Mozart Piano Concertos
Mozart was a prolific composer for the time he lived. I can’t imagine if he lived to the age of 50, how many more opus would he have composed. Of the some 600 pieces of work, about 30 of them are piano concertos. I should say now that Mozart sometimes recycles themes in music and at time, would also use the same movement of one work in another.
These piano concertos sound easy to play, but they are not. I once read about how if Mozart lived in Chopin’s time, Mozart would write like Chopin. One simply can’t gloss over Mozart just because his composition might not seem as “embellished” or “extravagant.” His melody is just as impressive. The following excerpt is from Alfred Brendel’s recording of Mozart’s piano concertos. I think Brendel did a superb job in the recording, and here is what he had to say about it.
Alfred Brendel, translated by Eugene Hartzell
Let this be the first warning to the Mozart performer: piano-playing, be it ever so faultless, must not be considered sufficient. Mozart’s piano works should be for the player a receptacle full of latent musical possibilities which often go far beyond the purely pianistic. It is not the limitations of Mozart’s pianoforte (which I refuse to accept) that point the way, but rather Mozart’s dynamism, colorfulness and expressiveness in operatic singing, in the orchestra, in the ensembles of all kinds. For example, the first movement of Mozart’s Sonata in A minor, K.310 is to me a piece for symphony orchestra; the second movement resembles a vocal scene with a dramatic middle session, and the finale could be translated into a wind divertimento with no trouble at all.
In Mozart’s piano concertos, the sound of the piano is set off more sharply against that of the orchestra. Here the human voice and the orchestral solo instrument will be the main setters of standards for the pianist. From the Mozart singer he will learn not only to sing but also to “speak” clearly and with meaning, to characterize, to act and react; from the string player to think in terms of up-bow and down-bow; and from the flautist or oboist to shape fast passages in a variety of articulations, instead of delivering them up to an automatic non legato or, worse still, to an undeviating legato such as the old complete edition prescribed time and against without a shred of authenticity.
What is it that marks out Mozart’s music? An attempt to draw a dividing line between Haydn and Mozart could perhaps help to answer the question. Mozart sometimes comes astonishingly close to Haydn, and Haydn to Mozart, and they shared their musical accomplishments in brotherly fashion; but they were fundamentally different in nature. I see Haydn and Mozart the antithesis between instrumental and vocal, motif and melody, CPE and JC Bach, adagio and andante, caesuras (amusing and startling) and connections (seamless), daring and balance, the surprise of the unexpected and the surprise of the expected. From tranquility, Haydn plunges deep into agitation, while Mozart does the reverse, aiming at tranquility from nervousness.
Between Haydn, the explorer and adventurer, and Schubert, the sleepwalker, I see both Mozart and Beethoven as architects. But how differently they build! From the beginning of a piece, Beethoven places stone upon stone, constructing and justifying his edifice as it were in accordance with the laws of statics. Mozart, on the other hand, prefers to join together the most wonderful melodic ideas as prefabricated components; observe how in the first movement of K271 he varies the succession of his building-blocks, to the extent of shaking them up as though in a kaleidoscope. Whereas Beethoven draws one element from another, in what might be called a procedural manner, Mozart arranges one element after another as though it could not be otherwise.
Is Mozart’s music simple? For his contemporaries it was frequently too complicated. The idea of simplicity has become downright embarrassing in this century. There is a “kitsch” of plainness, especially noticeable in the literary glorification of the “simple life” and in the longing for the “popular vein.” What was all right for the Romantics is thought to be reasonable enough for their descendants. Simplicity is playing Mozart must not mean subjecting diversity to a leveling process or running away from problems. Simplicity is welcome as long as the point is to avoid superfluity. But to “concentrate only on what counts” in Mozart is questionable. Everything in his music counts, if we leave out a few weaker works or movements, of which there are some even among Mozart’s piano concertos, for example the early pieces preceding that wonder of the world, the “Jeunehomme” concerto K.271.
The identity of Mlle Jeunehomme seems to remain just as mysterious as the sudden supreme mastery that unfolds in the work composed for her. Here it is revealed for the first time that Mozart is both “as young as a youth” and “as wise as an old man” (Busoni). And from this point on, the Mozart player must shoulder a burden of perfection that goes beyond his powers.
