Im letzten Zykluskonzert dieser Saison spielte das Mozarteum Orchester am Donnerstag (17. 4.) im Großen Saal eine bejubelte Programmfolge, mit der in drei Wochen das Debüt im Amsterdamer Concertgebouw bestritten werden wird.

Waren das noch Zeiten, als lebende Komponisten Schauspielmusiken liefern durften! Wie lange ist das, einmal vom Jedermann abgesehen, bei den Festspielen auch schon wieder her? Da gibt es etwa Korngolds Musik zu Shakespeares Viel Lärm um nichts, vor allem aber Richard Strauss Bühnenmusik zu Molieres Der Bürger als Edelmann: Gerade die daraus gezogene Orchestersuite op. 60 ist ideal, um die instrumental-solistischen Qualitäten eines Ensembles ins Rampenlicht zu rücken.

Anders als etwa Strawinsky mit seinen klassizistischen Verfremdungen zu Pulcinella, ging es Strauss ja mit Ausnahme des Menuett des Lully nicht um permanente Zitate, sondern - nach der quirlig nur mit Streichern plus Klavier einsetzenden Ouverture - um hörbar amüsant-ironische gedankliche Spielereien: im Solo des der Trompeters etwa der zum Fechtmeister wird, oder in dem - an einen Wiener Bratlgeiger erinnernde - “süffige” Schneider-Solo, das bei Konzertmeister Frank Stadler exzellent aufgehoben war. Von der köstlich gespreizten Persiflage auf eine Pavane, den Auftritt des Cleonte abschließend, ganz zu schweigen.

Ivor Bolton führte die Instrumentalisten engagiert durch die vom Klangbild her kammermusikalisch aufgefächerten Feinheiten. Dadurch wurde im Nachhinein bewusst, was zuvor bei Richard Wagners Siegfried-Idyll doch gefehlt hat: Natürlich ist eine größere Besetzung statt des ursprünglichen Streichquintetts längst legitim geworden. In größeren Räumen mag es notwendig sein. Doch in der „sämig“ tönenden pulenten 23er-Streicherriege mangelte es an Durchhörbarkeit. Auch rückten dadurch die Bläsersolisten – Hornist Willy Schwaiger erneut erste Klasse –in den Hintergrund.

Für Mozart war es freilich die ideale Formation: für das C-Dur-Klavierkonzert KV 503, das eine längst überfällig gewesene Wiederbegegnung mit dem Pianist Ivan Moravec bescherte. Es war eine Preziose, so wie der mittlerweile 78jährige Prager altersweise aus der Erkenntnis langjähriger Beschäftigung - dennoch kraftvoll - den Dualismus von festlich auftrumpfender Attitüde und melancholischer Zurücknahme gestaltete. Das von dieser Interpretation des Solisten ebenso animierte Orchester agierte als idealer Partner unter seinem aufmerksamen Chefdirigenten. Lang anhaltender begeisterter Applaus lieferte die Bestätigung, dass die Botschaft bei allen Zuhörern auf fruchtbaren Boden gefallen war. Einer der raren Anlässe zur Erkenntnis: “So, und nicht anders, gehört das interpretiert!”

© 2008 Dreh Punkt Kultur

On Friday night, the Metropolitan Museum hosted a master: Ivan Moravec, the Czech pianist born in 1930. I have often described Mr. Moravec as a "pianist's pianist," and I'm afraid I will stick to the cliché. He is the kind of pianist quite rare whom others admire, learn from, and bow to. He is a guardian of standards, or a reminder of standards. He is tasteful, aristocratic, noble. He goes right to the heart of a piece, and there is barely a trace of ego in his playing. He is a servant of composers and the music they write.

His program on Friday night began with Mozart: the Fantasy in C minor, K. 475. In talking about Mr. Moravec, I lean on the word "judgment," which encapsulates a great deal. He simply exhibits judgment. He obeys structure and line. And there is great evenness in his playing no note out of place, no note given the wrong weight. Everything matches.

He also produces an excellent sound, playing into the keys, with nothing on the surface. When he wants to sing, he sings. And when he plays a forte, it is an honest forte: with no percussiveness, no banging. His loud playing is rounded, with a glowing quality, when that is desired. And he doesn't play fortissimo when forte is called for. This is an honest pianist in every respect.

Mr. Moravec was straightforward in Mozart's Fantasy, and maybe a bit slow, slightly plodding the piece did not sound like much of a fantasy. But, whatever his tempo, Mr. Moravec keeps the pulse he has a supreme sense of pulse. You might think he had some sort of governor within him, a perfect little motor.

