Ivan Moravec recent concert reviews

Ecrire sur l’art d’Ivan Moravec constitue un défi considérable pour quiconque est pleinement conscient de la grandeur de sa contribution à l’histoire de l’interprétation pianistique et, plus généralement parlant, à la survie d’une tradition musicale par ailleurs quasi complètement disparue. Cela se révèle vrai, cette fois encore, même si on tente de ne retenir que les traits les plus marquants de son dernier récital, donné à Prague le 10 octobre dernier.

Ecouter Ivan Moravec jouer dans la salle Dvořák du Rudolfinum à Prague a toujours été, et reste encore cette fois, une expérience tout à fait particulière pour l’auteur de ces quelques lignes ; si une comparaison tirée du monde sportif offre quelque à-propos dans le cas présent, cette expérience a quelque chose en commun avec le fait de regarder une équipe de football jouer « à la maison » : la salle est habituellement emplie de membres de la famille, d’amis très proches, d’élèves passés et présents et, last but not least, d’un grand nombre de personnes qui savent qui est réellement Moravec. Une atmosphère d’humanité profonde se dégage tant de la personne et de la musique de l’artiste que, à son tour, du public réuni pour fêter un événement combien trop rare - en ce comprise, de manière assez honteuse, l’Europe tout entière pour plusieurs mois à venir !

Humanité profonde : c’est là, peut-être, la caractéristique la plus frappante des Scènes d’enfant de Schumann qui ouvraient le récital : chaque mesure, chaque note de l’œuvre irradiaient comme la caresse d’un père (ou d’un grand-père, statut social récemment atteint par l’auteur de ces lignes) à son enfant aimé, l’atmosphère étant, à mon avis, autant baignée de l’amour profond voué par les vieilles générations aux plus jeunes que de la contemplation par la jeune génération de sa propre innocence. En en venant au côté délicat de l’affaire - c’est-à-dire : par quels moyens ce résultat est-il obtenu ? - on ne peut qu’être admiratif devant l’énorme quantité de réflexion sans cesse répétée (et renouvelée !) à propos, par exemple, du choix toujours pertinent d’un tempo giusto (c’est-à-dire, à mon avis, jamais trop rapide), à propos du choix mûrement réfléchi des endroits les plus appropriés à un jeu rubato ainsi que l’exacte étendue de ce dernier, à propos de l’utilisation parfaitement pesée de chaque main, de chaque doigt dans les passages où la polyphonie prend de l’importance, à propos de la retenue volontaire de la nuance générale en deçà du forte, utilisant ainsi ce qui reste, de nos jours, la palette sonore la plus subtile qu’on puisse entendre, à propos, enfin, de la possibilité offerte à l’auditeur de respirer en accord avec l’histoire que lui conte la musique. Ce sont là quelques-unes des nombreuses raisons qui ont rendu l’auteur de ces lignes si heureux de rester suspendu à chaque note de l’œuvre d’un compositeur qui, par ailleurs, ne fait pas toujours partie de son panthéon le plus restreint.

Quelques aficionados du côté « lion » de Beethoven ont pu être surpris avec l’Appassionata qui allait suivre - ceci au cas où ils s’attendaient à ce que le côté rugueux ou occasionnellement violent de Beethoven soit mis en avant de préférence à (ou au lieu de) tout autre aspect de l’œuvre. Il est vrai que, en cette occasion comme en toute autre où j’ai eu l’occasion d’entendre cette œuvre en concert, Moravec n’a pas choisi d’accentuer de manière excessive le côté rugueux de bien des pages de cette musique : le son, surtout, restait toujours quelque peu retenu (même dans les passages fortissimo les plus entraînants), mais néanmoins riche, rond, moelleux, n’autorisant jamais l’instrument à sonner de manière percussive, ne perdant jamais le contact avec un phrasé legato (même dans des passages où la pédale forte n’était pas utilisée). Le côté remarquable de tout cela est que la beauté d’ensemble du son n’a jamais débouché sur une interprétation indolente ou manquant de vie : les mouvements rapides ont toujours été joués avec l’énergie la plus entraînante, le mouvement lent s’est développé d’une manière implacable, avec peu de changements importants de tempo - une certaine forme d’exécution « métronomique » produisant le plus d’effet quand elle est utilisée occasionnellement seulement comme l’une des dizaines d’autres possibilités de façonner le temps. C’est sans doute l’une des raisons pour lesquelles j’ai constamment éprouvé cette sensation, reconnaissable entre mille et si rarement éprouvée, d’une marche en avant inéluctable menant du tout début jusqu’aux derniers accords de la sonate… En un mot, du grand Beethoven : l’œuvre d’une vie !

