto, I had not prepared the pieces I actually had to play, and I missed the opportunity to perform at the final masterclass. Since the age of 18, I have played very few of Liszt’s works in my recitals and with orchestra, and when I had the chance I have always been hesitant to do so. But as soon as I had the opportunity to make this recording, I took a giant step toward him, and feel that as a result I made a close connection with his work, of course in my own way.

Liszt’s Mephisto Waltzes are not really the simple waltzes as per the romantic tradition. Liszt had conceived the first two Mephistos for orchestra and subsequently transcribed them for solo piano, while the third and fourth waltzes were initially conceived for solo piano. Nikolaus Lenau’s Faust had completely shocked

Liszt; the story of a man who sold his soul to the devil baffled and intrigued the Hungarian composer. The images from which Liszt was inspired in the first two Mephistos are described in such a real, almost violent way that the form of the waltz becomes a true poem for solo piano, and so lends itself to the label of program music. I took certain images that impressed me, and described them in the most sincere (and therefore the most personal) way possible.

The Sonata is a true symphonic poem, but for piano. It is the characterization of the instrument in all its facets. We have again an example of program music, far from the concept of what is a traditional sonata. Continuous narration, without any pause, a constant stream of small sections that are perfectly connected and consequential to one another. As a pianist, I always create the sound of other instruments that I want the audience to imagine they are hearing, but Liszt’s intentions are different: he really wants the instrument to sound as a piano. The figure of Liszt, the great virtuoso, capable of inspiring fanatic adulation from his audience, is thoroughly in contrast with the Liszt of the soul—one who speaks with celestial melodies and transmits violent chords that have very little expression of the melodious. I have performed and taught the sonata during various periods of my life, and I am thrilled to see the release of a recording with my idea of the piece, a piece that perhaps represents the most insurmountable physical-technical-mental obstacle par excellence. A program between the

Mephistos and the Sonata has much to do with the devil. I could very well have continued with the Mephisto Polka or with the Bagatelle sans tonalité that Liszt himself in his manuscript calls four Mephisto waltzes. In the Valse-Impromptu, after an introduction suggesting a dark evolution, there are moments of absolute virtuosic extravagance, pleasant and light, again interspersed with a loving and expressive theme. I immediately liked the idea of combining two moments of Liszt the man in his best inspiration. And what better way to introduce the Devil?

I am very grateful to Tippet Rise Art Center for the extraordinary opportunity I was given to record there. From the first moment in this wonderful corner of the planet, I immediately was aware of the generosity of support for the artist and for everything needed to make an idea as free and inspired as possible and more. From the clean air, to the splendid cuisine (essential for an Italian artist), to the beauty of the accommodations, to the incredible professionalism of every technician involved in the recording—every detail has contributed to the record that I have an immense pleasure to present to you today.

I want to thank Peter and Cathy Halstead most of all for the invitation and for creating the ideal atmosphere for making art.

—Alessandro Deljavan