He next turned to the Prelude, Chorale, and Fugue by César Franck. This is a wonderful piece, and a bit old-fashioned. It used to be a staple of piano recitals, but only senior pianists play it now, and younger pianists with a healthy respect for the past e.g., Evgeny Kissin. Mr. Moravec played it magisterially, commandingly, with his customary judgment. He was disciplined yet expansive (expansive enough). You might have liked a touch more wildness, but at least Mr. Moravec forbade bombast.

And his playing had tension, of the right kind: an expectancy, an aliveness. There was nothing dead or blasé in these notes.

After intermission, Mr. Moravec turned to Debussy, one of his specialties (if a pianist like this can be said to have specialties). He played "Images," Book I, whose first piece is the beloved "Reflets dans l'eau." Mr. Moravec played this beautifully, evenly, with subtle colors. He was, of course, modest and unshowy, but his technique is ample. One reason Mr. Moravec can play so easily is that he never reaches for anything he moves his arms, not his hands, leaving his fingers in position.

The "Images" complete, it was time for Chopin, beginning with two Mazurkas, both in C-sharp minor. Mr. Moravec gave these little pieces great character, just the right amount of flair. His musical timing is amazing. And he closed his printed program with Chopin's Barcarolle, in which he was less than his best self. He was a little sluggish and limp.

But the Barcarolle's ending was superb. We heard beautiful, perfectly weighted chords in the left hand under perfectly rippling, even runs in the right. Classic Moravec.

There would be three encores, beginning with Chopin's Prelude in A, one of the briefest pieces in all of music. It makes the "Minute Waltz" seem like "Die Meistersinger." Mr. Moravec likes to use it as an encore, and he plays it with utter grace, as he did on Friday night. He next played Debussy's "Serenade of the Doll" (a favorite encore of Horowitz's, too). In the first measures, Mr. Moravec's detached playing was exemplary: delicate, elegant, but sparky.

And, to bid the audience goodnight, something from the homeland: Smetana, played jauntily, pleasingly, and purely.

You couldn't help noticing that, when it came time to bow, Mr. Moravec stepped out of the spotlight and into the shadows at the side of the stage. A modest man, yes, with little to be modest about. He is a pianist of the first rank. The crowd at the Met Museum was very sparse, filling what seemed like half the auditorium. We live in a world of hype, and Ivan Moravec is not hyped.

But I'm sure that he didn't care about the size of the crowd: He was serving music, and setting an example for those around to hear..

© 2007 The New York Sun, One SL, LLC. All rights reserved.

My family and I attended this concert in the cozy atmosphere and warm acoustics of the Grace Rainey Rogers Auditorium this past Friday night. I wanted my best friend (my wife) to hear him since she is a huge Debussy fan (a beautiful player of his music as well) and she loves the Images I & 2. I thought this would be a real treat, especially given Mr. Moravec's reputation for his artistry and interpretation of Debussy and Chopin. And since my daughter is studying piano, I thought it would be a special event for her as well. We were all very happy we attended.

Mr Moravec's playing did a wonderful job of erasing the outside worries, including a nasty winter storm that dished out plenty of winter's worst (cold, sleet, snow, wind and slippery streets) to batter us as we walked to the museum from the subway. Once inside and with the concert underway, Mr. Moravec came out and quietly got down to what is his passion. Ivan Moravec - the person - radiates a friendly and noble persona on stage: serene and empassioned in his total focus on the piano; shyly acknowledging the shouts of audience approval after every piece, by placing his hand over his heart, telling us how touched he was that he pleased us.

Ivan Moravec - the concert pianist - effortlessly shows us his technical skills, supremely matched against his interpretive playing. Excellent point in the article by Mr. Nordlinger about "ego-less" playing. He simply communicated the beauty and emotion of whatever he played. And his ability to trickle like water, flit like butterflies and present passion in an emotional intensity without harshness was magical. His Mozart Fantasy sang a sweet song. The Franck was dark, intense and also lyrical at times - his cross-over hand playing was mouth-dropping to watch and hear as he yielded nuances and emphasized notes and phrases that were beautiful. Debussy's Image I was emotional, dreamy and intense and evocative of an angelic harp in many places. Three Chopin pieces that closed his formal program were an excellent change of pace and offered the robust dance rhythms of two Mazurkas and then a lush and calming Barcarolle.

