Proms Chamber Music 3 - London Winds/Collins: Mozart and Strauss, 4 August 2014

Cadogan Hall

Mozart – Serenade no.12 in C minor, KV 388/384a

Strauss – Suite in B-flat major for thirteen wind instruments, op.4

Philippa Davies, Sarah Newbold (flutes)

Gareth Hulse, Katie Clemmow (oboes)
Michael Collins, Peter Sparks (clarinets)

Dan Jemison, Helen Simons (bassoons)

Fraser Gordon (contra-bassoon)

Richard Watkins, Michael Thompson, Elise Campbell, Carys Evans (horns)

Michael Collins (director)

 

This lovely lunchtime Prom at Cadogan Hall presented Mozart’s great C minor Serenade for woodwind followed by Strauss’s B-flat major Suite for thirteen wind instruments. The former is a masterpiece, the latter an apprentice work, but it was something of a tribute to the performance from London Winds that one could still respond more or less equally warmly to both halves of the recital.

 

The Mozart Serenade opened in grave fashion, opening up just as it should. In this of all Mozart’s ‘serenades’, the popular understanding of the genre surely stands most distant. There is typical chiaroscuro, of course, and there are plenty of well opportunities, here taken, for Elysian delight, but this is a work of a seriousness we are more likely to consider ‘symphonic’. Harmonic rhythm was beautifully, meaningfully judged, often built here in the first movement upon a wonderfully grainy bassoon line. The close was tragic in a properly Mozartian sense. Tender dignity characterised the slow movement, played simply, seemingly ‘as written’, though such simplicity conceals a great deal of artifice. As in its predecessor, the tempo seemed just ‘right’, so much so that one did not notice it. The minuet brought Mozart poised, quite rightly, between Bach and Beethoven, ‘learned’ counterpoint and its harmonic implications the key to tragedy. Its trio imparted welcome sunlight – or should that be moonlight? Mood, voice, strength of purpose, and indeed form all served to have the finale point to that of the C minor Piano Concerto, KV 491. Musical inventiveness gave the lie to silly claims one sometimes hears concerning the relative impoverishment of Classical variation form, the conviction of the performance leaving one in no doubt as to this movement’s stature, or indeed as to that of the work as a whole. As so often, Mozart’s chromaticism and construction had us know that we were but a stone’s throw away from the Second Viennese School. The first banishment of clouds, heralded by tender horns, had me think of Figaro; the second led to a suitably good-natured conclusion which yet could not efface memories of what had gone before.

 

The larger ensemble (thirteen as opposed to eight instruments) required by Strauss necessarily resulted in fuller tone, but there was also of course plenty of scope for subdivision. Already in the first movement one heard a highly dramatic, even at times operatic voice, if without quite the individuality or indeed the clarity of purpose that would soon develop. The second movement came closer, not least at its opening. Its dignity as a ‘Romanze’ seemed both to hark back to Mozart’s Andante and to pay its debt to nineteenth-century masters. Mock-seriousness in the Gavotte was soon, almost instantly, transmuted into clearer thumbing of the nose, Till Eulenspiegel-style, even though Strauss’s handling of form here remains relatively stiff. Solos seemed also to herald the world of the tone poems. Again, there was splendid contrast between them and a grainy bassoon bass line, all the more delightful when one of the bassoons itself turned soloist. ‘Learned’ counterpoint might not suit Strauss so well as Mozart, but that in the final fugue was despatched – both in work and performance – with good humour, even delight. This might not be a masterpiece, but its performance confirmed my general belief that the lesser works of great composers are of more interest than the principal works of lesser composers. Who would not rather hear Apollo et Hyacinthus or Guntram than … (fill in the gap)?

 

Collins/Brodsky Quartet - Mozart and Brahms, 19 March 2014

Hall One, Kings Place

Mozart – Clarinet Quintet in A major, KV 581

Brahms – Clarinet Quintet in B minor, op.115

Michael Collins (clarinet)

Daniel Rowland, Ian Belton (violins)

Paul Cassidy (viola)

Jacqueline Thomas (cello)

 

This was a delightful concert from beginning to end, Michael Collins and the Brodsky Quartet imparting seemingly effortless musicality to their performances of the Mozart and Brahms Clarinet Quintets, never, so far as I recall, putting a step wrong. There were no mannerisms, just good and, in the best sense, old-fashioned musicianship. The opening Allegro of the Mozart work sounded with that almost impossible-to-define and yet equally impossible-to-ignore ‘lateness’ of the composer’s ‘late’ works, haunted by beautiful and – crucially – meaningful chiaroscuro. (From 1789, it is not actually so very ‘late’, but anyway…) The tempo here, as elsewhere, sounded just right, so that one did not even notice it. There was profusion of melody, of course, and what melody! In perfect balance, however, there was to be heard decidedly ‘late’ counterpoint, Mozart by now having utterly subsumed the examples of Bach and Handel into his own writing. The development proved quite scintillating, allowing all players to shine. And there were sensual, quasi-operatic delights to be had too, especially during the recapitulation: duets between Collins and Daniel Rowland perhaps especially beguiling.

 

Is there a more heart-stopping melody than the opening theme to the slow movement? It was treated here to that most difficult yet crucial of tasks: a performance of simplicity that belied artistry. However, it would be nothing without Mozart’s extraordinary harmonies, and they were voiced, their progress traced, to perfection. And again – those duets! Here they seemingly prefigured La clemenza di Tito. There was a sweetness that can only really be termed celestial; and yet, there was equally a longing that was very much of this world, whether we think of it as sexual or as a longing for the beatific vision. The minuet again sounded with ‘lateness’, not the least of whose exceptional passages are in the first, strings-only trio – which yet sounds quite different from Mozart’s writing for string quartet as such. There was throughout an air, refracted, of the outdoor serenades of old: now more fragile, more painful. The finale benefited from well-nigh flawless command of pulse and rhythm, never forced. There was minore tragedy to be heard, with wonderful, unexaggerated flexibility, and a delectable account of the slow variation. What a pity some idiot did his best to ruin the performance by clapping during the penultimate bar. By some miracle, he failed to do so.

 

The first movement of the Brahms quintet announced the voice of someone who might have wished to be Mozart but who knew all too well that his historical position, amongst other things, would not permit that: ‘lateness’ in a different and yet not entirely dissimilar sense. Textures were thicker, though not too much so. The fury of Brahms’s earlier years coexisted with later serenity. All dialectics? Well, yes: this is Brahms, after all. The cello sounded properly more prominent. Tone was richer overall, though with some beautifully hushed moments. The Adagio was songful, at times uneasy; yet, however involved Brahms’s writing became, the players ensured that his songfulness remained. Torment and solace, then, though sometimes one might well have asked, ‘which is which?’ And the Schubertian heavenly length: one would not have wished it any other way. There was a nicely questing, intermezzo-like mood to the third movement. Contrasts were skilfully integrated into its all-too-short whole: a telling contrast with the expansiveness of its predecessor, time advancing. Integration was very much to the fore in the finale too, including telling integration of tendencies within the work as a whole. That is hard Brahmsian work, but infinitely worth the toil. We heard a performance that was weighty in the best sense, certainly not ponderous, and with plenty of light as well as shade.