Beloved Beethoven.

"Then let every man do that which is right, strive with all his might toward the goal which can never be attained, develop to the last breath the gifts with which a gracious Creator has endowed him, and never cease to learn."

So is Beethoven quoted by Carnegie Hall as accompaniment to the listing of the final concert of the crowning jewel of their season: a full cycle of Beethoven's piano sonatas to be played by one of the most renowned Beethoven interpreters alive today, Daniel Barenboim. It is rare and wonderful, even in a city as culturally vast as New York City, for two such incontestable musical geniuses to join forces on stage for such a massive event.

It was Barenboim's interpretations that first introduced me to the sonatas, via the EMI Classics complete sonatas LPs, recorded between 1966 and 1969, when Barenboim was only in his mid-twenties. Every interpretation heard since is inevitably compared to these first performances I listened to on my parents' record player. Perhaps it is nostalgic obstinacy, but even the lauded efforts of stalwart pianists like Vladimir Ashkenazy, Alfred Brendel and Richard Goode seem pale to me. My secret love for period instruments and accurate performance practice has led to a soft spot for Malcolm Bilson's cycle recorded on pianoforte, but even Beethoven denounced the inadequacies of this delicate instrument, saying at one point that "it is and always will be an unsatisfactory instrument." The modern piano came about toward the end of Beethoven's life, well after the piano sonatas had been composed, but it is certainly more befitting.

So I keep coming back to Barenboim. Why? His interpretations possess a certain immediacy, as if something divine is exploding from within, with Barenboim's conscious mind simply following the moment. Many critics fault his Beethoven as being too extreme in contrast?the fortes too loud, the pianos too soft. His energy pushes the lingering sections and rushes the runs. What it makes me wonder is, what would it sound like tomorrow or next week? His choices are ephemeral, with no definitive indication that these are the only possible ways. After all, there is nothing in Beethoven's biography that indicates a tranquil demeanor. Even in his deafness, there was constant rumbling. Beethoven was a perfectionist with every work he wrote (he refused to write something down if he hadn't completely figured it out? Well, except in the case of Fidelio). He was also a performer, and most certainly used his interpretive powers to keep growing the works.

For me, the EMI Classics records bring Beethoven's voice to life: its sinister romanticism, high drama and struggle for idealism. Of course, it's nearly 35 years later now. Barenboim is no longer a prodigy pianist, but an elder statesmen of the classiest of classical music. Conductor of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, the Deutsche Staatsoper Berlin and the Staatskapelle Berlin and an outspoken and controversial advocate for a peaceful resolution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, he has most certainly grown as an artist, and following his colleagues' advice, is developing "to the last breath the gifts with which a gracious Creator has endowed him."

These eight performances are landmarks. Two men connected by such strong forces, although separated by 170 years, remind us of what beauty human beings are capable of, in true romantic fashion. Obsessives were buying their tickets last year, but there are plenty of seats available to anyone who was ever moved by the sentimentality of the "Pathétique," cried during Immortal Beloved (either from the story or the gross factual errors) or who simply wants to be a part of a 200-year-old cultural history that belongs to all of us.

"Daniel Barenboim: Complete Beethoven Piano Sonatas," Tues., Thurs. & Sun., June 10-26, Carnegie Hall's Isaac Stern Auditorium, 154 W. 57th St. (7th Ave.), 212-247-7800.