This album celebrates Piano Day 2022. It was supposed to be recorded last January. Or at least I thought so. That story was described in the last year's Chopped Piano Day's liner notes: binaural-space.bandcamp.com/album/chopped-piano-day

(tl;dr version: My parents were moving out of their flat where I had spent the first two decades of my life. There was a piano there. The very piano I had learned to play as a boy and composed my first compositions with. I got a chance to get there before the move and record a 2-hour improvised session using a binaural microphone. After I finished playing I checked the recording but it was silent – I forgot to turn the mic on. Later that month our Government prohibited everyone from traveling (because of the pandemic) so I couldn't get back to make a new recording. I ended up using stems from my previous piano album, Untuned Piano Day, which resulted in the Chopped Piano Day album.)

Last summer I finally had a chance to move my old piano to our place. I've had my old piano at home since last July. I've lived with my piano, so to speak, for the first time in almost 20 years and it feels great: This piano is the very instrument I understand and love the most. We're one entity together – something that is impossible to experience with any electronic instrument, at least for me.

This privilege of having a real piano in my home studio poured new energy into my veins. I knew my next Piano Day album would be played on this very instrument, untuned in a familiar way (well, it detuned a bit more during the move).

I couldn't wait to make this album and so I made the raw recordings over an afternoon, evening and night in the middle of last summer. Everything was commited directly to tape. My concept from the beginning was the feeling of having a beloved instrument "frozen" somewhere and then experiencing the joy of unfreezing it finally and familiarize oneself with it once more in a thankful reunion.

Its title, Unfrozen Piano Day, had been given from the beginning. Because it was a hot summer and I needed something refreshing, I had this vision of a piano frozen literally: with little icicles on its strings, mechanics and hammers. Whenever I played the keys, these icicles would get shattered, they would fall down and, sliding on the floor, tinkle in the glassy tones of tiny fragments of ice. That was the kind of ambience I strived for.

Unknowingly, I made so many tracks I had material for not one but two or three proper, long play albums and, after some deliberation, I decided to make both the day album and the night one.

Only one problem remained: I needed a corresponding artwork.

I considered a few variants and tried some things but nothing satisfied my vague vision.

However, because these two albums, Unfrozen Piano Day and Unfrozen Piano Nite, are both based on wonderful synchronicities, I was extremely lucky to experience another one that, unexpectedly, solved my problem:

A mere month ago Carb Cap, a fellow musician, was walking his dogs on a frozen lake and he came across a piano – standing right there on the ice covering the lake. He made a photo of the piano on the frozen water surface and shared it online. What's the chance?! I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw it, eager to use a part of this pic as the artwork. Fortunately for me dear Carb gave me his permission to use it and I was in raptures. So a huuuge thanks goes to Carb Cap who contributed the last piece of the mosaic without which neither of the albums would be complete.

That's the story of this album called Unfrozen Piano Nite, as well as its daytime companion, Unfrozen Piano Day (binaural-space.bandcamp.com/album/unfrozen-piano-day). If you like at least one of them, I'm thrilled. If you like both, I'm happy. If you like neither, I don't mind because this has been a rewarding experience by itself and I love the resulting albums. Improvisation is both dangerous and exciting and although there are many mistakes in this music, there are also several wonderfully surprising and surprisingly wonderful moments in it that I have no idea nor recollection of how they got there – I didn't create them, they just happened. That's why I couldn't wait to show these two (binaurally recorded, once again) albums to you, my fans, and I was getting more impatient to do so every day.

It is a big relief to finally share the Unfrozen Piano albums with you and I'll be curious to get to know how you guys like them.

Thank you very much for your ongoing support, for your kind praise and for the love of music that we all share, no matter where we are, what we do and what we believe in. I'm grateful for being a part of such a supportive community and this music is the best way I can express my gratitude; hopefully it will speak to you, too.

Take care of yourselves, please keep supporting indie musicians and have fun listening to these little icycle fragments slowly dancing on ice for your amusement, relaxation and emotion.

Binaural Space, unfrozen Bohemia, Piano Day 2022 (March 29)