I would agree that Mr. Moravec's personal style is what should be taught to today's new generation of pianists. My daughter, (10 years old) who is also studying piano, was inspired to dive into Beethoven's Fur Elise (a bit advanced for her current level) on her own the very next day, and sit for hours playing it, over and over, pushing herself, was clearly influenced. That night, she saw that Moravec was Grandpa's age and when I kiddingly told her during the intermission that he was hand-syncing (she is aware of the lip-syncing nonsense that goes on in much of the pop music we all enjoy), and then reassured her that he was definitely playing, I think that it made a deep impression. It's not that she is totally unaware of classical music. She's been around classical music for all of her life (and she also studies a wind instrument as well and is a member of a children's choral academy), but I sensed something different this time. I watched her look and listen to Moravec play his Debussy and Chopin following the intermission, and she was focusing much more intently...listening and enjoying even more.

Ivan Moravec was gracious enough to play for the audience 3 encores, the last one was a Smetana polka that was so energetic and happy...a fitting tribute to his national background, but also a wonderful way to say thank you and until next time we are lucky enough to be together.

Following the concert (which I think was also a little thin in the upper deck of the auditorium due to the bad weather outside), a group of people waited and then went backstage. We decided to also tag along and were the last ones on line. We waited as he spoke happily to some friends, his wife was there as well and then he spotted us. He immediately came over to us smiling as if he knew us and shook our hands smiling and saying hello. I noticed that he had a bandage on one of his fingers - so he performed while healing - and I told him how happy we were that the snowstorm had not prevented him from coming. You may think this immaterial, but that he would warmly welcome us, shake our hands (they are after all his livelihood) and come over to us, as if we were newly arrived at a private gathering in his home and not being attended to, was so very nice, an honor and a sweet memory - a sign of the [text omitted].

I urge you to go hear him. And bring some children and/or anyone else with you. I note with interest that the next day after hearing him play, my daughter sat at our piano and dove into Beethoven's Fur Elise (still advanced for her current level). Coincidence? Nope - I don't think so. Newly inspired in my opinion.

Ivan Moravec is a rare gem in our overhyped world of "me-time", which extends to classical musicians too. His pianistic musicianship is sheer poetry and to feel the colors and sounds played live wash over you is an experience I know we will never forget. Of course, if you already know Mr. Moravec's playing, then you need no preaching from me - we are in agreement of the man's reputation of playing from his heart and soul.

Like virtually every aspect of contemporary culture, classical music has succumbed to the lure of youth, glitz and sex appeal.

That's why the presence of pianist Ivan Moravec as guest soloist for Friday evening's Colorado Symphony concert in Boettcher Concert Hall was so reassuring. He is the antithesis of all three of those qualities.

The Czech-born keyboard veteran, who has appeared with many of the world's top orchestras, is old school in the best sense, an artist who puts the music above all else and is not afraid to whisper when others shout.

A model of Mozartean grace and elegance, he offered a disciplined, thoughtful interpretation of the composer's Piano Concerto No. 14 in E flat major, K. 449. Nothing forced. Nothing prettified. Nothing overdone.

Especially noteworthy was his utterly spellbinding take on the slow movement - direct, honest and supremely expressive playing.

That performance alone would have been worth the price of admission, but the audience got to hear another side of Moravec's artistry as well. He returned as soloist for César Franck's less frequently heard Symphonic Variations for Piano and Orchestra.

Once again, the pianist distinguished himself. Some people might prefer a more flamboyant approach, but Moravec's understated version evocatively captured the work's range of emotions and attained a level of sublimity in the slow section.

To hear Moravec in these two works was a rare and and not soon-to-be-forgotten privilege.

Because of music director Jeffrey Kahane's continued illness, Christoph Campestrini stepped in as guest conductor, necessitating a change of program that forced the unfortunate replacement of works by Witold Lutoslawski and Jean Sibelius.

After showing himself to be a capable accompanist on the first half, Campestrini got his chance in the spotlight, and he made the most of it. He led a stirring performance of a substitute selection, Franz Schubert's Symphony No. 9 in C major, D. 944, "The Great."

He brought a sense of immediacy and drama to this music, conveying the architectural scope of the massive piece while highlighting its inner dialogues and dynamic contrasts.

Fine arts critic Kyle MacMillan, kmacmillan@denverpost.com

Ivan Moravec is, at last, becoming quite a regular visitor to Munich and is building up a devoted following there. There were many familiar faces in the audience for his concert at the Herkulessaal in the Munich Residenz palace on May 15th, and a long line of admirers queued afterwards before the table where Mr Moravec patiently signed CD's (and a new DVD) for the best part of half an hour.

Arguably the highlights of the concert came in the first half - Mozart's Fantasie in C minor KV 475 followed by César Franck's Prélude, Chorale et Fugue. Aficiandos will know that Mr Moravec has recorded both works wonderfully well, but on this occasion his interpretations seemed still deeper, his tone yet more sonorous. The Franck in particular was perfectly gauged and ended with a mighty peroration that, one felt, could hardly have been more overwhelming had the pianist had an organ at his disposal. (Typically,Mr Moravec had spent hours of work on the instrument beforehand to ensure that, technically, it was exactly as he wanted it).

