The Magic of Mozart: The Viennese Piano Concertos

by Georg Predota, Interlude

The series of piano concertos Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart composed during his years in Vienna is undoubtedly his greatest achievement in instrumental music. The dozen piano concertos composed between February 1784 and December 1786 are works of the highest quality and originality. According to Maynard Solomon, “their artistry goes far beyond the concertos of his predecessors or his contemporaries in their scale, their thematic richness and their highly developed relationship between soloist and orchestra.”

Joseph Lange: Mozart at the keyboard (unfinished), 1789 (Mozart-Museum, Mozarts Geburtshaus)

Mozart essentially created a unique conception of the piano concerto as he was looking to solve the problem of how the thematic material is to be divided between the piano and the orchestra. In these later works, Mozart “strives to maintain an ideal balance between a symphony with occasional piano solos and a virtuoso piano fantasia with orchestral accompaniment.” Mozart’s solutions are non-formulaic as each concerto, although unmistakably resembling its siblings, is a thoroughly individual response.

The Viennese piano concertos are probably the most personal works Mozart ever conceived, as they were composed for his own public performances. As we commemorate Mozart’s death on 5 December, let us explore some of these most important works of their kind. 

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart sent his father the list of subscribers who paid an entrance fee of six gulden for three concerts at the Trattnerhof on 20 March 1784. “Here you have the list of all my subscribers,” he writes, “I have 30 subscribers more than Richter and Fischer combined. The first concert on March 17th went off very well. The hall was full to overflowing, and the new concerto I played won extraordinary applause. Everywhere I go, I hear praises of that concerto.”

The concerto in question was Mozart’s K. 449, and Mozart had gotten involved in subscription concerts via his colleague Franz Xaver Richter. Richter had rented a hall for six Saturday concerts, and the nobility subscribed. However, as Mozart writes, “they really did not want to attend unless I played. So Richter asked me to play. I promised him to play three times and then arranged three subscription concerts for myself, to which they all subscribed.”

Mozart suggested that K. 449 “is one of a quite peculiar kind,” and he called it a happy medium between what is too easy and too difficult. In fact, K. 499 is rather intimate chamber music with the “Allegro Vivace” exploring the tensions between the major and minor tonalities. An exquisitely expressive “Andantino” gives way to a dazzling rondo featuring much contrapuntal wizardry. 

The Piano Concerto No. 17, K. 453 is one of only two by Mozart to have been written for a player other than himself. In fact, it was written for his student Barbara Ployer, daughter of Gottfried Ignaz von Ployer, a Viennese emissary to the Salzburg court. Ployer was a fine pianist and she soon became one of Mozart’s favourite students. He also provided her with counterpoint instructions, and he asked her to come up with musical ideas of her own. Leopold Mozart was not impressed and wrote, “You want her to have ideas of her own—do you think everyone has your genius?”

Mozart monument in Vienna

The orchestration of this concerto is notable for the independence Mozart provided to the woodwinds. Clearly, Mozart could rely on a much higher standard of the orchestral winds than he had experienced in Salzburg. The prominence of the winds is dramatically demonstrated in the second movement, which opens with a serene theme in the strings that comes to a dramatic and operatic stop. This is followed by an extended episode in which the strings play backup for the solo flute, oboe, and bassoon.

The opening movement unfolds in a relaxed and almost casually expressive mood. One gorgeous melody seems to chase the next, and the contrasting theme ventures into unexpected tonal areas. Instead of the expected rondo, the finale presents five variations on a simple tune but then pauses and seemingly jumps into an entirely new movement. Barbara Ployer played the premiere in June 1784.

Mozart benefited artistically and financially from his subscription concerts. And he certainly enjoyed his time as the darling of the Viennese concert scene. The Piano Concerto No. 19 premiered in the spring of 1785, possibly one of the busiest periods of Mozart’s life as a performer. Leopold came for a ten-week visit and was struck by the level of activity. “Every day, there are concerts, and the whole time is given up to teaching, music, composing and so forth. Since my arrival, your brother’s fortepiano has been taken at least a dozen times to the theatre or some other house.”

As Alfred Brendel writes, “the first movement of K. 459 is remarkable; no other movement in the whole series of twenty-three piano concertos evinces such subordination on the part of the piano to the orchestra: purely solo passages are rare, and for much of time the solo instrument is occupied in providing an accompaniment to various sections of the orchestra, notably the woodwinds.” That opening movement, unusually, also relies entirely on one theme, a march-like melody that dominates proceedings.

The slow movement forgoes a development section and sounds like a close collaboration among the soloist, the strings and the winds. That dialogue between the instrumental forces culminates in a final coda. The sonata-rondo finale seems a fitting conclusion as it playfully takes us into the world of opera buffa. 

