Wigmore Hall
Piano Sonata no.1 in C major,
KV 279/189d
Piano Sonata no.2 in F major,
KV 280/189e
Piano Sonata no.3 in B-flat
major, KV 281/189f
Fantasia in C minor, KV 475
Piano Sonata no.14 in C minor,
KV 457
Francesco Piemontesi (piano)
The Wigmore Hall’s Mozart
Odyssey continued with four piano sonatas and a fantasia from Francesco
Piemontesi. Piemontesi is a thoughtful artist; even when his way would not be
mine, there can be no doubting the integrity of his performance. And so it
proved here; although I had my doubts concerning aspects of the earlier
sonatas, especially his insistence, at times, on playing them in a fashion more
‘Baroque’ than ‘Classical’ – umbrella stylistic terms that throw up more
questions than they answer – Piemontesi offered his own performative
justifications.
The first sonata, in C major,
KV 279/189d, opened with an Allegro that was taken very fast indeed.
I was intrigued and, to begin with, not a little perplexed by the way
Piemontesi had right-hand arpeggios sound more like ornaments than
fully-fledged elements of the melodic line; I had never thought of them like
that, but on reflection, could imagine why someone might. He used very little
pedal indeed, in a light, almost Glenn Gould-like performance (albeit with more
affection than Gould was ever able to summon up for Mozart), this movement in
particular often sounding Scarlatti-like. Its development section, however,
proved instructive in the pianist’s highlighting, without exaggeration, how the
material differed from (i.e., developed) what we had heard before. The Andante was, again, taken pretty fast.
Nevertheless, it flowed rather than being rushed. I should not have minded a
little more indulgence, especially when it came to quasi-vocal melodic leaps,
but the legato was to die for, likewise
some wondrous, hushed moments. If the lack of sentimentality in the finale was,
in itself, again admirable, I sometimes longed for a more conventionally
pianistic treatment, especially in the first group, the second yielding
somewhat more, as did the development section.
The F major Sonata, next in
Köchel’s catalogue, whichever version, immediately sounded, to my ears, better
reconciled to the instrument. Perhaps that is partly the work itself, although
other pianists (Barenboim, Uchida, et al.)
might beg to differ. The first movement was not without its ‘Baroque’ or ‘pre-Classical’
elements – another can of worms from which I shall in cowardly fashion shy away – but why
should there not be? Terraced dynamics, for instance, certainly have their place
here. I admired Piemontesi’s refusal to tone down his fortes; if one has a modern piano, one should use it. The ravishing
second-movement siciliano was given its full due, rhythmically, harmonically,
offering the greatest pathos, sharply characterised. It was ‘vocal’ yes,
sometimes in a well-nigh Gluckian way, but ultimately, incontestably
instrumental. Piemontesi’s ear for the longer line proved impeccable too,
without that in any sense shortchanging rhetorical gestures. Like the finale of
its predecessor, the third movement proved Haydnesque, Piemontesi especially
alert to its motivic dynamism.
There was, again, a sharp
opposition between first and second subjects in the first movement of the
B-flat major sonata. Was it too sharp? Perhaps. However, a stern development
section, and a splendidly integrative recapitulation conveyed retrospective
justification. The slow movement flowed, though not so quickly as that in the first
sonata. It was poised, quite without a sense of being hurried, or harried; it
subtly yielded too. Piemontesi’s navigation of competing tendencies in the finale
dazzled; this was as convincing a feat of integration as I have heard in this
music.
 |
| First edition of the C minor Fantasia (Artaria), closing bars |
In the second half, we heard
the great C minor Sonata, preceded, as it often is, by the Fantasia, here
without a break – and indeed, without the final bars of the Fantasia (rather a
good way of doing it, if one must). Piemontesi’s long-term harmonic ear
(Furtwängler’s Fernhören) really came
into its own here, the possibilities of the opening phrases almost audible at
the outset. His legato touch,
anything but unvariegated, helped with that too, of course. There was no
doubting that this was music of quite another order when it came to emotional
and intellectual weight. Mozart’s tour of the tonal horizons truly enthralled –
and it all sounded, as great Mozart playing does, so easy! The first movement
of the Sonata following on as it did registered as some kind of release in
context, although the chiaroscuro afforded by the E-flat major of the second
subject asserted different tonal priorities. Wisely, Piemontesi took the first
but not the second repeat, the turn to the tonic minor in the recapitulation
properly heartbreaking. And so, the music subsided. (Applause suggested some
thought that the end of the Fantasia!) The slow movement, one of Mozart’s very
greatest, emerged both as great instrumental scena and as something that could
only ever have been conceived for, let alone realised by, the piano. Again,
line and integration were beyond reproach; above all, they were felt as utterly
necessary. The richness of Mozart’s harmonies suggested the C minor Piano
Concerto, even Don Giovanni, whilst
the turn to A-flat major inevitably brought to mind – as it always does to me
under the fingers – the slow movement of Beethoven’s op.13. That section
proved, quite properly, both contrast and intensification. The finale sounded, without
melodrama, a note of unrelenting tragedy; even in the major mode, intensity of
performance and awareness of context did their tragic work. Mozart’s music
sounded, as it should, both close to and distinct from Beethoven.
