Three years before his death in 1791, Mozart embraced a renewed zest for writing symphonies in the summer of 1788. Two years before, his successful Prague Symphony Number 38, forecast  possible changes in its expanded drama, highly contrasting dynamics,  change of standard symphony form (no minuet) and textural contrasts (more polyphony).  Martin Bookspan explained in 101 Masterpieces of Music and their Composers,  “he had an inner compulsion to create—a matter of personal expression without regard to the demands of patrons or public. That motivation goes far to explain their extraordinary scope and striking ingenuity which surely would have been lost on audiences of that time.”

Mozart’s energetic focus produced his three last symphonies, 39, 40 and 41, on June 26, July 25 and August 10. This trilogy stands apart from his previous symphonic repertoire in innovation, emotion, increased dissonance, and profound content. How did he do it?  On June 1788, he wrote to a friend with disarming simplicity, “As it is, I have very little to do in town, and I am not exposed to many visitors, I shall have more time for work.” Precisely why he did it has been the topic of speculation over many years.

Mozart’s stellar productivity at this time was in marked contrast to the depressing personal struggles in his life.  First of all, he was financially broke. Viennese audiences had moved on to favor other composers and his popularity waned. Consequently, he had few concert opportunities and commissions were lacking. He begged for help from his friend Michael Puchberg, “Just imagine my situation: sick and full of worry and grief… I am forced to sell my quartets {K 575, 589, 590] for a trifle just to get some cash into my hands and meet my immediate obligations…Anything would be a help just now. … If you could possibly be kind enough to lend me around one or two thousand gulden, over one or two years at a suitable rate of interest, you really would be doing me a favor.” Later, after a failed European tour in 1789 to raise money he wrote, “I haven’t the heart to be in your company because I would be obliged to admit that I cannot possibly pay you back what you are owed and I beg you to be patient with me.  I am so sorry.”

His Symphony No. 39 had zero fanfare or announcement vis-a-vis its introduction. There is no firm date for its premiere, and Mozart’s plan to introduce it at the “Concerts in the Casino” series was cancelled due to lack of ticket sales. Sometimes upcoming concerts programmed an “unidentified symphony” which possibly was number 39. Compounding this sad situation was the death of his only daughter three days after he completed K. 543.

The first movement, Adagio-Allegro opens with a slow, serious, chromatic introduction, colored by brass fanfares and descending lines. Such solemnity was a new type of beginning for Mozart. And he offered another innovation— his orchestration omits oboes and includes, instead paired clarinets.

This stately beginning yields quietly to the opening Allegro section. However, instead of a brisk beginning, the music begins modestly in ¾ meter before  announcing contrasting, substantial  main themes.  From that point forward, Mozart takes firm control, following traditional sonata-allegro format for the duration of this movement.

The Andante con moto begins quietly with the declamation of its main theme which is repeated. Another theme enters and again is repeated. Mozart omits a full development section and opts for tonal and dynamic coloration of his ideas instead of motivic treatment. Tempo changes also add variety. Notice the sharing of material throughout the orchestra—horns and winds, for example. The material used herein is derived in part from a sketch for his Prague symphony.

A traditional Austrian landler, a country based folk dance, provides the content for a minuet. This choice results in a bit of informality and geniality, rather than the poised aloofness traditional minuet behavior. Clear accentuation propels the theme. The mid-section trio contrasts by featuring a duet between a clarinet and flute in a quiet, unique combination with occasional tiny string participation.

Mozart chooses a single theme, which emerges in two formats for his finale—each begins the same way, but continues into different regions as they extend. A rapid idea immediately dances onto the stage, with energetic orchestral responses. The music reflects high spirits and deft craftsmanship as the tune (in both shapes) is treated to ingenious, zippy personality changes in the development. Rhythms are precise; dynamics are colorful; the tempo unflagging. Listen for his extensive writing for winds which add light, imitative commentary throughout. A traditional recapitulation concludes the movement without fanfare—there is no coda.

© Marianne Williams Tobias, Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra, 2016.

Due le esecuzioni che ho scelto di proporre. La  prima è tratta da un concerto della Philharmonia Orchestra diretta da Herbert von Karajan, eseguito a Salzburg il 28 gennaio 1956 durante le celebrazioni per il duecentesimo anniversario della nascita di Mozart.

