Vladimir Horowitz, the great and wizardly pianist, lived from 1903 to 1989. He played his last recital on June 21, 1987, at age 83. And now we have that recital on disc.

The event took place in Hamburg, allowing the record label, Deutsche Grammophon, to call the album “Horowitz in Hamburg.” A little alliteration is always appreciated.

Horowitz was one of the great uneven performers in all history. Sometimes he could be unsurpassably good; sometimes he could be shockingly bad. You never knew. The unevenness of his mind was reflected in his performances.

Some other great uneven musicians? I’ll give you two singers and one conductor, all of them still active: Plácido Domingo, Jessye Norman, and Lorin Maazel.

In the last stage of his career, Horowitz liked to play on Sunday afternoon. And this recital in Hamburg started at 4:30. Deutsche Grammophon has done a fine job in such tasks as choosing photos. We are even shown a ticket stub.

DG calls this album a “souvenir,” and that is exactly the right word: A recording is never a substitute for a live performance; but it can, indeed, be a souvenir.

This album certainly feels live. Applause is left in. And so are “clinkers,” which is to say, missed notes. Whether there has been some cleaning up — despite the clinkers we hear — I cannot say.

In addition to clinkers, there are fingernails on the keyboard: click, click, click.

The program was a typical one for late Horowitz (and I will go piece by piece in a moment). Disappointingly, one piece from this recital was left out of the recording: Schubert’s Impromptu in G flat.

I can testify from personal experience that no one played this piece like Horowitz. Although I heard him play it many years ago, I feel that I can remember every note.

DG says that North German Radio did not “record or broadcast” this piece for “technical reasons.” That is very mysterious.

In any case, Horowitz began his recital with Mozart’s Rondo in D, K. 485. Horowitz liked to play Mozart in his later years — perhaps because the demands on his fingers were few.

And it’s indeed odd — and charming — to hear the old thunderer play this little piece so often associated with children.

He plays it eccentrically but musically. Some notes are wrongly clipped, and some notes are unfortunately smudged. And Horowitz does some of that strange rushing he was prone to do toward the end of his career.

But then there is grace and inspiration.

He continues the program with more Mozart, this time the Sonata in B flat, K. 333 — one of Mozart’s greatest works for piano. Horowitz is again eccentric and musical. Sometimes he plays like a clod; and sometimes he plays like a god.

The middle movement, Andante cantabile, is beautifully shaped and sung. And the final movement, Allegretto grazioso, is puckish, interesting — unusual.

We next have that Liszt piece, incorporating Schubert: the Valse-Caprice No. 6 in A minor, from “Soirées de Vienne.” This is a very old-fashioned (and wondrous) piece — the kind you might expect to be performed by a pianist born in 1903.

Horowitz is, once more, eccentric. Stated more positively, he is individualistic. One moment, you may say, “What a nutcase. Why did they allow this man onstage?” Soon thereafter, you say, “How brilliant.”

The problem with this account is that you always hear Horowitz in it. Or if that’s not a problem, it’s a fact. He is never out of the way. When Backhaus played this piece, you heard nothing but the Old World.

The afternoon — now early evening — continues with Schumann’s “Kinderszenen,” or “Scenes from Childhood.” And here Horowitz is his magnificent self.

The scenes begin with some of the most beautiful simplicity you’ve ever heard — and some of the most beautiful piano playing you’ve ever heard. Later, there is some awful, unjustifiable slapping and banging. But there is also extraordinary nobility, etc.

This entire traversal is full of style and musicality. It is very, very Horowitzian. He demonstrates great playing: unconventionally great playing.

And I might add that it’s interesting to hear “Träumerei” — his long-favored encore — in the middle of the larger work from which it comes.

We then have a Chopin mazurka, the one in B minor, Op. 33, No. 4 — and Horowitz plays it with perfect rhythmic sense. The bend and snap of that thing are amazing. He plays it very purely, too, with complete refinement.

In this piece — on this track — Horowitz is in total control of his fingers. There is no old-man faltering.

He ends the printed program with Chopin’s “Heroic” Polonaise — so often associated with Rubinstein, but played for decades by Horowitz, too.

Does Horowitz have enough technique — in 1987 — to get through it? Yes. And he summons up plenty of charisma. Or rather, he doesn’t summon it up: It simply flows from him, naturally.

The first encore is another piece — like the Mozart rondo — associated with children: Schubert’s “Moment musical” in F minor, D. 780, No. 3. Horowitz plays it with wonderful savoir-faire.

He seems to have hit his stride, in this second half of the recital.

And then he plays one of his regular encores: Moszkowski’s “Etincelles.” He plays it more slowly than he usually did. And, despite the reduced speed, he does not quite have the fingers for it: It is very messy.

But guess what? The ending is brought off with perfect style — delightful style, giddily delightful style, of the kind that says “Horowitz.”

Critics like to describe Horowitz’s playing as “incomparable” — and that is a very well-chosen word. Whether great or misfiring, it was incomparable — like no one else’s.

To say again, Horowitz was very uneven, especially in his later years. How wonderful that he ended with a good one — a good recital. The magic was present. And how wonderful that, more than 20 years later, we have this CD-souvenir.