Revenant à la « contribution à l’histoire de l’interprétation pianistique », Debussy et Chopin constituent peut-être, à mon avis, les deux sommets de l’art d’Ivan Moravec ou, tout au moins, deux de ses si nombreuses réussites dont tout mélomane se doit de profiter et tout pianiste, jeune ou moins jeune, de tirer des leçons. L’interprétation de Debussy par Moravec (cette fois, Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l’air du soir et Children’s Corner) offre toujours le son pianistique le plus raffiné qu’il puisse être donné d’entendre de nos jours ; chaque note, chaque accord, chaque ligne, quel qu’en soit le niveau sonore, sont pesés avec tant de soin en eux-mêmes ou en relation avec les autres que chaque pièce résonne dans une nuance toute delicatissimamente, flottant de la manière la plus délicieuse dans la tête de l’auditeur bien après le concert. L’énorme quantité de travail pour ainsi dire artisanal qui a de toute évidence été nécessaire dans cet aspect particulier du jeu pianistique permet au pianiste d’offrir le Debussy le plus expressif - et, d’ailleurs, le plus logiquement construit - sans avoir à faire appel à de quelconques changements de tempo de style « romantique » (style qui, plus d’une fois, s’est révélé inefficace chez ce compositeur s’il est adopté de manière trop intrusive - à ce sujet, voir par exemple l’enregistrement des Préludes, beau mais quelque peu « hors style », de Krystian Zimerman). Avec une palette de couleurs si riche à sa disposition, le pianiste peut se permettre de jouer chaque pièce in tempo (non pas strictement in tempo, évidemment) et néanmoins donner de cette musique l’image la plus vive, d’une manière assez proche (si toutefois la comparaison ne paraît pas tirée par les cheveux) de Leopold Stokowski dirigeant Debussy dans ses meilleurs jours. Peut-être, après tout, n’est-ce pas par hasard que la toute première phrase que l’auteur de ces lignes a entendue de la bouche d’Ivan Moravec a été, il y a quelque trente-cinq ans : « Le toucher constitue une part importante de la technique du piano » !

Au rayon des aspects remarquables de ce récital, on citera aussi la capacité de l’artiste de sauter d’une atmosphère intimiste à une atmosphère plus extravertie à l’intérieur même de la seconde partie du concert : après Debussy, Chopin (Troisième Ballade en la bémol majeur op. 47 et Première Ballade en sol mineur op. 23) a en effet offert au public tour à tour les aspects les plus lyriques et les plus héroïques. Ici, le pianiste n’y est pas allé par quatre chemins pour tirer parti des moyens jugés les plus démodés à notre époque afin de donner vie à la musique : superbe legato cantabile dans de longues lignes chantantes, larges respirations dans les transitions, grands changements de tempo tant pour ce qui est, quand c’est nécessaire, d’assigner à diverses sections le tempo qui leur convient que dans l’utilisation pertinente de divers degrés de ritenuto ou d’accelerando aussi bien dans les détails que dans les structures plus vastes, son riche mais jamais percussif dans les passages les plus virtuoses, souci constant de la place de chaque détail dans l’ensemble, capacité confondante à conserver, pour lui-même et pour l’auditeur, une conscience nette de l’architecture d’ensemble de chaque pièce… Cette liste n’est en aucun cas exhaustive, chaque mélomane restant évidemment libre de chérir en son cœur ce qu’il (ou elle) apprécie le plus venant, comme l’ont dit abusivement tant de critiques à propos de tant d’interprètes, du « plus grand de tous »…

Berlioz a un jour écrit à propos de son amie et pianiste Camille Moke : «  Elle n’a pas du talent, mais du génie, et crée comme l’auteur fit en composant. » Voilà, en quelques mots, la leçon donnée (avec modestie mais conviction - ou : avec conviction mais modestie) aux quelques heureux auditeurs qui ont eu l’occasion, ou l’envie, d’assister à un concert au sujet duquel Lenz, élève de Liszt et de Chopin, aurait pu dire, comme il l’a fait après avoir entendu le jeune Filtsch jouer le Concerto pour piano en mi mineur, accompagné par Chopin en personne au second piano : « L’ensemble vous laissait une impression pour la vie .»

