My first teacher was the rain. I listened to the drops. They were the first short, round notes in my childhood imagination. Then came the sun. The notes became longer and more transparent, beginning in the clouds and disappearing into infinity. Wind taught me momentum, the night taught me silence and the suddenness of the morning. I learnt about atmosphere from the smell of the candles in our small Moldovan Orthodox church; the movement and shadows of their flames showed me how to improvise. From language came phrasing, and with that my dreams opened up into the limitlessness of fantasy.

P.K. in The STRAD

Recent CD-Booklets

Take-two: Duette aus Tausend Jahren
Der Tod und das Mädchen
Deux - Duo Kopatchinskaja/Leschenko
Zeit und Ewigkeit
Whats Next Vivaldi?
Plaisirs illuminés: Veress/Ginastera/Coll

Pierrot lunaire
The world according to George Antheil