My Columbia colleague George Flynn is a superlative pianist and composer who wrote some very alarming piano works, among them his Three Preludes in which clusters were played by hands, wrists and forearms. "Flynn doesn't make the journey easy," according to David Jackson (Chicago Reader, 1/2/1987): "He doesn't give you a tune to whistle, or a rhythm to tap your feet to. He fills the air with clouds of sound, strange twisted shapes, murmurs and turbulent flurries. It's mind-expanding stuff." I commissioned Drive from him for my Tully Hall recital debut (February 2, 1973), and it arrived, as I recall, about a week before the concert. Knowing George's reputation for strong political statements, I ventured to ask him what "Drive" meant in this context. He explained that the piece (his only work for harpsichord) depicted the adventurous experience of starting a car.