There's a whole raft of books and Web sites out there spun off the success of "1,000 Places to See Before You Die," but the copycats have upped the ante and gotten a little pushy.

Now we're challenged with "1,001 Things to Do Before You Die," "1,001 Books to Read Before You Die" and, more forcefully, "1,001 Albums You Must Listen to Before You Die." (You must, you hear?)

I haven't read any of these books or Web sites all the way through, mostly because of the 1,001 things I have to do before I can go to sleep each night. But their point is to enjoy as many of the planet's superlatives as possible: the most breathtaking views, the most awe-inspiring human achievements, etc., etc.

At the top of my list is to witness the best live performers in action, doing whatever it is they do. I've checked off (some of them repeatedly) the Penguins, U2, Frank Sinatra, LeBron James and Vladimir Horowitz.

I get to put more checks next to some big items on my list this week, because two giants of the piano, Garrick Ohlsson and Lang Lang, will be playing here.

Since piano was my all-out pursuit from childhood through graduate school, attending these concerts is nearly a given. But why would someone as nonathletic and klutzy as can be need to see LeBron James play basketball? Because excellence is just plain thrilling, isn't it? Especially when it approaches the superhuman.

Anyone who's survived high school gym class -- or simply understands the laws of gravity -- knows enough to gape in astonishment when, like last week in Cleveland, James dunks the ball after going airborne nearly at the free-throw line.

And anyone familiar with old cartoons probably knows enough about the piano to appreciate the pyrotechnics Lang Lang will bring to Heinz Hall Tuesday night.

Though his name is pronounced "Lawng-Lawng," Esquire magazine titled a 2005 piece about him "Bang Bang" and compared him to rock 'n' roll legend Jerry Lee Lewis. This Chinese phenomenon, who did his native land proud at the Beijing Olympics opening ceremony, deplores the modern disconnect with classical music: "Put me on MTV, man. Let people see how cool Beethoven is."

Remember the Bugs Bunny short titled "Rhapsody Rabbit"? Or better yet, the Tom and Jerry classic, "The Cat Concerto"? Both cartoons use the score of Franz Liszt's "Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2" as their plot, and both rabbit and cat get help playing this knuckle-buster from an orchestra and a meddling mouse.

Lang Lang was 3 years old when he saw the Tom and Jerry version and picked out the rhapsody's theme on the piano -- a destiny revealed.

But he had no orchestra or mouse or stretchy cartoon fingers to reach the piano's extremities when I heard him play the rhapsody two years ago at London's Royal Albert Hall. He did Horowitz's eye-popping arrangement as an encore after performing a Chopin piano concerto with the Pittsburgh Symphony. (Necessary disclaimer: My husband is a member of the symphony.)

The stranger sitting next to me started laughing when I did, about midway through this aural inferno. What can you do but marvel at such wizardry? We'll get a full helping of it tomorrow night, because Lang Lang is giving something increasingly rare: a solo recital.

Purists who bemoan his over-the-top antics should remember he's harking back to none other than Liszt, the 19th-century virtuoso whose on-stage theatrics the critics deplored, the first pianist to turn the piano sideways so audiences could admire his handsome profile, the first superstar at whose concerts women fainted.

Though I wouldn't play like that even if I could, I wouldn't miss his recital for the world. The man I would play like -- if God have given me more talent and hands that can span a 12th -- is Garrick Ohlsson. He, too, has a ferocious technique, but it's always subservient to the music's meaning.

He performs the Grieg Piano Concerto three times this week with the PSO. It was the first concerto I ever studied, and Mr. Ohlsson is the first pianist I ever heard in concert. My dad took me to hear him play Beethoven with the Kansas City Philharmonic years ago when I was climbing the high school competition ladder with the Grieg.

At a concert in the mid-'90s, he played an encore, a Chopin mazurka, so achingly perfect, so hauntingly beautiful, that I left immediately afterward, at intermission, knowing that nothing could surpass it. Little since then has, but we stay hungry for superlative moments like those. Maybe this week ...