Karajan amava moltissimo la musica del suo compaesano e le sue interpretazioni mozartiane degli anni Cinquanta si fanno a mio avviso preferire a quelle più tarde, per la leggerezza e trasparenza del suono abbinata a una suprema eleganza di fraseggio. La Philharmonia, fondata nel 1948 da Walter Legge che volle affidare al quarantenne direttore emergente l’ incarico di portarla ad alti livelli, realizza le intenzioni del maestro in maniera davvero perfetta.

Di seguito, l’ esecuzione di Leonard Bernstein con i Wiener Philharmoniker filmata dal vivo nel 1985

Seguendo una linea interpretativa già stabilita nelle sue incisioni degli anni Sessanta con la New York Philharmonic, il direttore americano ci propone un Mozart, vitalissimo, traboccante di energia e sempre ricco di quella calda, vibrante umanità che costituisce la cifra stilistica peculiare di questa fase della sua carriera vissuta in stretta collaborazione con la meravigliosa orchestra viennese insieme alla quale reincise tutti i lavori della grande tradizione classica, da Mozart fino a Mahler.

Veniamo adesso al secondo brano oggetto di questo post, il concerto in si bemolle maggiore K. 595 per pianoforte e orchestra. È l’ ultimo dei ventisette composti da Mozart per questa combinazione strumentale ed ebbe una gestazione piuttosto lunga perché fu iniziato nel 1788 e terminato solo tre anni più tardi, il 5 gennaio 1791. Mozart stesso suonò la parte solistica alla prima esecuzione pubblica, avvenuta il 4 marzo dello stesso anno nella Konzertsaal dell’ Hoftraiteurs Ignaz Jahn nella Himmelpfortgasse. Questa serata viennese fu anche l’ ultima apparizione pubblica di Mozart come concertista.

Angela Hewitt, pianista canadese conosciuta soprattutto per le sue interpretazioni di Bach, autore del quale è considerata fra gli specialisti più autorevoli, ha scritto questa interessante presentazione del pezzo per una rubrica divulgativa a lei affidata sulla rivista britannica Gramophone.

The K. 595 Concerto stands out on its own. There’s something quite particular about it that started in K. 503 and K. 537 – concertos that immediately preceded it and that are already a little bit different from the ones that came before them. This piece does have a certain feeling, and I don’t think it’s because we now know it’s Mozart’s last concerto because, of course, he didn’t know it was going to be his last – but there’s a paring down. Yet the harmonic language is becoming more daring, more surprising, and the overall mood is very melancholic. We know 1791 wasn’t a very good time for the composer – he had fallen a bit out of favour in Vienna, he wasn’t putting on his own concerts any more, his subscription series had fallen through, Constanze was always ill and he had only two pupils left – but in this year he did write an amazing amount of stuff.

Mozart wasn’t just trying to show off any more, he was beyond that. When he was making his name in Vienna he had to please the Viennese, who could be quite fickle. He never wrote music just to entertain, but I think that by the time he got to this concerto he didn’t care about that at all. It’s important that he was no longer writing just to please his Viennese audience.

Even the way this concerto starts sets a mood, with its slow pulsing accompaniment in the lower strings, and then the theme that comes in. I don’t think you can play it with the same outlook as you’d play Mozart’s other concertos. It’s not a happy-go-lucky piece. If you play it in that mood you’re missing something. There are a lot of sighing figures in it and a lot of really abrupt changes of key, especially in the development section of the first movement. In the passagework, every note has to sing and it shouldn’t be too rushed. Nothing is there just for brilliant display.

Daring keys and harmonies

The key changes in the first movement are radical. In the development we’re thrown into a series of keys – B flat major, B minor, C major, E flat minor – and each key has to have its own character. These sudden shifts of mood are very important. In the development section, the structure is quite different from that in others of Mozart’s concertos, with more repetition of the same material in different keys – something he had started to do a bit in K503. What strikes me the most is that even when the themes are in the major key they’re really not that happy.

In the first movement Mozart put in so many daring harmonies, and in the second he wrote something drastically simple. The theme here is very bare first of all and doesn’t travel much harmonically. It’s one of his simplest. I’ve tried so many different tempos in this movement, and even when I was recording it we had two different versions. I don’t think it should be too slow. It’s Larghetto alla breve, so two to the bar, not four; and because the harmonies aren’t complicated, there has to be this lovely pulsing accompaniment in the left hand (the orchestra accompanies the theme later in bar 49). There’s a bit of room for ornamentation in this movement as well. When you think of the slow movements of other concertos, such as K482 or K466, this is quite different in mood. There’s a sadness behind it, which, I think, is carried along into the third movement.

