Grosser Saal, Mozarteum
Divertimento in B-flat major
for two oboes, two horns, and two bassoons, KV 270
Divertimento in D major for two
violins, viola, double bass, oboe, and two horns, ‘Nannerl Septet’, KV 251
Divertimento in E-flat major
for two oboes, two horns, and two bassoons, KV 252/240a
March in D major, KV 290/167AB
and Divertimento in D major for violin, viola, double bass, bassoon, and two
horns, KV 205/167A
Malin Broman, Maria
Bader-Kubizek (violins)
Pascal Siffert (viola)
Enno Senft (double bass)
Sébastien Giot, Rachel Frost
(oboes)
Jasper de Waal, Beth Randell
(horns)
Matthew Wilkie, Christopher
Gunia (bassoons)
There are worse ways to start
the day than with four Mozart Salzburg divertimenti: all the better when
performed in Salzburg and with such distinction and evident affection as was
brought to them by soloists from the Chamber Orchestra of Europe. The B-flat
major Divertimento, KV 270, proved an especially delightful way to open the
concert, its opening Allegro molto
buoyant, bubbly, yet grounded. Interaction between different pairs and groups
of instruments was faultless and lightly generative, revealing an already
astounding capability for balance between harmony and counterpoint on the part
of the twenty-year-old composer. Like a fine glass of sparkling wine, it proved
to be over in a flash, yet lingered longer than one might ever have expected.
The following ‘Andantino’ was likewise all too brief: a courtly perambulation –
development, no mere contemplation – through a garden of delights. All that was
missing – well, perhaps not quite all, yet near enough – to transport us to the
world of Così fan tutte, or at least
the later piano concertos, was clarinets. The Minuet danced, without being
reduced to ‘a dance’, its trio relaxing just the right amount. However many the
notes, the musicians hurtled through the ‘Presto’ finale without a hint of
fussiness or harrying. Natural fizz, one might say.
Claudio Abbado made an
excellent case for playing the ‘Nannerl Septet’ with orchestra; but there is,
of course no need. (Not that we need ‘need’; results speak for themselves.) Its
opening movement was graceful yet directed, cultured strings offering lovely
antiphonal response to Sébastien Giot’s magical oboe. Eminently ‘symphonic’ one
might say, though perhaps that would give the wrong impression: better to think
of it as taking its place in the myriad of eighteenth-century sonata writing.
An ear-catching minuet had its charm and character – not least Enno Senft’s
double-bass solo line – brought out from within: nothing, thank God, was
applied to the music. The third
movement sang with apparent insouciance, yet there was unquestionably more
beneath the beguiling surface: Mozart in a nutshell. Another minuet and
variations proved beautifully contrasted, both with that and with the minuets
that had gone before. The more one listens, the more one appreciates the riches
of early(ish) Mozart one might once have been overlook: at least, that is, in a
performance such as this. Many clearly assumed the ‘Rondeau’ to be the final
movement, applauding at its close. One can understand why, up to a point, and
it did not harm. But the different turns Mozart’s music takes, delightful and surprising,
even when one ‘knows’, perhaps hinted otherwise. It was not ‘symphonic’ at all,
then – and all the better for it. After the short pause necessitated, the
closing ‘Marcia alla francese’ emerged as a duly winning encore.
Following the interval, the
opening movement of KV 252, an ‘Andante’, offered a lovely contrast, especially
when played with such charm in balance and development. The second movement
confirmed yet again what variety Mozart offers both players and listeners in
his minuet-writing, Jasper de Waal’s horn solos here a particular delight. Mozart
in Polonaise form benefited from a buoyant, splendidly responsive account of
the third movement, leading to a finale no one would have doubted as such. We
could tell where it was heading from the outset: now it was but a matter of
enjoying the ride.
Finally came the D major March
and Divertimento, almost certainly the oldest music, probably written in 1772
and 1773. Quite rightly, they were played with all the care, attention, and
affection afforded to their companion pieces. The March emerged cultivated and
variegated, quite without pedantry: there was always music between its phrases too. And what delight there was to be had here
in horn interventions from de Waal and Beth Randell. This was music as light and as life-giving as air itself. The
first movement of KV 205/167A proved a fine foil for what had gone and what was
to come, heard with a grave dignity that again seemed to point to the composer’s
later years. If, again, I could not help but think of Così, it was music of a different buffo quality that emerged from it; or was it? Yes, of course, yet
a detailed, infections performance ever beguiled and edified. The Divertimento’s
two minuets were sprightly and spirited, once again ringing the changes; likewise
their trios, clearly relished. In between, the extraordinary ‘Adagio’, for violin,
viola, and double bass, gave the lie to any doubts anyone may have held
regarding the instrumentation. One would never have known the potential
difficulties in so graceful and ultimately moving a performance. The ‘Presto’ finale
again revealed character both in genre and particularity, imbued with a
well-nigh operatic drama in its turn to the minor. With Mozart, there is never
a clear distinction between ‘dramatic’ and ‘instrumental’ music; why should
there be?
