“Hurrah, finally a bit of Mozart!” This is something you’re never likely to hear around concert halls any time soon. Mozart is ever present, and his music seems to have divided the world into two groups of people: those who like it, and those who love it. And in truth, you never really have to go far to find it, especially if you subscribe to Sir Thomas Beecham’s famous prescription of one 15-minute dose of Mozart a day. The difference in today’s fix, however, was that extra touch of class brought by a rather good-natured bunch of players.
Currently celebrating their 50th anniversary and taking a brief break from their stint at Garsington Opera, where they are immersed in Rossini and even more Mozart, period ensemble The English Concert covered three contrasting pieces at St Martin-in-the-Fields, all written within three years of each other. And on this occasion, Principal Guest Director and pianist Kristian Bezuidenhout presented Mozart not just as master craftsman full of wit and charm, but a man of real substance, profound and life-affirming.
Given the rest of the programme, it was welcoming not to get one of the usual Mozart overtures to open. The story behind Der Schauspieldirektor (The Impresario) is intriguing in its own right, and Bezuidenhout, directing from the fortepiano and with full animation, cultured a crisp yet surprisingly full sound in the work’s overture, revealing clean lines in both strings and woodwinds and hinting at the true drama yet to unfold. But it wasn’t long before we moved into more serious territory and a palpable mood change.
For Mozart’s brooding Piano Concerto no. 20 in D minor, Bezuidenhout summoned depth and intensity, paying equal attention to the subtleties of the period instrument sound to work alongside his delicate shaping, clean articulation and controlled tension on the fortepiano. There was some quite superb playing in the orchestra, sometimes sighing, sometimes growling. There was immense warmth and character in the woodwinds, serenity in the strings, and spot-on precision throughout. Bezuidenhout’s playing was hypnotic at times, and he took some wonderful liberties with rubato. There were other fine moments too, particularly in the intimate conversation of the second movement, poised but with unsettling agitation, and the rasping strings and raw aggression of the finale.
Mozart’s Symphony no. 41 in C major, “Jupiter”, one of the great classical symphonies, was given the full-on Bezuidenhout treatment, characterised by careful phrasing, free-flowing momentum and real get-under-your-skin enthusiasm. It was aided by the orchestra now standing and moving freely, almost dancing at times, and Bezuidenhout giving himself free rein to roam around the floor, leaning in towards the orchestra when he felt the urge. It was a red-blooded affair, but the clarity and sensitivity of individual lines still sang through, revealing inner detail that I hadn’t noticed in other performances. The third movement felt more like a Scherzo than a Menuetto, but it still kept its stately feel, and the finale was taken at a devilish pace, neatly held together with crisp articulation and precision, relentless and uplifting right to the end.
Regardless of which camp I’m in, this was exactly my kind of Mozart.
