Piano Sonata no.4 in E-flat
major, KV 282/189g
Piano Sonata no.12 in F major,
KV 332/300kPiano Sonata no.5 in G major, KV 283/189h
Piano Sonata no.15 in F major, KV 533 & 494
Francesco Piemontesi (piano)
I shall deal with the first ‘half’
– that is, the E-flat major Sonata and the first movement of KV 332/300k – quickly, since, thanks to a stray
electronic device, it was not really possible to assess, or indeed to enjoy,
Francesco Piemontesi’s performances. (It is not something on which I wish to
dwell, but I could hardly write about the concert and not mention it.) The
first movement of KV 282/189g went
relatively undisturbed. It sang as a true Adagio,
imbued with a sense of the luminous, even numinous; this was, we rightly felt,
special music, conveyed with (mostly) chaste passion. Harmonic surprises told without
exaggeration. The first Minuet had a spring in its step, the second contrasting
of its own nature, the subtlest of rubato aiding its way. Alas, the closing Allegro’s performance seemed compelling,
but it became almost impossible to tell. There was certainly just as varied a
palette of articulation and dynamics. Lively, and characterful, the F major
Sonata, KV 332/300k, sounded as if it
had come straight from the world of opera
buffa, albeit with a few more seria
moments. I was struck anew by the extraordinary concision of the development
section, but already a high-pitched noise was rendering the performance
unlistenable, and, more to the point, the pianist visibly disconcerted. Despite
a gestural plea from him and a second verbal request from the Director, John
Gilhooly, to check hearing aids, our own and those around us, interference
continued. It was decided to bring forward the interval: a pity, but undoubtedly
the right thing to do in the circumstances.
The second ‘half’ opened in an
atmosphere of increasing relief (in more than one sense). The slow movement of
the F major Sonata, with which it began, flowed nicely; more ‘Classical’ than ‘Romantic’
in conception, without underselling its seductive beauties. Piemontesi very
much had the measure of Mozart’s string-like writing in certain of the
left-hand passages. The composer’s written-in ‘ornamentation’ proved
melodically generative in itself. Allegro
assai is Mozart’s marking for the finale – how I struggled with this, many
moons ago, for my Grade 8! – and Allegro
assai it was, in a highly yet not excessively rhetorical reading. It was
recognisably of a similar operatic world to the first and second movements.
We returned, then, to the
earlier Mozart, to the G major Sonata, KV 283/189h. Overflowing with melody, the first movement benefited greatly
from due attention to the twin gestural and structural roles of motivic
offshoots of those melodies. A fruitful tension between twin beauties, pristine
and more complex, performed a similar role in the ensuing Andante. Likewise in the finale. Perhaps it is not an entirely
successful work, at least when judged by the standards of the fully mature
composer, but even its problems fascinate, ensnare, especially in a performance
such as this. Piemontesi’s suggestions of the orchestral tutti were well judged, as was the sense, once again, of opera seria (Lucio Silla, perhaps?)
The second of the F major
Sonatas we heard received perhaps the finest performance of all. In the first
movement, its Bachian lessons learned, loved, absorbed into a tonal and
dramatic universe as all-encompassing as that of Shakespeare, we heard a
command of line such that primacy of melody could both be reinstated and,
vis-à-vis the harmony beneath, subtly questioned. Balance was the thing in the
counterpoint, just as it should be. I initially found the Andante a little on the cool side, although there was no doubting
its poise, nor its clarity. Greater volubility came with the development’s
minor mode – how could it not? – and its extreme chromaticism, such frightening
intensification making retrospective sense of what I had first doubted. The
recapitulation’s flirtations with the future, Webern in particular, were
relished as further development, for there was no doubting the profundity of
either work or performance. After such Mahlerian intensity, the rondo finale
necessarily struck a very different note. (The split Köchel numbering reflects
its earlier composition, as a stand-alone piece, albeit in need of considerable
revision for inclusion here.) It was definitely alla breve, its particular lightness of touch neither denied nor
underlined, although the mysteries of its episodes ensured that victory was not
too easily won; the music, rightly, retained its sense of enigma.
