MOZART: Piano Concerto No. 17 in G Major, K. 453; Piano Concerto No. 27 in B-flat Major, K. 595 – Angela Hewitt, piano/ Orch. da Camera di Mantova/ Hannu Lintu – Hyperion CDA67919, 59:22 [Distr. by Harmonia mundi] *****:
Canadian virtuoso Angela Hewitt continues her richly-colored survey of the Mozart piano concertos with this latest installment (rec. 11-13 July 2011), which includes two of Mozart’s greatest exercises in the genre from 1884 and 1791, respectively. The opulent writing for the G Major Concerto includes fascinating figures for the flutes and bassoon, including the latter’s moves to F natural in the midst of G Major machinations. Exuberant and often boldly audacious, the keyboard writing of the opening Allegro tests Hewitt’s abilities in runs and pearly play legato, the left hand often imitating a hunting motif. The modulation to B-flat Major to mark the development section proves piquant and alluring at once. The sweeping leaps and long-held cadences point at several techniques and sighing affects of which the “emotional” school of C.P.E. Bach had been fond. The espessivo episodes, even with a move to C Minor, remain a model of clarity and heartfelt sincerity. The cadenza, rife with Alberti figures, is Mozart’s own contribution. Hewitt’s ability to negotiate even tricky metrics and arpeggios with complete security and serenity of affect stands as her trump card. The sunny or martial effects, as required, come off via the ministrations of conductor Lintu with fleet authority.
At first, Mozart remains ambiguous as to our key center for the exquisite Andante, an elongated opera aria that moves between C Major and G Major. Mozart eventually opts for C Major. The phrase lengths keep alternating in irregular patterns, punctuated by sudden sforzati and wide leaps in the vocal line. The presence of oboe, bassoon, and flute becomes increasingly special to the color of this inspired movement, with the keyboard’s thirds in loving dialogue for this coloratura toccata whose dramatic power eludes easy description. A wonderful intimacy ensues in the latter third of the movement, as once more the trio of winds joins the keyboard for a moment of tragic colloquy. The fascinating movement ends in a surprising F Major, a kind of existential question mark to that which has preceded. By now, most Mozart cognoscenti know that the last movement Allegretto: Presto stands as a testament to Mozart’s pet starling, which memorized the theme (for subsequent variations) but also embellished the tune with a pause and one sharp note. The French contredanse states two eight-bar phrases, repeated. After nimble thirds and embellishments with the Mantova winds for two variations, Hewitt takes us into the minor and opera seria. A fortissimo propels us back to the major key, and suddenly the tutti moves to Presto, a finale that operates in the manner of opera buffa. Hewitt’s trill bubbles with laughter, as do the Mannheim rockets from the orchestra. Horns and Hewitt’s piano compete for the hunting-horn effects, and we can hear Papagena and Papageno in fluent patter. A false cadence and tremolos complete the panoply of bravura affects, including Mozart’s bird-call, and the whole piece romps to a joyous demonstration of imaginative power on every level.
The valedictory B-flat Major Concerto No. 27 of 1791, though scored in high spirits, reveals a melancholy cast impossible to separate from our knowledge of the composer’s impending death. The music moves from B-flat to the minor mode and then to a distant E-flat Minor, an urge to a tragic gravitas that Mozart himself may not have suspected. At moments, the delicacy of the writing suggests a music-box wrought in Mannheim terms, followed by dolce and espessivo affects of a most arresting character. Sighs and marches dominate this opening movement, Allegro, whose shift for the development section adumbrates much of Beethoven. The oboe and bassoon add to the melancholy with keyboard’s canters and runs; and then with upward scales from Hewitt , the effect becomes devastatingly tragic and celestial, at once. The reduced strings of the Mantova ensemble contribute to the diaphanous magic of the entire enterprise, a lovely example of “pure” Mozart exquisitely captured by recording engineer Stephan Reh.
After the harmonic labyrinths of the first movement, the succeeding Larghetto projects a daring simplicity, a tune wrought by Wagner’s Parsifal. This does not deny the almost excruciating descending scales, small leaps, and wrenching trills that interject themselves in the course of this delicate journey. Hewitt opts for an andantino tempo, moving the music without cloying sentimentality, the tempo having been marked alla breve. Hewitt’s right hand follows a path well removed from our mortal coil, perhaps sharing with visionaries like Dante a glimpse of the heavenly aether. A gentle dance, Allegro, concludes this amazing concerto, the flute and bassoon adding their especial timbres to the mix at the movement’s opening. Fine rippling runs in the keyboard and echoes from the winds extend the brilliant fioritura; then, a pregnant pause alters the affect of the music, the orchestra, too, having become more introspective. The canter resumes but its self-consciousness has the poignancy of Paradise Lost. The orchestral color that accompanies the piano’s singing now has the effect of Marvell’s lines that Hemingway quotes about “Time’s winged chariot.” The final cadenza dances and cavorts in an upward scale before the orchestra rejoins the keyboard, Hewitt’s executing the slightest of ritards for this tragic juncture. The strings and winds, along with a grandly lyrical piano, sing in their chains “like the sea.”
—Gary Lemco
