A riverside which is not a riverside.
A memory which has never been a sunrise,
then something of a moat
and a fiery pin in the head.
Kurtág’s response, while full of inner pain, is also tender, its chromatic falling sighs evoking a memory of the Sarabande of Bach’s fifth Suite. Only the final pizzicato chord evokes the ‘fiery pin in the head’.
from notes by Steven Isserlis © 2012