Wolfgang Amadè Mozart
Concerto for Piano & Orchestra No. 22 in E-flat Major, K. 482
Wolfgang Amadè Mozart (he never used “Amadeus” except when making a joke)
was born in Salzburg, Austria in 1756 and died in Vienna in 1791. He composed
this concerto in December, 1785 for one of his subscription concerts (akademies)
scheduled for soon thereafter in Vienna. But it appears to have had its
first performance a few days prior to that official debut, as a between-the-acts
interlude during a performance of Dittersdorf’s oratorio Esther,
with Mozart the soloist and—perhaps—Antonio Salieri the conductor. No
cadenzas survive. The score calls for solo piano, flute, 2 clarinets, 2
bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani, and strings. Duration is approximately
33 minutes.
*****
Mozart composed his late piano concertos to display his own virtuosity,
which was considerable. But though they were intended as crowd-pleasers—and
sometimes lighthearted ones at that—they were never trivial. Incapable
of composing mere virtuosic puffery, Mozart gave them a level of sophistication
and musical depth seldom heard in a concerto. These layers of depth are
sometimes “hidden” in plain sight: there if you wish to look for them
but otherwise subsumed in the sheer pleasure of hearing them.
The most obvious innovation in this concerto is Mozart’s original scoring
for clarinets in place of oboes. The clarinet was still a relatively new
instrument in Mozart’s day, but clearly one dear to the composer’s heart.
Another departure from the commonplace is Mozart’s concertante
writing for the winds. Now, in addition to the interplay between the piano
and the orchestra a new and colorful voice—the wind band—joins in the
conversation.
We hear this straight away as Mozart opens the first movement with one
of his two-sided themes—the first half martial, the second half lyrical.
The lyrical side is given by the horns and winds as a self-contained unit.
The lovely horn suspensions in the first statement are transferred to the
clarinets in the second, a delightful and unexpected shift in color.
As the piano enters it is with themes not heard in the exposition—and
never heard again. When the soloist does begin to treat the exposition’s
themes it is (as usual with Mozart) with added curiosity and shades of
meaning. The piano’s minor-key outburst is truly shocking; later on, Mozart
gives us little reminders of it as if to reassure us it really did happen.
The C-minor Andante that follows is simply a wonderment: halting, sighing
phrases build and recede, reaching for a solace that never comes. Out of
nowhere, in the midst of the variations on the opening theme, comes an
astonishing episode for flute and bassoons that is like a glimpse of an
alternative universe: not so much a “solution” as a parallel reality.
Mozart’s first audience demanded an encore of this magical movement, with
good reason.
The rondo Finale sends us off to the hunt with unabashed good cheer. Embedded
within it is a slower and wholly unexpected minuet-like episode led by
the clarinet—one of many surprises to come, though Mozart saves the best
one for the end.
—Mark Rohr
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