P.S. Ces commentaires pourraient paraître, surtout aux yeux du nouveau venu sur le site d’Ivan Moravec, quelque peu tendancieux sinon carrément hagiographiques… Bah, pourquoi le cacher ? Ils le sont en effet, et à juste titre !

Writing about Ivan Moravec's art represents quite a challenge for anyone who is fully aware of the greatness of his contribution to the history of piano playing and, more generally speaking, to the survival of an otherwise almost completely lost tradition of music making. That proves true once more when one aims to capture but only the most important features of his last recital, given in Prague on last October 10th.

Listening to Ivan Moravec playing in the Dvořák Hall of the Prague Rudolfinum always has been, and still is, a very special experience for the writer of these few comments; if a comparison driven from the sports world may prove relevant in such a case, it has something in common with watching a football team playing “at home”: the hall is usually crowded with family relatives, close friends, past and present pupils and, last but not least, with a good deal of people who know who Moravec really is. An atmosphere of deep humanity radiates as well from the person and the music of the artist as, in turn, from the public gathered to celebrate an all too rare event—including, shamefully enough, the whole of Europe for several months to come !

Deep humanity: this perhaps is the most striking feature of Schumann’s Kinderszenen which opened the recital; every bar, every note of the work shined like the caress of a father (or grandfather, this being the new social status recently achieved by the present writer) to a beloved child, the atmosphere being, in my opinion, as much suffused with deep love from older generations towards the younger ones as with the younger generation’s contemplation of its own innocence. Coming to the tricky side of it — that is: by what means is this result achieved ? — one cannot but be amazed by the enormous amount of thinking again and again (and in new ways !) about, for example, always choosing a tempo giusto (that is, in my view, never too fast), about carefully deciding the right places for rubato and the exact amount of it, about assigning to each hand and each finger the exact weight they need when polyphony is brought forward, about never pushing the overall dynamics towards the forte side of it, thus using what is nowadays the widest available palette of subtle shadings in piano sound, about, in short, giving the listener, in each of the so many poetic moments of the work, the time to breathe in accordance with the story told by the music. Those are some of the many reasons that made the writer so happy to hang upon every note of a work by a composer which otherwise does not always belong to his closer personal pantheon.

Some aficionados of the “lion” side of Beethoven may have been surprised with the Appassionata which was to follow — that is if they expected the rough or occasionally violent side of Beethoven to be brought out before, or instead of, any other aspect of the work. It is true that, on this occasion like on every other occasion I had to hear this piece in concert before, Moravec did not choose to overemphasize the rough side of many pages of this music: the tone, above all, always remained somewhat restrained (even in the most driving fortissimo passages), but nonetheless rich and round and mellow, never allowing the instrument to sound percussive, never losing the contact with legato phrasing (even in passages where the right pedal was not used). The remarkable side of it is that this beautiful overall tone did never make the music sound indolent or lifeless: the fast movements were always played with the most compelling energy, the slow movement developed in an implacable way, with minor changes in tempo—some kind of “metronomic” playing being most effective when used only occasionally as one among the dozens of other possibilities of shaping time. This is probably one of the reasons why I constantly had that unmistakable and so seldom to be experienced feeling of an inescapable growing towards the last chords from the very beginning of the sonata... In one word, great Beethoven: a life’s achievement !

Speaking of contributions to the history of piano playing, Debussy and Chopin perhaps are, in my opinion, the two peaks of Ivan Moravec’s art, or at least, more accurately speaking, two of his so many achievements to be enjoyed by any music lover and, more specifically, to be learnt from by young as well as less young pianists. Moravec’s Debussy renderings (this time Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l’air du soir and Children’s Corner) always offer the most refined piano sound one can hear nowadays; every note, every chord, every line, whatever the actual sound level, are so carefully weighted either per se or in relation to the others that each piece sounds in a definitely delicatissimamente character, deliciously lingering in the head of the listener well after the concert. The enormous amount of craftmanship one senses has been necessary about this particular side of piano playing enables the pianist to offer the most expressive—and, by the way, most logically built—Debussy without having to appeal to tempo changes in a “romantic” way (a way that more than once proved ineffective with this composer if used too prominently—see, for example, the beautiful but somewhat out of tune Préludes recording with Krystian Zimerman). With so many tone colours at his disposal, the pianist can play each piece in tempo (not strictly in tempo, of course) and yet give the most vivid picture of this music, much like (if the comparison does not seem too far fetched here) Leopold Stokowski used to conduct Debussy at his best moments. Perhaps, after all, was it not by pure chance that the very first sentence the writer of these lines heard coming live from Ivan Moravec’s mouth about thirty-five years ago was: “Touch is an important part of piano technique” !

