Ivan Moravec
   Debussy & Chopin

* Debussy:
   - Images, Books 1 & 2
   - Prelude (Book I, No. 6)
   - Estampes
* Chopin:
   - Mazurka in f, op. 63/2
   - Mazurka in a, op. 68/2
   - Mazurka in B-flat, op. 7/1
   - Mazurka in c#, op. 30/4
   - Mazurka in b, op. 33/4
   - Waltz in a, op. 34/2
   - Waltz in c#, op. 64/2
   - Waltz in e, op. posth.
   - Polonaise in c#, op. 26/1
   - Polonaise Fantaisie in A-flat, op. 61

Ivan Moravec (piano)
Vox CDX5103 Total time: 43:52 + 50:43

Summary for the Busy Executive: Fantastic, in many senses of the word.

With the Pierian label's release of Debussy playing his own piano
music (which I will review in more detail in the weeks to come), we
have a significant point of reference with which to compare other Debussy
interpreters.  Musicians have long recognized Ivan Moravec as a pianist
who seems to channel the composers he plays.  Unlike many virtuosos,
especially these days, Moravec's pianism is never the end of his
performances.  Although what he does, similar in so many ways to what
Tureck does with Bach, requires a great technique, we seldom exclaim,
"What a pianist!" - rather, "What a composer!" Moravec keeps the spotlight
on the creator instead of on himself.  Only after you hear Moravec does
your analytic engine kick in.  At that point, you realize you've heard
a pianist not only with a complete command of color and touch, but with
a formidable sense of harmonic function (and therefore architecture) and
the ability to bring out any line at any time as well.  Furthermore,
Moravec builds very long musical paragraphs.  With him as guide, composers
never sound "disjointed," not even those of great mood shifts, like
Debussy and Chopin, which, of course, brings me to the present album.

Debussy admired Chopin (he produced an edition of Chopin's piano works)
and, I suspect, modeled his own very harmonically-different music on the
older composer.  Common to both are the telling harmonic "switch," the
quick mood shifts, the love of the exotic, and, in places, the breakup
of tonality.  When we hear Debussy himself at the keyboard, we come away
with the sensation of an intense self-communion, almost as if the composer
doesn't care whether you hear him or not.  Debussy achieves this through
what most people would consider weak pianism (although I'd argue that
Debussy deliberately chooses not to conform to the standard), and certainly
Moravec doesn't go that far.  Nevertheless, Moravec brings off the
looking-inward.  The Prelude "Des pas sur la neige" ("Footsteps in the
snow") is a case in point.  Many pianists oversell the intensity of it,
turning its insistence on the opening figure into obsession.  Moravec
is plenty intense, but with an aristocratic distance - to paraphrase
Wordsworth, a contemplation of the scene in tranquility.  He never loses
interest, and he never pushes.  Furthermore, throughout the recital,
Moravec lovingly shapes musical lines through an absolute control over
dynamic and hesitation.  You never know when he's going to tap the brakes,
ever so gently, and you can't predict how the line will turn out.  From
what I gather, Moravec intellectually analyzes works more than most, but
while he's playing, you believe the illusion of spontaneity.

The two books of Images open up a new sound-world for the piano, just
as the symphonic work of the same title did for the orchestra.  Again,
Moravec stresses the ruminative quality of much of this music, although
in the vigorous final "Mouvement" of Book 1, he lets you know Debussy
isn't all moonbeams and lily ponds.  "Bells through the leaves" of Book
2 is outstanding in the layers of activity Moravec can create.  You
really do hear one level of sound "behind" another, and yet everything
is clear.  Listening to Moravec's readings, I was struck by how often
Debussy turned to bell-like sonorities in his piano music.  Certainly,
there's nothing explicitly tolling in "Footsteps in the snow," and yet
how often the ping of a bell accents the main musical line.  In "Poissons
d'or" ("Goldfish") from Book 2, you not only seem to see the creatures
shaking their tails, but hear the bell-like splash of water.  Furthermore,
Moravec doesn't give you something too precious, but plays up the darker
subtext of the piece.

