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First Metropolitan United Church
October 18, 2019
On the face of it, considering that he died less than two months before his thirty-sixth birthday, it would seem nonsensical to divide the career of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart into the traditional early, middle and late stages.
And yet...
There can be no denying that Mozart's art developed over his short life, from the dazzlingly-accomplished early music to the deep late works, Mozart's emotional journey in music took him further than many a composer who had a far longer career. If you will, Mozart's musical journey took him from the pretty to the profound.
Friday's outstanding concert by the Victoria Chamber Orchestra under the indefatigable Yariv Aloni nicely underlined this, featuring two (fairly) early works, one somewhat later (perhaps one could call this "middle period") and two late masterpieces. By interspersing the early and the late in this way the programme gave a least one listener new insight into this over-analyzed composer.
The Divertimento in D K.136/125a is the first of the trio of works occasionally known a the "Salzburg Symphonies", composed in 1772 when Mozart was just sixteen.
One of the most appealing features of Friday's concert was that each work was given a stylistically appropriate performance; the opening movement was smooth and lithe, taken quickly but not excessively so. The orchestra produced a very good sound, lines were commendably clean and there was rhythmic energy to spare; I particularly enjoyed the delicacy of the ending.
The andante was charming and Aloni made no effort to inject a spurious profundity, although the promise for the future was quite clear. Finally the presto fairly fizzed along and featured some delightfully playful dynamics.
The contrast between that early divertimento and the next work, the Adagio and Fugue in C minor, K.546, could hardly have been greater. According to the composer himself, it is "a short Adagio for two violins, viola and bass, for a fugue which I wrote some time ago for two Pianos" The fugue (K.426) was composed in late 1783, the adagio in 1788, and the entry in Mozart's work catalogue is dated 26 June, 1788, which was also the date on which he finished K.543, the first of his lat three symphonies.
Nobody is quite certain why Mozart composed this piece and there is no known commission. Nonetheless, it is a quite extraordinary piece: the adagio is dark, dramatic and pregnant with suppressed violence. The ensuing fugue brought to mind nothing less than Beethoven's Grosse Fuge (which, by contrast, was written for quartet and later arranged by the composer for piano duet as Op.134); it possesses an almost strident forcefulness, a far cry from the "chocolate box prettiness" label all too frequently attached to Mozart's music, one could almost hear him saying "who cares what you think? This is what I intended." (Or perhaps even going along with Ralph Vaughan Williams — on his own fourth symphony — "I don't know if I like it, but it is what I meant".)
This was a superbly-drawn performance which, I suspect, left many in the audience stunned and some, I know for a fact, wondering if it could really have been written by Mozart (it was).
The "Serenata Notturna" dates from January 1776, the month in which Mozart turned twenty, and there is already a distinct advance on the divertimento from just four years earlier.
Depending on one's point of view, the scoring is either for two small orchestras, or is Mozart's version of a concerto grosso, with a solo quartet (two violins, viola and — be still my beating heart — a doublebass) and a string ensemble plus timpani.
The work opened with a slightly pompous tutti employing a dotted rhythm that was clearly a favourite of Mozart's (he would later use it in the opening of three successive piano concertos, K.453, 456 and 459). Any pomposity was immediately ameliorated by the solo quartet — Hollas Longton, Anja Rebstock, Jessica Pickersgill and Richard Watters — who played standing at the front of the stage. And played beautifully. There are also several passages where the main body of strings play a pizzicato accompanied by the timpani (the excellent Kevin Grady), a wonderfully subtle effect.
The term "trio", as in "minuet [later scherzo] and trio" derives from the courtly baroque practice of contrasting dances, frequently having one performed by just three instruments, to avert monotony. (Even marches could have trios: the "Land of Hope and Glory" section of Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance March No.1 is just such a one).
It was, therefore, a delightful paradox that the trio of the second movement minuet of the serenata was played by the solo quartet, whom Aloni allowed to set their own tempo and indulge in their own rubato, which was most deftly handled.
The final movement is led off by the solo group and echoed by the orchestra; there are many tempo changes and these were excellently coordinated by Aloni and Longton.
There was one significant departure from Mozart's manuscript, when, in deference to the fact that the orchestra are this season celebrating their (first) quarter-century, the music segued exquisitely into Mildred and Patty Hill's greatest — let us be honest, only — hit, "Happy Birthday to You", now, thankfully, out of copyright. This was so well done that I am certain Mozart would have approved.
After the interval we heard the second of the three "Salzburg symphonies", the Divertimento in B flat, K.137.
Like its sibling, this was performed with poise and elegance, with some nice interplay between first violins and violas in the brisk second movement and an absolutely charming finale.
I believe that my formal introduction (as opposed to catching the odd movement on the radio) to Mozart's Serenade in G, K.525 — better-known to all and sundry as "Eine kleine Nachtmusik" — was on The Swingle Singers 1965 LP "Anyone for Mozart?"
And, despite the music's frequent use as theme tunes for various radio programmes, not to mention in supermarkets, I have retained my affection for the piece ever since. (I can even sing most of the bass line, although I am pleased to say that I managed to resist the temptation.)
I was expecting great things from these particular performers, nor was I in any way disappointed: Aloni's tempo for the opening movement was perfect, dynamics were scrupulously observed (as was the repeat — thank you), there was an almost feline suppleness to the second subject and a genuine feeling of freshness in the musicians' approach.
"Graceful" was the watchword for the second movement, with impressively detailed inner parts and a fine, weighty sound near the close.
The minuet was taken at a steady tempo and the trio was delicious, whereas the finale, taken somewhat more steadily than the hectic "let's see how fast we can play this" tempo one often encounters, had a great deal of energy, but also moments of considerable delicacy.
This was a gratifyingly well-attended concert (the line outside stretched right down the steps onto the sidewalk) and deservedly so.
The Victoria Chamber Orchestra remain near the top of my "not to be missed" list. Long may they flourish!
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