Mozart finished the Piano Concerto no. 27 in January 1791, the year he was to die. His music had fallen out of favour in Vienna, he was very short of funds, and he and his wife had been repeatedly unwell over the previous years. These uncomfortable circumstances and his imminent death prompt some performers to see the wistful lyricism, the restraint – there are neither trumpets nor drums – and the tendency to slip into minor keys in the concerto as redolent of personal suffering and a valedictory relationship to the material world. The work is then rendered with a gentle, melancholy restraint and romantic pathos.
None of that in tonight’s performance! Martin Helmchen, just a year or two younger than Mozart was when he began writing this concerto, played with life-affirming virtuosity and he confronted the distant modulations at the heart of the first movement development with unflinching courage. Far from the weak composition of a delicate constitution, Helmchen revealed in this concerto passages of Beethovenian heft, especially in the cadenzas (that Mozart wrote himself). His timing in leading from the first movement cadenza to the re-entry of the orchestra was imperious, handled to perfection. The clarity and rhythmic articulation of his fast scales and passage work, the shaping of the phrases, and the overall grasp of the form of the work, demonstrated a technical and an intellectual prowess that made this a performance to treasure.
The Larghetto second movement did not retreat into melancholy sentimentality. Helmchen kept the rhythm of the simple melody taut so as not to endanger the coherence of his interpretation. The concerto is one of Mozart’s most concise works in the economy of its melodic content. The close relation of the themes of each movement needs to be apparent for the strength of its construction to register. Helmchen’s approach was exemplary in this respect, even to the restrained pacing of the Rondo that allowed the movement to be really just another exploration of the material of the previous two movements.
The Philharmonia is always a joy to listen to, and their accompanying role was performed with great beauty, but at times I felt smaller forces and more crisply defined articulation from the strings would have been more consistent with their young soloist’s approach. The dialogues between piano and flute and oboes were breathtakingly eloquent, each seeming to listen to and respond to the other. Altogether this was a stunning first half.
The orchestra sounded very good indeed in the Bruckner, and Dohnányi had obviously put considerable thought into orchestral balance and refinement. He was also keen to keep the form of this vast work under a tight rein, and this was especially effective in the immense Finale. Dohnányi’s clear-sighted control kept it all in place and built it powerfully to the blazing coda.