Today I am thinking about the contrast between two concerts I heard recently. In one, listening was the subject--active, attentive, spellbound listening, backed up by all kinds of skill: in the composition and in the performance. Mysterious, challenging, cathartic.

In the second, where I had anticipated warmth and sensuality since I was familiar with the music, authenticity seemed rather to be the subject: historical, theoretical, literary authenticity.

The first took me by surprise: works by a living composer, 39 years old: Matthias Pintscher, completely new to me. Give him a listen whenever you get the chance.