The three-part Estampes ("Prints") counts as one of my favorite Debussy
collections.  For two of the three movements, Debussy longs for foreign
lands.  "Pagodes" evokes the Far East - Siam, Java, and Bali.  Bells of
all different kinds - deep tollers, high ringers and pingers, rows of
chimes - are all over this piece as is, to some extent, the sound of
gamelan.  Moravec plays gorgeously.  It's not an easy work to shape, but
Moravec gently moves you along and reaches a powerful climax.  You're
not quite sure how you got there, but it remains genuine.  "Soiree dans
Grenade" is one of those "Spanish" pieces Falla so admired and learned
from.  Many pianists find the piece an occasion to strut, but not Moravec,
who takes the role of distant observer, who picks out the sounds from
the night air.  "Jardins sous la pluie" ("Gardens in the rain") has
always seemed to me less descriptive than its title suggests.  For me,
it celebrates fleet movement, just as "Mouvement" from the first book
of Images does.  Here, Moravec gives you the energy without the all-too-usual
hysteria.

Those who really know Chopin (and I'm by no means one of them) admire
Moravec's accounts.  No argument from me.  Like Rubinstein, Moravec seems
to be "just playing," and yet each reading is incredibly detailed.
I also find in Moravec's Chopin a depth of feeling I miss in others'.
The recital consists of essentially triple-time dance music - mazurkas,
waltzes, and polonaises - although you might find it difficult to trip
the light fantastic to any of this.  Moravec manages to suggest dance
without actually reproducing it.  I knew I was in for something special
with the opening chord of the f-minor mazurka.  There was a moment of
hesitation where you thought the ground might collapse under you, but
Moravec filled in the rest of the texture at what seemed the very last
moment and at precisely the right dynamic.  Again, elegant meditation
is the dominant note, but it's not the only one, as the playful B-flat
mazurka and the virile middle section of the a-minor prove.  I especially
love the way Moravec conveys the humor of the "wrong-note" unresolved
appoggiaturas in the melodic line of the B-flat and the almost-Asian
exoticism of its middle.  The c#-minor reminds me a bit of Horowitz
in its restraint.  However, where Horowitz gives you mainly patrician
elegance, Moravec seems to give you the lagniappe of something deeply
felt as well, without wallowing in it.  In the b-minor, Moravec's left
hand shows itself the equal partner of the right, without having to
shove.  The two hands trade the spotlight in an equal call-and-response.
Moravec also conveys a near-orchestral spectrum of color.  At least,
listening to his account, a composer would probably know how to go about
orchestrating the work.  The waltzes stand among my least favorite Chopin
pieces.  To me, "salon music" is a pejorative term. Even though Chopin's
stand superior to the Thalberg's and the Chaminade's, etc., to me they
are too suave by half, even the famous one in c#-minor - Chopin on
automatic or pure manner, as it were.  For me, Moravec's achievement
here lies in making me appreciate Chopin's craftsmanship, and even
occasional flashes of real poetry.

The two polonaises pose Moravec's great test.  Together over twenty
minutes worth of music, they run the longest on the entire recital.
Furthermore, this is Chopin at his most capricious, his most willing to
turn down this or that bypath and still wind up at the same terminus as
the main road.  In the Fantaisie-Polonaise especially, the polonaise has
almost disappeared, except by occasional reminders of its characteristic
rhythm.  Most obviously here Chopin moves through dance to near-pure
meditation.  Moravec not only holds everything together, he makes the
journey exciting.  Even if you know these pieces, I can practically
guarantee the Moravec will surprise you not only with the individuality
of his choice, but with its "justice."

The disc comes from the early Eighties, when Moravec was a mere yonker
of 50-something.  The sound nevertheless doesn't fall into the "dead
people playing music in a perfectly sterile room" so characteristic of
the early digital era.  A superior set.

Steve Schwartz