A journey through three centuries of French music: the mystical fervor of Messiaen, the baroque elegance of Rameau, the childlike poetry of Debussy, and the orchestral vertigo of Ravel. From contemplation to ecstasy, this program highlights the many facets of the piano, between silence, dance, tenderness, and chaos.

The program features works from the Romantic era, from Schubert—generally considered the first Romantic composer—to late Romanticism, and even to the post-Romanticism of Richard Wagner. Opus 90 is undoubtedly one of Schubert’s last compositions. It was also the last work I learned and performed in Russia, when the war had already begun and it was clear that it would not end quickly. This work became a profoundly personal experience for me. Late Romanticism is inextricably linked to philosophical thought, particularly German philosophy. The increasing complexity of harmonic language and modes of development led to the destruction of classical musical forms and the emergence of freer musical structures. The Sonata in B minor is one of the most symbolic and intellectually rich works, at least in Franz Liszt’s repertoire. Its incredible semantic density imposes its own rules and defies any pre-existing structure. Content shapes form; Liszt's genius elegantly finds a balance between space and time, free from all constraints. The Sonata in B minor, the overture to "Tristan und Isolde," and Nietzsche's piano miniatures all belong to the same mental space, the same aesthetic. Yes, I wasn't mistaken, Friedrich Nietzsche wrote music. Wagner, Liszt, and Nietzsche are figures of the same era and the same Europe. To grasp this, imagine a Montreal where, in one way or another, everyone knows each other. Nietzsche and Wagner were friends from 1868 to 1872: not mere acquaintances, but true friends, who eventually fell out. Wagner was married to Cosima, Liszt's daughter. Wagner's opera Tristan und Isolde was a scandal. It's safe to say that no film has ever inspired so much hatred and idolatry. Opera has become an essential part of the repertoire, and the overture and final scene are often performed separately, becoming symbols of the exaltation and madness of desire. If you can't stand opera, watch Lars von Trier's Melancholia. He uses the magnetism of Wagner's music to convey a sense of attraction and inevitability: it's so powerful that we almost physically feel the fatal convergence of two planets.