Mozart entered the Piano Concerto in D Minor, K. 466, in his new catalogue of compositions on 10th February 1785. It is the first of his piano concertos in the minor key. To be sure, the minor tonality adds a new dimension of high seriousness to the form, a mood immediately heard in the dramatic orchestral opening. The concerto is scored for trumpets and drums, as well as the now usual flute, pairs of oboes, bassoons and horns, with strings, and the violas divided.

Leopold Mozart was present at the premiere, and he wrote to his daughter, “We drove to Wolfgang’s first subscription concerto, at which a great many members of the aristocracy were present… Then we had a new and very fine concerto by Wolfgang, which the copyist was still copying when we arrived, and the rondo of which your brother did not even have time to play through as he had to supervise the copying.” Isn’t it amazing that in about three weeks, Mozart was able to write the most perfect and most passionate of concertos?

Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 20 autograph score

The D-minor concerto was a turning point as it was Mozart’s first “symphonic” concerto. The orchestra is given a completely equal position, and the wind parts become even more weighty. The sense of drama is evident in the large-scale orchestral introduction, and many of the piano parts would comfortably fit into an operatic seria. However, they are much more than just a beautiful melody. A noted performer writes, “Mozart probably found in D minor the threatening and demonic colouring he was looking for. A very personal statement!” 

Mozart completed his 21st Piano Concerto in C Major, K. 467, on 9 March 1785, exactly a month after the premiere of his first concerto in the minor key. Contrary to the dramatic narrative of K. 466, the C-Major Concerto is a work filled with humour that focuses on elegant simplicity. A critic reported that Mozart’s playing “captivated every listener and established Mozart as the greatest keyboard player of his day.” Leopold Mozart added that the work was “astonishingly difficult,” and it would be the last time that father and son would actually see each other.

Presently, this concerto is known as the Elvira Madigan Concerto because the use of the second movement contributed strongly to the mood of the film of that name. The work opens quietly, with unison strings setting an opera buffa stage. There is an air of anticipation as the winds once again play an important role. They initiate little fanfare, double the strings, or even capture centre stage with melodic interjections. The soloist enters with new and independent ideas and then follows its own path.

Soloist and orchestra have a unique relationship here as both forces seem primarily concerned with their own material. As Donald Francis Tovey writes, “In no other concerto does Mozart carry so far the separation between the two… Mozart has succeeded in making the piano as capable a vehicle of his thought as the orchestra.” The dream-like and elegant second movement provides for a nocturnal atmosphere, while the concluding “Rondo” returns us to the opening mood. Mozart borrowed a theme from his concerto for Two Pianos, K. 365, and the entire movement is based on that witty tune with plenty of scope for soloists and the orchestra to show their brilliance. 

Mozart completed his Piano Concerto in A Major, K. 488, on 2 March 1786. It was designed for use in a series of three subscription concerts that Mozart had arranged for part of the winter season. Simultaneously, Mozart was busy working on his first Italian opera for Vienna, Le nozze di Figaro. Yet, times had changed. Only three years earlier, the Viennese public had lavishly acclaimed the piano concertos by the young virtuoso; now, they sought musical entertainment elsewhere.

The concerts were not well subscribed, but Mozart nevertheless went ahead “believing that he could seduce the public with his unquenchable ability to come up with something new and tantalising.” K. 488 has remained popular and frequently performed as it creates a sense of weightlessness. And the role of the piano becomes even more versatile. It functions as a solo instrument and accompanies the orchestra, but it also integrates into the orchestra. In a sense, it functions as an orchestral instrument.

In his orchestration, Mozart replaced the bright-toned oboes with clarinets, providing a much darker colouration. This is particularly evident in the passionate and richly chromatic slow movement in the unusual key of F-sharp minor. However, the orchestration remains essentially intimate, as Mozart foregoes trumpets and drums. The chamber-music feeling of the first two movements is reinforced by active interchanges between the woodwinds. The soloist initiates an extensive rondo finale that has the character of a fast stretta, all ending in a buffo-like coda. 

The second piano concerto in the minor key, the Concerto in C-minor, K. 491, was completed on 14 March 1786. It is scored for clarinets and oboes, flutes, pairs of bassoons, horns, trumpets and drums, and strings. It opens with an ominous theme that Beethoven would subsequently use as the inspiration for his C-minor Piano Concerto. A sense of foreboding permeates the entire movement, disturbed only momentarily by the tranquillity of the second theme.

Piano Concerto C minor K. 491 by W. A. Mozart

The ”Larghetto” movement opens in the major key, and episodes are framed by the principle melody. However, the music is soon led into the minor key by the woodwind, and a ray of serenity returns us to the opening. Mozart concludes this masterwork with a set of variations.