In the second half Debussy's Images (book one) were followed by Chopin - two mazurkas (op. 30, Nr. 4 and op. 50 Nr 3), and the Barcarolle, opus 60. Riveting performances all - but arguably lighter fare after the sheer emotional weight and drama of the first half. Might it in principle have been better to have reversed the order of the offerings, thus ending with the Mozart and Franck? Perhaps - but then, almost inevitably neither the pianist nor his instrument would have been quite as fresh for the grand finale. Mr. Moravec is not just a great artist but a pragmatic one.

Alas, there were no reviews of the concert itself because it came just before a religious holiday (on which no papers appeared). There were, however, two striking pieces in the Munich press beforehand. In one, Mr Moravec talked to the Münchner Merkur about his attitude to recording, teaching and his thoughts on how the “music business” had changed over the years. In the other, Egbert Tholl of the Sueddeutsche Zeitung wrote a long, well-researched article under the heading Vielfalt der Schönheit (Diversity of Beauty). Tholl drew attention not only to the pianist's concentrated and “deeply serious” approach to all that he played, but also to his “wonderful legato” and beauty of tone. Mr. Moravec, Tholl recalled, had fallen in love with opera as a child and had regularly heard records of Caruso and Gigli. “Much of the expression available to the human voice, of its inexhaustible possibilities,” the critic added, “can be identified in Moravec's piano-playing.”

Récital Ivan Moravec (piano), le 20 septembre

Dans le programme du 28e festival Piano aux Jacobins, à Toulouse, la photographie du grand pianiste tchèque Ivan Moravec est en blanc et noir. Exactement comme le petit bonhomme qui s'avance à pas comptés vers l'autel de la chapelle du Cloître des Jacobins où trône le Steinway.

Né à Prague en 1930, Ivan Moravec fait partie de ces pianistes dont on connaît le nom sans savoir si on les a jamais vraiment entendus en concert. Il attaque, dans la soirée du 20 septembre, par la tragique Fantaisie en ut mineur K.475 de Mozart. Moravec y déploie une sonorité de cathédrale, d'une solennité sans lourdeur. C'est un piano fleuve, qui porte des alluvions, transmis par des maîtres comme Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli, dont il fut l'élève, de 1957 à 1958, à Arezzo, en Italie. Ce piano symphonique, quoique d'un étonnant délié, taille le Prélude, Choral et Fugue, de César Franck, dans l'étoffe des sons. Avec une infinie nostalgie. En sortant de la scène, Ivan Moravec a un petit geste de la main, vainqueur.

C'est un Debussy capiteux et d'une parfaite opulence hédoniste que nous livre Moravec en seconde partie, un mouvement ample et fou qui emporte sur son passage Clair de lune, Reflets dans l'eau et Jardins sous la pluie

Puis Chopin. Deux nocturnes, sol mineur op.15 grand seigneur et mi mineur op.72 n°1, presque majestueux, jusque dans le déhanché des basses, avant le beau choral psalmodié. La fameuse Ballade en fa mineur op.52 clôt avec panache un récital accompli de la première à la dernière note dans une ferveur qui n'a d'égal que le côté très haut en couleur du petit bonhomme en blanc et noir.

The name Ivan Moravec is scarcely a household one, though it is held in high respect by executants and connoisseurs. The Czech pianist features in Philips's Great Pianists of the 20th Century series and he is described by New Grove as one of the finest Chopin interpreters of that century.

Even at nearly 77, he has not lost his appetite for strenuous programmes, as was shown by last night's recital of Mozart (Fantasia in C minor), César Franck (Prélude, Chorale et Fugue), Debussy Images and a Chopin group culminating in the Fourth Ballade in F minor. Whether such a workout can be considered wise is another matter: The big rolled chords of the Franck Chorale lacked bravura and nothing flowed easily - phrasing was lumpy, progress laboured in both the Franck and the Mozart - and there were memory lapses.

Moravec's tone has remained mellow - the Hommage a Rameau from the Debussy set had a lovely pearly quality - yet powerful reserves are available when needed. The forest of notes in the Chopin Ballade was impressively negotiated, even if little sense of shape or structure emerged. But with the main business out of the way, there was a transformation.

A witty, precisely articulated Haydn Presto proved a well-judged encore, as did a selection of three Mazurkas by Chopin: subtle of phrasing, pregnant with melancholy, touched with the magic of former years. Certainly good enough to earn a third star.