The sonata opens with a highly charged, tempestuous presto passage that speeds through several climaxes with relentless energy. The tarantella-like quality of the rhythms, which puts the notes mostly in groups of three, and terse chromaticism form a combination which evokes images of a late November storm. Out of the massive accumulation of energy emerges a pedal point upon which a small and memorable melodic fragment offers a first bit of relief, not unlike a ray of sunshine.

This first part of the slow section offers warm vibrant harmonies on a deep bass open fifth pedal point. However, soon the music becomes very sparse: A mantra-like motif appears and repeats, constantly creeping up in register. When finally the motif can go no further, an avalanche of chords based on the harmonies that accompanied the motif brings the music down to the lowest register and a return to the pedal point that started the slow passage. A brief reminiscence combines both the warm beginning of the passage and the mantra-motif until finally the music seems to drop out altogether.

Suddenly the rhythms and a repeated-note motif from the opening episode reappear. This brings about an enormous vague of sound that opens up the registers for the return to the very beginning of the sonata. This time the music develops mercilessly toward a climactic passage in which evermore momentum is gathered to bring the one ultimate climax, out of which the slow passage pedalpoint re emerges.

The motif that provided relief at the onset of the second passage also returns. However, the pedal point no longer provides a warm background. Instead, a repeated minor second interval accompaniment lends the passage an entirely different atmosphere. After a last outburst of the deep, resonant bass, the music hesitates and finally gives way to silence.

The first sonata, my first "official" opus, is a work in which I consciously set out to combine elements from the past with my own ideas. Few people will fail to hear the influence of notable composers of the first part of the 20th century on my style of writing for the piano. This influence is, of course, no coincidence: I wrote it in a time in which I was actively pursuing a career as a professional pianist.

Adhering to an old ideal of the pianist as both performer and composer, I was interested in creating a dialogue with my audience. Exploring new sounds was not my primary goal: Instead I wished to create music of which parts had possibly been heard before, but never quite like it. Out came a piece that challenges the performer and the audience alike, yet in a way one may find different from many other works written in this time. The piece shows the vigor and passion of a young man searching for his roots.

(Note: The excerpt is played by the composer)