Musician Vojtěch Havel died on Monday evening at the age of sixty-two. The news was brought by musician Petr Ostrouchov.
Havel worked on stage together with his partner Irena for more than forty years. Their music was difficult to describe – it needed no other language than that offered by musical instruments – from the exotic (like Tibetan bowls) to the piano and cello. Perhaps that is why she so easily made her way directly to the listeners, on whom she impressed with her fragile charm and unique calmness – which, after all, also radiated from the performers themselves.
“The last time I saw Vojtěch Havel play was at the Folková Lipnice festival in mid-September. It is said that he himself promised the organizers that he would play there without the right to a fee, in memory of Oldřich Janota,” recalls the musician Tadeáš Polák from the band Northern Platform. “He was as always incredibly calm. I really appreciate the fact that I found him as an active creator.”
Festival organizer Rostislav Šíma also added a memory of Havel’s performance at this year’s renewed Folková Lipnica. “He came to us by train after a twelve-hour complicated journey from Slovakia, through flooded Moravia, which is why he ended the Saturday program. He did not give up and did not withdraw. When the concert started, no one in the audience even made a sound. Everyone on mats and benches in a very special moment. In meditation.’
Šíma writes about the music of the Havel couple as an art that did not need words or voice. “I have never felt grip and lightness in one. Their procedures and creation spoke for them. Absolutely apt, harrowing, urgent and hard to replace, as well as their human approach, actions, humility and modesty.
The Havel couple’s instrumental compositions were inspired across genres, cultures and time. They started in the mid-eighties in the experimental formation Capella Antiqua e Moderna, in which they explored the musical heritage from the Renaissance to the present. Later, they again searched for musical practices from, for example, Asian cultures. They also made four films about their travels in India.
It was easy for Irena and Vojtěch Havel to get into film music. They collaborated on feature films, but also on short films and documentaries. They won the Czech Lion for their work on Václav Kadrnka’s award-winning historical film Křižáček (2017), and they also created the music for Kadrnka’s next film, Report on the Rescue of the Dead (2022). Originally, the Havels were only supposed to spend a few minutes on this, then the brief collaboration turned into a several-year project. “Vašek even used some of that music during filming, when he played it for the actors and crew for the atmosphere,” recalled Vojtěch Havel in an interview with music publicist Pavle Klusák in the ArtCafé show.
Director Václav Kadrnka described the music of the Havels in the same program. “What always attracted me to that music was how inward it is. It’s about movement, but some kind of inner movement.”
The music of Irena and Vojtěch Havel was minimalist, but original and unique. “For me, they were unique in that they did things completely their own way in music,” explains Tadeáš Polák. “At concerts, they took turns at the instruments, complemented each other and seemed to connect with each other through the music.”
Polák also explains the paradox of calm that the Havels radiated personally and through their playing: “During their concerts, one experienced an awful lot of different emotions in one’s head. Perhaps their music was a soundtrack to daydreaming and encouraging introspection.”
In Memory of Vojtěch Havel: A Soundtrack to Introspection
Well, folks, it seems we’ve lost a luminary in the world of sound, and before you ask, no, I’m not talking about your last family holiday video. The talented Vojtěch Havel passed away on a rather unremarkable Monday evening at the tender age of sixty-two. Let’s be honest, he may be gone, but judging by his impact, his legacy will resonate for decades to come—longer than your last relationship.
A Unique Musical Journey
Havel, alongside his partner Irena, was not your run-of-the-mill musician. They thrived for over forty years in a realm where words played the supporting role and melodies took center stage—like a well-planned heist where music was the mastermind. Their sound was like an exotic buffet; you had everything from Tibetan bowls to a refined piano and cello serenading your ears. If you’re not sure how that sounds, just think of a soothing spa day, only instead of cucumbers on your eyes, you’ve got delicate notes washing over your soul.
Take a moment to reflect on what it means to create art that evokes such powerful emotions—without saying a word. That’s a talent few possess, much like the ability to juggle and not accidentally drop everything. As the musician Tadeáš Polák reminisced about Havel’s performance at the Folková Lipnice festival, it’s clear that even in his final days, he was dedicated to the craft. Who else would travel twelve hours by train, through flooded lands, just to share his art? That’s commitment. Most of us wouldn’t even walk across the street for a good cup of coffee!
Celebrating the Calm
Festival organizer Rostislav Šíma noted something magical about Havel’s concerts: a complete silence enveloped the audience, akin to a group of Zen masters meditating—if only our family gatherings were that peaceful! When they played, everyone seemed to enter a trance, suspended in shared introspection. If you can make a crowd sit in total silence while drones of uncertainty swirl in their minds, you’ve truly nailed the art of distraction.
A Cross-Cultural Exploration
Starting in the mid-eighties with the experimental group Capella Antiqua e Moderna, the Havels dove into a soup of cultural influences that boiled over into stunning compositions. They weren’t afraid to dabble in a bit of everything—from Renaissance tunes to Asian inspirations. They even made a few films about their travels to India, because, you know, why not add a sprinkle of Bollywood to your artistic repertoire?
And anyone who can score a Czech Lion for their film music deserves a standing ovation—and perhaps a Netflix deal while they’re at it! Their outstanding contributions to films like Křižáček and Report on the Rescue of the Dead serve as reminders of how impactful music can be, connecting us in moments of fleeting beauty.
Reflections and Continued Legacy
As we bid farewell to Vojtěch Havel, it’s worth considering the paradox he and his partner created through their music: a calmness that allowed chaos to bloom in the minds of their listeners. They performed not just for applause but for awakening, not just to entertain but to provoke thought—like a clever stand-up routine where the punchline is self-discovery.
So, let’s raise a glass, or, if you must, a Tibetan bowl, in memory of Vojtěch Havel. His music was not merely to be heard but to be felt. Here’s hoping we can all take a page from his stunning repertoire—less talk, more connection, and a sprinkle of humility.
Cheers to you, Vojtěch! May your compositions echo long after the last note has faded.
