Pogorelich, Liszt Sonata,1993, Spain. To the memory of his mentor, teacher and wife Aliza Kezeradze.

Santander,Spain,1993. I dedicate this recording to the memory of Alice Kerezade.

Recording dedicated to the memory of Pogorelich`s mentor, teacher, and wife, Aliza Kezeradze, who lovingly passed on to him the tradition of the Liszt-Siloti school, before her untimely death in 1996. This recording pays homage to this exceptionally refined, visionary, and truly revolutionary woman, who made Pogorelich not only a unique artist of genius, but the best ever at the level of Horowitz and Maria Callas.

Ivo Pogorelich is not only an artist of the highest caliber, discipline and musicianship, but the archetype of the modern artist, the isolated and courageous master, who finds his own way to new heights of expression, no matter the prejudices or the barriers of misunderstanding raised against him. He stands alone at the beginning of a new epoch like a prophet, mapping the routes that art would take.

Pogorelich´s cathartic and mystical sound, is concerned with the ultimate mysteries that transcend this world. His grandiose, colossal and majestic art, symbolizes the struggle of the human soul to find release from the bonds of its material body. His exquisite and overwhelming music continues to echo throughout the entire performance and beyond, so the action is at once momentary, eternal and complete.

Pogorelich´s interpretations are indescribably beautiful and irresistible. His sound is pure poetry and extremely emotional, yet entirely unsentimental. We are hypnotized by his new and radical naturalness, by his nobility, dignity, severity and sobriety; transporting us to states of wonder, ecstasy, meditation, love and compassion.
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Sound and Silence, Life and Death, Time and Space; collapse into the Eternal moment of Infinity.

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EL REY DEL AJEDREZ -

Tu eres el protegido de la Muerte
que contemplas clavado en tu Tumba
el Juego de la Vida.

Eres el que lleva los ojos
en los clavos de una Cruz.
Tus manos acarician con ternura
las espaldas ciegas de tus soldados.

Tus guardianes armados y desalmados
te piden de rodillas
que claves una cruz en sus pechos
porque tienen miedo de no ser crucificados
en el momento deseado.

Leales pintores avanzan dibujándote
los secretos caminos de la Muerte.

Tus lágrimas de acero destrozan al caer
los desnudos dedos de tus pies.

Sobre el teclado de Tierra
la lluvia desentierra
las mil manos de la Guerra.

! Oh Rey del Ajedrez
dolor vivo de tu niñez !

! Tu mueres por no Vencer
y también mueres por Vencer !
A.S.