It was by any measure a distinctive evening. The house was packed — not an unusual occurrence when a visiting orchestra or stellar soloist is in town, but rarely the case for a jazz concert, and in this case just a single performer. Mehldau walked on stage by himself, sat down at the Steinway, and banged away for two and a half hours without a note of accompaniment, other than the ringing applause after every selection.

The current wunderkind of American jazz, Mehldau is a technically fluid and endlessly inventive musician who takes apart, reconstructs and improvises on familiar songs with such verve and originality that they're often nearly over before you recognize them. On Sunday, his covers ranged from Radiohead to the Beatles, Paul Simon to Rodgers & Hammerstein, played in a style that moved effortlessly from a caressing whisper to locomotive drive. By the end of the concert, it was clear that Mehldau can do more with one hand than many pianists can do with two.

The audience responded with uncommon enthusiasm, even by Prague standards, drawing Mehldau back onstage for a stunning six encores.

It was a great evening's entertainment and another success for the Strings of Autumn festival, one of the brightest lights of the fall season. But for American expats, it was also a reminder of the face of the homeland that foreigners seldom see. Beyond the war-mongering and gas-guzzling, the hostile security presence, the never-ending visa problems and inescapable global commercialism, there's a generous and cultured land that rarely gets put on display the way that, for example, the French Institute and Goethe Institute showcase their countries.

"We used to do it," notes Michael Hahn, the public affairs officer at the U.S. Embassy who works with the cultural community. "There used to be money available through the State Department for cultural programs. But those days are long gone."

Granted, it's a different world, but the dearth of cultural programming also reflects a different set of priorities — and in some ways a vexing situation.

"Would we be adding insult to injury?" Hahn asks, noting that the United States already stands accused of cultural imperialism for the ubiquitous popularity of its movies, music, jeans, cigarettes ... the list is long and, for the most part, not representative of the best of American culture. Given that and virtually no budget, the embassy's posture here is to let local promoters find and book interesting American artists, then lend what financial and material assistance it can.

To be fair, countries like Germany and France enjoy distinct advantages over the States — namely government ministries that package highbrow productions and send them on tour. And the U.S. Embassy in Prague constantly supports artists and programming without any fanfare. It helped bring Herbie Hancock to Prague Spring earlier this year, for example, and offers continuing assistance to people like Paul Freeman, the American orchestra conductor who regularly appears at the podium with the Czech National Symphony Orchestra.

Still, there are moments like Sunday night that do more to generate goodwill than a year's worth of public announcements and private cocktail parties. "I was amazed at how Mehldau enthralled the audience," Hahn says, reflecting the reaction of many Americans at the concert — though he adds wistfully, "My only regret is that he didn't talk."

It's true. Mehldau is a workmanlike performer, perfunctory with his bows and acknowledgements, never addressing the audience, focusing his attention and energy entirely on the music.