The Horse Paid. Big.





Lee Luvisi


When Lee Luvisi plays piano, the words "elegant," "exquisite" and "patrician" leap to mind. "Thoroughbred" should too, because none of Mr. Luvisi's accomplishments -- youngest faculty member in the history of the Curtis Institute... nationally sought-after soloist... Artist Member of the Chamber Music Society for 15 years -- would have happened but for an afternoon 50 years ago when his father placed a generous bet on a longshot at Churchill Downs, took his winnings to a piano emporium and walked away the owner of a Baldwin concert grand. Lee Luvisi has appeared with nearly every important North American orchestra under such conductors as Bernstein, Marriner, Ormandy, Shaw and Steinberg. He has also collaborated with the Cleveland, Emerson, Guarneri and Juilliard Quartets. An Artist in Residence at the University of Louisville for 36 years, he longs for audience members to talk to musicians backstage following performances to get to know one another. Mr. Luvisi married the girl next door; their son is a cardiology technician in Cleveland. The week before Mr. Luvisi made these comments, he and his wife were obliged to retreat to their basement to wait out a Louisville tornado. "So, like a fool," he said, "last night I went to see Twister. Now I'll be running to the basement every time the wind blows!"

"I can't say I chose the piano, nor did the piano choose me; some dumb horse made the decision for both of us. My father took his racetrack winnings and bought me a Baldwin concert grand, which still sits in my living room. When it became evident by age 12 that I was really serious about music he bought me a Steinway B that I've used the rest of my life.

"My father was an amateur singer and an ardent admirer of the great Irish tenor John McCormack; the sound of McCormack's recordings never left me. Everything I feel I know about color and sound and phrasing I owe not to any pianist but to McCormack. He was beloved in this country in the years before the war. He mostly sang Irish ballads, investing them with so much beauty and sensitivity that they became masterpieces. Robert White's voice is an absolute replica of McCormack's. We did a couple of concerts together recently and in one of our rehearsals we doodled around on some Irish songs on the stage of Tully Hall, having a ball. I've had one unfulfilled dream as a musician for many years: to abandon the role of soloist and chamber music player just once and be the accompanist to an Irish tenor singing those beautiful ballads -- When Irish Eyes are Smiling, Mother McCree, Macushla. I still get a tear in my eye when I hear some of them.

"I can't say I chose the piano, nor did the piano choose me; some dumb horse made the decision for both of us." "I worked with Jan DeGaetani for many summers at the Aspen Festival. Even though she's gone now she remains the greatest artist I was ever privileged to work with. There was something very special about her that will never leave me. The happiest moments I ever had on the stage were with her.

"I love Strauss's Four Last Songs more than just about anything. I played the piano part of them once at a memorial service for a colleague in Louisville; I don't think I was ever so moved by a performance as being able to play those songs. It's in our wills that instead of a funeral service we want to have the songs played, and I save an unopened Schwarzkopf recording for that.

"I had three of the finest teachers one could have. Dwight Anderson had been a student of Isidor Philipp, who'd been a student of Fauré. He was a very severe, strong-willed man whom I rather feared when I studied with him, but who gave me a foundation no one else could have. At Curtis I had Serkin and Horszowski, who were both magnificent artists. Horszowski had known Fauré also. Fauré's been a love of my life along with Mozart and Schubert. I've adored his music ever since I first became acquainted with it and it grows on me more and more as I get older.

"I love Strauss's Four Last Songs more than just about anything." "I don't think of myself as a pianist; the word is slightly alien to my being. I teach orchestrally, vocally or in string terms; I rarely ever refer to anything in strictly piano terms. 'Pianist' denotes to me somebody who's finger-conscious, showing off and impressing by playing etudes; that's never been part of my musical persona. So much performance today is a kind of high-powered, super-energized way of making music... there's a tendency toward tempi that are a little bit too fast, too driven. My musical heart is from a day when more time was taken with music, things weren't pushed quite so much; time was taken to enjoy it.

"I've been called an 'elegant' player; it's a word that means a lot to me and I'm flattered when it's associated with my own playing. Elegance is an important component to a great deal of music; Mozart is the most elegant of all composers. I'm never happier than when I'm playing Mozart concerti. They're the most perfect, beautiful of all; even the least of them are gems. I love a couple of violin concerti as much: Brahms and Beethoven.

"The great composers who also happened to be great pianists wrote beautifully for the instrument. Mozart is always gratifying to play. Mendelssohn probably composed the most comfortable piano music, Chopin too. Brahms at his best was a wonderful writer for the piano. Debussy and Prokofiev, who were themselves outstanding pianists, wrote very gratifyingly for the piano.

"Robert Shaw is a saint. I loved working with him more than any conductor I've ever played with. I had known about him since I was a young kid; I never dreamed I would have the chance of making music with him. One day 25 years ago I got a call to judge a piano competition in Atlanta; Robert Shaw would join us as a judge for the second round. I couldn't wait! Came the appointed hour, Shaw strode in, shook my hand and said, 'Well, I understand you're the world's greatest pianist, what do you want to play with me next year?' I played four performances of the Brahms Second Concerto with him the next year. He could not have been any kinder or warmer; we became very close friends.

"A black lady had tears streaming down her face, grieving over the death
of the president..."
"During the Mozart Bicentennial I gave a series of eight concerts of his complete keyboard works. It was a certain mountaintop to climb. Every once in a while I challenge myself to do something out of the ordinary. A musician without dreams is a musician without anywhere to go.

"The house we live in -- which we've lived in for 35 years -- is the house my wife grew up in, next door to the house I grew up in. We've known each other for 51 of our 58 years. We live in what used to be a rock quarry, and we have a lovely yard in the back with a 35-foot high solid rock cliff, at the base of which my wife has the most beautiful wildflower garden. I love to spend time in the garden; sometimes I'll go into the woods on our property, dig up wildflowers and transplant them into the yard. We built a beautiful studio about eight years ago; it looks out the picture window to the gardens.

"I played a recital at Carnegie Hall the night before JFK died. I was over at Steinway's offices at 57th Street; I know the exact spot where I was standing when the word came over the radio that he had been shot. I went back to the old Sheraton Hotel across the street from Carnegie. The elevator was operated by a black lady who had tears streaming down her face, grieving over the death of the president. I don't know why with all the other sorrow that day, her appearance affected me as deeply as it did, but I never forgot the look on her face.

"I'm very proud to be a member of this organization. I dreamed of it for a number of years before I was asked. Solo pianists are loners; we travel by ourselves, stay in hotels alone, eat alone. I enjoyed playing chamber music because it was an opportunity for companionship and sharing mutual interests. I wanted very much to be part of a musical family, a group of like-minded musicians on a very high level with whom I could make chamber music on a regular basis. Then Charlie Wadsworth called one day and said, 'Would you like to join us?' A string quartet votes in its own members; most smaller chamber music organizations elect replacement members. Here we have a music director who makes those decisions. Right now the compatibility amongst the membership is greater than it ever has been.

"We just came off a tour on which we played 13 nights in succession, traveling every day. Tully Hall, University of Maryland, Calgary, Vancouver, Stanford, Boulder, Los Alamos, San Diego, etc. I woke up one morning, opened my eyes and thought, Oh dear God, where am I? I know I'm on tour with the Chamber Music Society but where in the hell am I? I looked out the window and there was a Canadian flag flying from the building. Ah! I'm in Canada! Now... where in Canada?!"



Ideal person to have dinner with tonight:

"My wife's my best friend, and I'd be just as happy having dinner with her as anyone."



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