Piano Concerto No. 27 in B-flat Major, K. 595

Mozart completed the cycle of twelve Viennese concertos in December 1786. He waited almost 14 months to write another piano concerto, the so-called “Coronation.” Another three years passed before he brought this grand series to a close with the B-flat Major Concerto, K. 595. To scholars, this “work stands along, not only in terms of its chronological separation from the other piano concertos but because its content and character make it unique.” It is probably the most deeply personal of all Mozart concertos.

The clearly defined drama of the minor key concertos is replaced by what has been described as “a more personal notably resigned accent” and a feeling of “subdued gravity.” Mozart gave the premiere on 4 March 1791, and it was the last such appearance before the Viennese public. Alfred Einstein wrote, “it was not in the Requiem that Mozart said his last word… but in this work, which belongs to a species in which he also said his greatest.”

Mozart’s Seven Saddest Pieces of Music

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is known for his light, elegant, joyful music. His preternaturally cheerful mood makes the times when he did write dark music stand out all the more.

Today, we’re looking at seven of Mozart’s saddest pieces of music, ranking them in a totally subjective list, from least sad to most sad.

So join us as we listen to various symphonies, sonatas, and more, and learn a bit about the stories behind each piece.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart in 1789

By 1788, a mature Mozart had begun keeping meticulously detailed records of his output. Based on his records, we know that he finished this symphony after a matter of weeks on 25 July 1788.

Although the Fortieth has a reputation for being a tragic symphony, its origins weren’t particularly dramatic: indeed, it was probably written for a concert series at a casino.

Various historians have claimed that Mozart never got to hear the work performed, but later scholarship has disproven this legend. How? Because he rewrote the woodwind parts, suggesting that he’d heard them played…or, at the very least, was revising and anticipating an imminent performance.

Although this symphony could be thought of as sad, better words to describe it might be worried, agitated, or turbulent. Mozart’s most overtly sorrowful compositions appear later on this list, which is why this one doesn’t rank higher. 

Mozart turned seventeen years old in 1773. Amazingly, he had already written twenty-four symphonies, and that October, he wrote his twenty-fifth. (By the way, legend has it that he wrote it within two days of finishing his previous symphony!)

Mozart’s 25th Symphony draws from the Sturm und Drang (“storm and stress”) movement, which was popular in European music at the time. Music in the Sturm und Drang style valued extreme emotions and subjectivity, traits that pushed back against Enlightenment Era priorities like rationalism and detached objectivity.

Mozart embodied the values of the Sturm und Drang style by writing in a minor key and employing rhythmic syncopations.

Like his other G-minor symphony above, the emotional tone here is more furious than sad. 

In the summer of 1778, when Mozart was twenty-two, he and his beloved mother, Anna Maria, were living in Paris. His father, who usually oversaw his prodigy son’s travel and career, was unable to leave Salzburg, so he sent his wife off to accompany Wolfgang instead while he micromanaged what he could via letter.

Wolfgang obeyed orders, taking on a few students, composing, and networking. In June, his mother wrote letters home complaining of tiredness and a sore throat. We don’t know for sure, but it seems likely she didn’t want to pay to see a doctor, as her husband was always complaining about money.

Anna Maria Mozart

Unfortunately, whether or not she realized it, her life was in danger, and her health deteriorated quickly. On June 30th, last rites were administered, and on July 3rd, she died. It is still uncertain what she died of, although it’s widely believed to be typhoid fever.

Panicked, Mozart prepared his father by lying to him in a letter, claiming that she was only sick, not dead. When he finally admitted the truth, his father blamed him for what had happened.

It’s not known for sure when Mozart wrote this violin sonata in 1778, but many listeners believe that it was inspired by his feelings surrounding his mother’s sudden shocking death and his father’s hurtful reaction. It is melancholy with tinges of dramatic bitterness. 

We don’t know exactly when Mozart wrote his twelfth piano sonata. He could have written it during visits to Munich or Vienna, or, most intriguingly, during a visit to his hometown of Salzburg, during which he introduced his new wife Constanze to his father…no doubt a nerve-wracking and emotional trip!

Regardless of the sonata’s origins, its second movement is deeply emotional. The opening theme is not particularly sad (it’s more wistful than anything), but as it develops, it grows more and more quietly despairing, traversing between sunlight and shadow in a deeply affecting way. 

Mozart wrote his twenty-third piano concerto two months before the premiere of The Marriage of Figaro, and opera was clearly on his mind. You can hear it in the tragic aria-like melody that he gives to the solo piano.

Interestingly, this is the only piece of music that Mozart ever wrote in F-sharp minor.

It’s interesting to remember when hearing modern performances that Mozart likely improvised details while playing the solo piano part and that this tradition of improvisation has been largely discarded. 

Mozart was twenty-six years old when he wrote his Fantasia in D-minor for solo piano. It’s a short piece: just a hundred measures, split into a few parts and hovering around six minutes. Its unexpected, unpredictable form helps contribute to the feeling of listlessness and sadness.