Mozart was a prolific composer for the time he lived. I can’t imagine if he lived to the age of 50, how many more opus would he have composed. Of the some 600 pieces of work, about 30 of them are piano concertos. I should say now that Mozart sometimes recycles themes in music and at time, would also use the same movement of one work in another.
These piano concertos sound easy to play, but they are not. I once read about how if Mozart lived in Chopin’s time, Mozart would write like Chopin. One simply can’t gloss over Mozart just because his composition might not seem as “embellished” or “extravagant.” His melody is just as impressive. The following excerpt is from Alfred Brendel’s recording of Mozart’s piano concertos. I think Brendel did a superb job in the recording, and here is what he had to say about it.
Alfred Brendel, translated by Eugene Hartzell
Let this be the first warning to the Mozart performer: piano-playing, be it ever so faultless, must not be considered sufficient. Mozart’s piano works should be for the player a receptacle full of latent musical possibilities which often go far beyond the purely pianistic. It is not the limitations of Mozart’s pianoforte (which I refuse to accept) that point the way, but rather Mozart’s dynamism, colorfulness and expressiveness in operatic singing, in the orchestra, in the ensembles of all kinds. For example, the first movement of Mozart’s Sonata in A minor, K.310 is to me a piece for symphony orchestra; the second movement resembles a vocal scene with a dramatic middle session, and the finale could be translated into a wind divertimento with no trouble at all.
In Mozart’s piano concertos, the sound of the piano is set off more sharply against that of the orchestra. Here the human voice and the orchestral solo instrument will be the main setters of standards for the pianist. From the Mozart singer he will learn not only to sing but also to “speak” clearly and with meaning, to characterize, to act and react; from the string player to think in terms of up-bow and down-bow; and from the flautist or oboist to shape fast passages in a variety of articulations, instead of delivering them up to an automatic non legato or, worse still, to an undeviating legato such as the old complete edition prescribed time and against without a shred of authenticity.
What is it that marks out Mozart’s music? An attempt to draw a dividing line between Haydn and Mozart could perhaps help to answer the question. Mozart sometimes comes astonishingly close to Haydn, and Haydn to Mozart, and they shared their musical accomplishments in brotherly fashion; but they were fundamentally different in nature. I see Haydn and Mozart the antithesis between instrumental and vocal, motif and melody, CPE and JC Bach, adagio and andante, caesuras (amusing and startling) and connections (seamless), daring and balance, the surprise of the unexpected and the surprise of the expected. From tranquility, Haydn plunges deep into agitation, while Mozart does the reverse, aiming at tranquility from nervousness.
Between Haydn, the explorer and adventurer, and Schubert, the sleepwalker, I see both Mozart and Beethoven as architects. But how differently they build! From the beginning of a piece, Beethoven places stone upon stone, constructing and justifying his edifice as it were in accordance with the laws of statics. Mozart, on the other hand, prefers to join together the most wonderful melodic ideas as prefabricated components; observe how in the first movement of K271 he varies the succession of his building-blocks, to the extent of shaking them up as though in a kaleidoscope. Whereas Beethoven draws one element from another, in what might be called a procedural manner, Mozart arranges one element after another as though it could not be otherwise.
Is Mozart’s music simple? For his contemporaries it was frequently too complicated. The idea of simplicity has become downright embarrassing in this century. There is a “kitsch” of plainness, especially noticeable in the literary glorification of the “simple life” and in the longing for the “popular vein.” What was all right for the Romantics is thought to be reasonable enough for their descendants. Simplicity is playing Mozart must not mean subjecting diversity to a leveling process or running away from problems. Simplicity is welcome as long as the point is to avoid superfluity. But to “concentrate only on what counts” in Mozart is questionable. Everything in his music counts, if we leave out a few weaker works or movements, of which there are some even among Mozart’s piano concertos, for example the early pieces preceding that wonder of the world, the “Jeunehomme” concerto K.271.
The identity of Mlle Jeunehomme seems to remain just as mysterious as the sudden supreme mastery that unfolds in the work composed for her. Here it is revealed for the first time that Mozart is both “as young as a youth” and “as wise as an old man” (Busoni). And from this point on, the Mozart player must shoulder a burden of perfection that goes beyond his powers.
