The great Mozart scholar, Alfred Einstein, once said of Mozart’s
occasional music that, “There are people who would trade a whole act of
Tannhäuser or
Lohengrin for one of these works, a lost
paradise of music.” This disc reminded me what he meant. I’ve loved these
works since hearing Jack Brymer’s classic set with the London Wind Soloists,
and the selection of works on this disc need fear little from the
comparison.
I’ve praised these musicians often when I’ve heard them, both
in the flesh
and
on disc. They sound great individually, but they are real
ensemble musicians, as their regular work with the Scottish Chamber
Orchestra will testify, and it’s that sense of individual skill combined
with communal enterprise that really makes this disc work. For a start,
there is a beautifully warm feel to the sound. The Linn recording is close
and personal, as these works should be, and there is a sweetness to the
playing that is never lost, nor should it be taken for granted. The Serenade
K375 feels like a full-scale symphonic work performed in the most intimate
circumstances, due to playing that is thoughtful and sensitive while
remaining personable and characterful. The delectably sweet clarinet sings
out the melody while the natural horns delicately comment on it with
distinctive period sound. All six lines weave in and out of each other
effortlessly, with runs that are particularly delicious. It's
altogether delightful, and symptomatic of how rest of disc will unfold. The
slow movement is particularly beautiful with lots of give-and-take between
the musicians and playing of such wonderful sensitivity. The finale then
absolutely sparkles, with perky wit in the outer sections but mellifluous
smoothness in the runs of the central section.
The Divertimenti might seem, at first glance, to be mere diversions, but
in fact it’s remarkable, when you consider that most of this music was
probably written as background to some sort of entertainment, that Mozart
invested them with such care and effortless beauty. K253 begins with a set
of theme and variations: the theme is played with smoothness and honeyed
delicacy, and the subsequent variations then flow into one another
beautifully while retaining their distinctive character. The Minuet that
follows is every bit as tender, with an especially lively Trio section, and
the finale bustles along very nicely with some particularly attractive grace
notes from the clarinet. K270 has a busy opening movement played with
characterful zest, and the Andantino is played with uncommon grace and
elegance, with a finale that is all effervescent wit. It helps you to
realise why Mozart was in such demand for music like this. K252 begins with
a really charming Andante. There is a hurdy-gurdyish sense of swagger to the
third movement Polonaise, an unusual movement for Mozart, and a sense of the
chase to finale. K240, on the other hand, has a virile opening, with
assertive punctuation from rest of the band, and a finale that feels like a
game of hide-and-seek in its witty interactions between musicians. It also
has a real winner of a slow movement, its mellifluous long line spun out
with
cantabile sweetness.
It seems invidious to single out one player for praise in what is clearly
an intrinsically communal enterprise, but Martín's clarinet, so
frequently given the lead, is particularly winning, charming in the slow
movements, full of sparkle and wit in the faster ones. That’s not to do down
his colleagues, however, who play with assertiveness, grace and wit. The
whole air of the disc is exceptionally genial and I enjoyed it
immensely.
Simon Thompson
Previous review:
Brian Wilson
