Wolfgang Amadè Mozart
Symphony No. 30 in D major, K. 202
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 work in 1774; though it was likely performed in Salzburg the same year, the circumstances are unknown. The score calls for 2 oboes, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, and strings.

*****

This symphony could easily carry the subtitle “The Forgotten,” as it is routinely passed over in favor of the ones we all know and hear quite often. This is partly because of the nefarious conclusion drawn by some critics and biographers: coming as it did right after the G minor Symphony K. 183 (the first symphony in the Sturm und Drang Style) and the A major Symphony K. 201 (a very serious symphony that remains as one of his more familiar early symphonies), this work is quite obviously a “step backward” for Mozart.
This is an intellectual stolen-base: it assumes that a composer’s output is one unbroken chain of increasing seriousness, or even depth; it also assumes that a bit of frivolity ought to be unexpected from an eighteen year-old composer who has already shown us “Great Things”.

Nonsense; Mozart composed symphonies for a variety of reasons and uses. Sometimes a symphony would act as an overture to a concert of other works—a call to attention for a rowdy crowd or on other occasions it might be the center of attention itself. The symphonic form itself had not yet become the imposing monument we’re inclined to take it for today.

Far from it; the first theme of this symphony begins with a lightly decorated descending triad that finishes with a little trill. The theme goes on to round itself off with a bit longer trill. Later on, out of nowhere, a more boisterous trill rudely interrupts the lyrical second theme. By the end of the exposition trills are everywhere you look. Comic? Absolutely!

The Andante con moto is for strings alone, exquisitely simple but musically rich in its masterful polyphony; this is the simplicity that descends from craft. The Menuetto seems stylish enough for the ballroom, but surprising little minor-key diversions keep us a bit off-balance.

The Finale opens with a new variation on the descending triad that began the symphony, this time with a rhythm that pervades the movement. This is a typically two-sided Mozart theme: the serious martial triad is followed immediately by a lighthearted staccato passage. The second theme is flowing, and sets up an enjoyable interplay between winds and low strings. If the stormy development makes you suspect you’re being set up, you’re right: when Mozart’s coda sounds as if it’s heading for a big conclusive flourish, he serves up a delightful surprise instead—and leaves the stage with a wink.