Remarkable is also the ability of the artist to jump from an intimate atmosphere to a more extrovert one, right in the middle of the second part of the concert: after Debussy, Chopin (Third Ballade in A flat major op. 47 and First Ballade in G minor op. 23) indeed offered in turn the most lyrical and the most heroic playing. Here the pianist made no bones about using every currently out-of-fashion means to bring the music to life: magnificent legato cantabile in long singing lines, broad breathing in transitions, big changes in tempo as well in assigning various sections a different tempo when necessary as in making pertinent use of various degrees of ritenuto or accelerando both at local and general level, rich but never percussive sound in the most virtuoso passages, constant care of how to set each detail into broader frames, astounding ability to keep constantly himself and the listener aware of an overall view of the performed piece... The list is by no means exhaustive, every music lover being of course free to treasure in his heart what he or she most cherishes coming from, as so many critics abusively use to say about so many performers, “the greatest of all”...

Berlioz once wrote about his friend pianist Camille Moke: “She has not only talent, but genius, and creates just like the author did while composing.” This was, in a few words, the lesson taught (with modesty but with conviction—or, with conviction but with modesty), to the happy few able, or willing, to attend a concert about which Lenz, a pupil of Liszt and Chopin, could have said, as he did after listening to young Filtsch playing the Piano Concerto in E minor, accompanied by Chopin himself at the second piano: “The whole left you an impression for the rest of your life.”

P.S. These “liner notes” could seem, especially to the newcomer to Ivan Moravec’s website, a little bit biased if not definitely hagiographic... Well, why try to hide it ? They are indeed, and with good reason !

Ivan Moravec is a musician’s musician, representing a glorious heritage of illustrious pianists. His recital at the Folly Theater Friday night, presented by the Friends of Chamber Music, displayed the artist’s musical eloquence and subtlety.

While some pianists dazzle their audience with flashy theatrics, Moravec proved himself a humble man with a no-frills approach that allowed the composers’ music to shine.

The recital opened with two selections from “Along an Overgrown Path,” by Czech composer Leoš Janáček. “A Blown-Away Leaf” was folklike in its simplicity and lyrical in its content. “Good Night!” featured an attractive melody over an occasionally quirky harmony.

Janáček’s four-movement “In the Mists” was a more substantial work, featuring wisps of impressionism, romantic fervor, and piquant lyricism tinged with sadness.

Moravec employed a full-blooded tone and blocklike sonorities in the work, particularly in the final two movements.

Debussy’s music is known for its musical colors, and Moravec employed an ample palette in the three-movement “Suite: Pour le piano.”

The opening “Prelude” featured a subtle sense of musical architecture throughout the rapid passages that permeated the piece. The “Sarabande” was breathtaking in its simplicity and beauty.

The final “Toccata” was also highly impressive. Technical proficiency was displayed with myriad difficult runs, but the performer’s musicality was ever present in the sensitive tempo changes. Also noteworthy was the way he voiced his chords, bringing out individual notes.

More Debussy followed with the “Children’s Corner Suite.” Again, Moravec’s colors were astounding: dark polished ones in “Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum” and bright ones in “The Snow is Dancing.” The relaxed tempos in “Golliwogg’s Cakewalk” helped highlight the music’s humor and charm.

Chopin’s “Ballade No. 4 in F Minor” utilized elegant playing, thicker textures and a broader range of emotion than found earlier in the recital. The program ended with Chopin’s “Ballade No. 1 in G Minor.” Moravec presented the sweeping right-hand theme was taken with occasional liberties in tempo, leaving listeners at the edge of their seats.

If there was one drawback to the evening, it would have to be the abundance of elegant music. Moravec addressed that to some extent by playing a bright, playful “Presto” from a Piano Sonata by Franz Joseph Haydn.

© 2009 Kansas City Star and wire service sources. All Rights Reserved. http://www.kansascity.com

	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

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 at denverpost dot 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.