The final movement is linked to the song that Mozart wrote about yearning for spring, Sehnsucht nach dem Frühlinge, K596, and you wonder if it was in his mind that he wouldn’t see another spring. I like to carry on that mood a little bit, and then when the orchestra comes in it’s more of a hunting song. In anything you interpret, if you change the tempo even the slightest amount it changes the character. So by not taking this last movement too fast, you do change the character. For me, the most magical moment is after the cadenza that Mozart left us, where that theme comes back and the orchestra comes in – that makes me cry every time. For me this piece is worth playing just for bar 281!

In the development section of the last movement there are some extraordinary modulations. And I think that the transcendent aspect is very important. In a way, the first two movements keep us waiting for this finale. In some concertos, like the C minor (K491) and the D minor (K466), and many others, the first movement is already epic, but in this one, for me, everything leads to the last movement. Some last movements can be a happy finale to what’s gone before, but if I see the whole piece as one arc, I see that it leads to this.

The chamber music approach

It’s a real experience to perform it. If the performance goes well you can’t remain unmoved. When I conduct it myself, I treat it like chamber music. You have to be careful with dynamics and balance and the parts that need to be brought out, whereas in a piece like K537 it’s more a case of the orchestra accompanying endless scales and arpeggios. But this is very much chamber music, and it’s lovely to conduct it from the piano. I also think you need that feeling of intimacy – this is an intimate piece.
I’ve probably conducted it from the piano more than I have played it with a conductor, but it was great to work on it for the recording with Hannu Lintu, because he’s a wonderful accompanist and takes such care over the orchestra. He also doesn’t mind trying out different versions – well, not too much!

I believe this is one of the concertos of very few in the whole piano repertoire that really is transcendent. I don’t say that lightly. I think the ones that have that power are this one, Beethoven’s Fourth, Brahms’s First and Bach’s D minor Keyboard Concerto – works that just take you to a higher place. And this one does it mainly because of the theme in the last movement. When it comes back at the end, it is so heartbreaking. To what extent did he know that he wasn’t going to live very much longer? I think there must have been some kind of premonition.

Angela Hewitt

Gramophone
Monday, September 5, 2016

Anche in questo caso, ho scelto due esecuzioni da proporre. Iniziamo con quella di Sviatoslav Richter, con la English Chamber Orchestra diretta da Benjamin Britten, in una registrazione effettuata durante un concerto tenutosi a Blythburg il 16 giugno 1965.

Il pianista ucraino fu per anni regolare ospite di Britten, a cui lo legava una stretta amicizia, ad Aldeburgh, la cittadina nella contea di Suffolk, dove dal 1948 si tiene annualmente la rassegna fondata da Benjamin Britten, Peter Pears ed Eric Crozier. Oltre a Richter, anche David Oistrakh e Mstislav Rostropovich si esibirono di frequente ad Aldeburgh, dove tra l’ altro Dmitri Schostakovich nel 1970 diresse la prima esecuzione fuori dall’ URSS della sua Sinfonia N° 14, che proprio a Britten è dedicata.Questa straordinaria testimonianza dell’ incontro fra due artisti di tale livello è assolutamente esemplare, da ascoltare e riascoltare cogliendone ogni sfumatura.

Tra gli interpreti dei Concerti di Mozart io ho sempre avuto una particolare predilezione per Murray Perahia, la cui registrazione integrale è per me tra le migliori mai incise e costituisce un modello assoluto di riferimento. Qui lo vediamo in un video del 1979 in cui suona e dirige la Chamber Orchestra of Europe.

Scioltissimo ed elegantissimo nel fraseggio, il Mozart del pianista americano si caratterizza per la raffinatezza di un tocco attento a sottolineare ogni minima sfumatura. Tra le altre incisioni del brano che a mio avviso sono da conoscere, citerei senz’ altro quella del 1960 con Clara Haskil e Igor Markevitch, quella di Emil Gilels con Karl Böhm e i Wiener Philharmoniker, del 1974 e le due di Rudolf Serkin, la prima con Eugene Ormandy e la seconda con Claudio Abbado. Ma chiaramente ne esistono moltissime altre pari a queste, che ognuno può preferire in base ai suoi gusti personali. Del resto, questo post vuole essere solo un’ opportunità di meditare brevemente su due tra i capolavori assoluti nella produzione di un genio tra i massimi che l’ umanità abbia mai avuto.

Grazie Wolfi!