Sir John Eliot and I met when he came to New York (in 1986, I believe) with the English Baroque Soloists to perform Mozart concertos with my colleague and friend of more than three decades, Malcolm Bilson. Not long afterwards, I had the privilege of participating in the Mozart concerto cycle these two splendid artists were then recording, in the concertos for two and three pianos, which we performed and recorded in London. Both of us studied with the legendary Nadia Boulanger, and both of us learned from her the primacy of character and narrative in performance, and our collaborations always have been shaped by a sense of exhilaration and a willingness to take immense risks.

Beethoven's Fourth Concerto is perhaps my favorite of all piano concertos. The work is one of translucency, transcendental poetry and intimacy; even the exuberance of the finale cannot wash away the serenity of the first movement, or the anguish of the second, whose dramatization of the legend of Orpheus in the underworld is harrowing, indeed terrifying.

Of particular importance in the Fourth Concerto (and a number of other keyboard works of Beethoven, such as the piano sonatas opp. 101, 106 and 110) is Beethoven's specification that certain passages be played on only a single string per note (una corda), progressing to two and then all three (tre corde). One string sounds like a harp, reinforcing the Orpheus legend. Once having experienced its otherworldly sound, one can strive for a sound on the Steinway that resembles it, which is what I shall do in Chicago. And because I believe Beethoven did have the Orpheus legend in mind, I arpeggiate the chords, simulating Orpheus' lyre. [Throughout the concerto] the listener will experience a sense of fervent personal interaction, in which Beethoven speaks directly to us, and mood and energy swings of astonishing range. This volatility will be emphasized by my improvising the cadenzas in the first and third movements, without the slightest preparation.

— Robert Levin