Der Bote - A Lubimov recital

Listened twice this week to this wonderful recital recorded by Alexei Lubimov. Why don't we have more of these intelligent and adventurous compilations, rather than perennial rehashes of the core repertoire? I'm transcribing Lubimov's own liner notes here:

Melancholy - that is the title one might give to this programme. Nostalgic pictures, some will suggest, and others: quiet meditation. Music written for oneself, one might also think; like a diary not meant for publication, in which you note down only what is most personal, what is memorable for no one but you and yet says a great deal.
Whatever else these collected pieces may be given, one or two words are not enough to show why these unpretentious masterpieces from three centuries so smoothly gather into a single strand that unravels a bundle of associations and memories so dear to their performer. Within these composers' works each piece holds a fairly modest place: in most cases it is but a marginal note in a long novel. However, linked together here by their unassuming, meditative poetry and the deeper inner impulse of their creators, who are not inhibited by any commission or external circumstance, they convey a particular significance to me - and to my listeners too, I hope - with its own logic and atmosphere. Thus what we have here is the story of a sort of journey, each stage of which is meant not so much to reveal the composer's soul as to bring us gradually closer to that essential source from which all these musical compositions draw their kinship and to which they owe their inner unity.
Then it no longer seems strange that Silvestrov's Messenger (Der Bote) should sound as if it had come straight out of the 18th century and C.P.E. Bach's Fantasia should appear nearly the most modern piece in the programme (Cage's In a Landscape); that the gentle wistfulness of Glinka's Parting (La Séparation) and the almost Brahms-like bitterness of Chopin's Prelude Op. 45 should have as their perfect counterparts the aloofness and chaste restraint of the elegies by Liszt, Bartok and Debussy; that Mansurian's Nostalgia and Silvestrov's Elegy should point regretfully to the fact that even the radical changes that followed Webern have vanished in a nostalgic past; and that the most avant-garde composer of the 20th century - John Cage - should present us with a most delicate and poetic flower, a genuine East Indian lotus flower floating away on a sea of oblivion ... Oblivion? - There is no such thing as oblivion, Silvestrov says with his Messenger; it is enough to fling open a window, to strike a match, to look at a cloud, to hear a triad, for memories - not only ours but also those, unknown to us, of all these messengers - to start working a miracle.