I’m immeasurably fortunate to have enjoyed a lifelong appreciation of music. All kinds, but especially that of the classical realm and particularly those works devoted to the piano. Ever since my first paycheck I’ve always invested in the quest of musical enlightenment. The woman that still chooses to live with me today well recalls my LP collection’s companionship within the confines of our 1976 cross-country road trip to resettle in Maine. Just the three of us, plus two cats, in a VW Bug.

Though eventually converting to digital recordings, I’ve held on to that same year’s Deutsche Grammophon vinyl release which introduced me to Martha Argerich’s electric performance of Ravel. For me, Martha Argerich had no equal. Today it sits near my CD player as a reminder that it’s yet to have been reissued. Someday, fingers crossed, its now-distant analog immediacy will become available in compact disc form. It also reminds of a time when recorded music enjoyment involved a low-tech ritual that somehow enhanced one’s engagement. A time that allowed one’s even then multi-tasking life a timeout to experience recorded music as if it were an actual distraction-free concert performance. People actually invited other people to “hang out” so as to listen to personally transformative music together.

Thankfully, CDs haven’t yet gone the way of LPs. I remain immensely reassured by still being availed of a recorded product that’s physically “here” rather than somewhere “out there” in some imagined ethereal “cloud.” When guilty of materialism I still prefer old school in hand possession accompanied by learned liner notes and a tangible permanence. Many of the recordings I most treasure have long departed easy availability and remain nonexistent to any Internet query. Many recordings I’ve found by chance in still existing brick-and-mortar resale marketplaces turn out to be more valued than those more readily e-accessible competing performances I already have of the same compositions.

Being totally blindsided by the undeserved obscurity of such rarities reinforces the truism that the most reliable critic is one’s own ears. With classical music the greatness of the works themselves is an established given. The only thing in play in their live or recorded performance is the individual interpretation. Trust no one. Listen to everything. Establish one’s own personally encountered preferences.

Despite having an extensive CD library dedicated to a timeless repertoire that’s unchanging in its bountiful but finite offerings, I’m always attentive to experiencing yet another fresh reaffirmation of that ageless artistic expression’s continued relevance. Just when I’m finally convinced that I needn’t purchase yet another interpretation of anything, I’m repeatedly proven justified in opening myself to yet another impossibly perfect, possibly definitive, performance. One never knows where another Martha Argerich waits to be discovered.

When Lise de la Salle recently performed with the Midcoast Symphony Orchestra the stars aligned in providing a lightning-striking-twice opportunity to hear the classical piano performed locally at a level of accomplishment rivaling any in my possession or memory. For those in attendance on that Sunday afternoon at the Orion Performing Arts Center, musical greatness again manifested itself in Topsham. When her virtuosity first graced Midcoast Symphony’s Lewiston and Topsham venues three and a half years ago I eagerly attended both events. As memorable as those performance were, this one will remain even more so.

During the duet-like demands of the Schumann concerto the MSO was thoroughly first-rate. Her commanding performance was beyond extraordinary. The piano’s clarity of sound was equally marvelous. No analog or digital recording could ever do it justice. I devotedly arrived well over an hour prior to the concert and calculated the perfect seat, 6th row and straight back from the keyboard. At Portland’s Merrill Auditorium the sound would have passed above, but the Orion’s seating rises steeply enough that I had optimum acoustics and an unobstructed up-close view of hers hands. Imagine an awe-captivating blur reminiscent of a hummingbird’s wings. That’s what her hands looked like engaging the keys. Fire didn’t leap from the tips of her fingers, but nearly so.

My personal discovery of Ms. de la Salle’s brilliance came by way of her first recording on Naive in 2003. Despite superb subsequent recordings, that initial outing’s inspired pairing of Rachmaninov and Ravel remains my favorite. It also sits near my CD player, heralding an especially worthy successor to Argerich.

Excellence in contemporary classical music performance abounds. Abundant recent recordings demonstrate ample supply of upcoming classical piano luminaries as well as formidable performances by venerated masters of the piano repertoire. Outside of most Americans’ distaste, classical music continues to captivate growing audiences.

Most notably, Krystian Zimerman’s recent meditation on Schubert’s final sonatas offers up yet another bar-setting recording. Like Lise de la Salle’s spectacular Schuman interpretation, Zimerman’s adventurously illuminating insight fully matches the heroic romanticism of the works themselves.

We live in a world that increasingly worships communication rather than what’s being communicated. Fortunately, Maine’s midcoast worship of summer collaterally offers up an abundance of esteemed musical communication celebrated by both the Bowdoin International Music Festival and the Kennebec Early Music Festival.

Treat yourself. Give a listen to some serious greatness.

Gary Anderson lives in Bath.