We don’t know why Mozart wrote this work. We do know that he didn’t actually finish it himself, as it was unfinished upon his death in 1791.

The final ten measures were likely composed by German composer August Eberhard Müller, although others like Mitsuko Uchida have stepped forward with their own endings. 

Mozart’s Requiem contains his saddest music, both for the content of the music and for the tragic story behind its composition.

In 1791, a wealthy count named Franz von Walsegg commissioned Mozart to write a Requiem in honour of his recently deceased wife. (The count also was an amateur musician who, alarmingly, wanted a work to pass off as his own.)

Tragically, Mozart died before the Requiem could be finished. He was only thirty-five years old, and to this day, we don’t know exactly what killed him.

His widow was left with two children to raise. Mozart hadn’t left enough money for her to live on, and she knew that to secure her family’s economic security, she would have to hire a composer to finish the Requiem so that she could collect the commission fee.

Franz Xaver Süssmayr, a composer and Mozart student, took on the monumental task of finishing this masterpiece. We do not know exactly what Süssmayr contributed to the Requiem, but he later claimed he wrote the Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei, which appear toward the end.

The saddest movement of the Requiem is likely the Lacrymosa (“Weeping”), which combines sorrow and splendour in equal measure. 

Between the tragic subject matter and the knowledge that it turned out to be his farewell to music, it’s our pick for the saddest music that Mozart ever wrote.

Which work do you think is Mozart’s saddest? Would you re-order our list? Let us know in the comments!

10 of the greatest opera overtures of all time

10 of the best opera overtures. Picture: Getty / Alamy

By Siena Linton & Kyle Macdonald, ClassicFM

 

From the Marriage of Figaro to Carmen, here are ten of the most memorable musical beginnings to operas.

The lights in the theatre dim and a hush falls over the buzzing excitement of the audience, as the orchestra strikes up the first note.

A good opera overture sets the scene for the drama that’s about to unfurl, bringing the audience into the narrative world and suspending their reality for the next few hours.

A great opera overture does not only that, but stands tall as a piece of music in its own right, performed in concert repertoire by orchestras around the world.

Whether you’re just starting to dip your toe into the wonderful world of opera or have a lifetime membership at Glyndebourne, here are 10 of the absolute best opera overtures of all time.

1. Verdi – The Force of Destiny

   With a main theme made famous by the “Reassuringly expensive” Stella Artois TV campaign of the 1990s, this operatic opener is indeed “Reassuringly Verdi” with the Italian composer’s customary mix of exquisite melody and thundering full-orchestra outbursts.

   The opera’s iconic theme is a sinister melody known as the fate motif. It’s a powerful, almost cinematic tune. It’s heard first in this overture and then throughout the coming opera, which explores a journey of tragedy, love and loss – with some accidental murders and curses thrown in, because it’s, you know, a Verdi opera.

   
   

2. Mozart – The Magic Flute

   At the age of 28, Mozart joined the Masonic order, a secretive organisation with a rich set of rituals and symbols that many scholars believe are evident in Mozart’s later works, The Magic Flute being one of them. The number three holds significance within Freemasonry, and the overture to this opera alone has several allusions.

   Right from the start, three chords ring out, dominated by a chorus of three trombones. The overture is even in E flat major, which has three flats in its key signature. After its stately opening, a merry flurry of strings and countermelodies follow, becoming increasingly forceful with the addition of the rest of the orchestra. All in all, the perfect set up for an opera full of evil sorcerers, sprightly bird catchers, and enchanted instruments.

3. Rossini – William Tell

   The overture that broke the mould, Rossini’s William Tell Overture escaped the clutches of the classical world and flew into the mainstream. It appeared as the theme tune for The Lone Ranger and in the soundtracks for A Clockwork Orange and The Princess Diaries, as well as influencing Rossini’s fellow classical composers, Strauss I and Shostakovich.

   Comprising four parts, the flurrying finale is the section that is best known today, often used to depict galloping horses (despite the fact that not a single horse is featured in the opera itself).

   
   

4. Dame Ethel Smyth – The Wreckers

   After five years touring Europe trying to persuade theatre impresarios to stage it, Smyth’s best-known opera The Wreckers finally received its premiere in Leipzig in 1906. Despite all her efforts, it wasn’t until the 21st century that The Wreckers was recognised for its brilliance and began to be performed more often, even taking the prime spot as the opening night for Glyndebourne in 2022, the UK’s oldest annual opera festival.

   Set in a Cornish fishing village, the overture does exactly what the libretto says on the tin. Smyth’s masterful orchestration makes full use of all the sounds of the orchestra (complete with organ!) to take the audience on a cliffside walk along the Cornish coast, breathing in the fresh sea air and gazing at the picturesque greenery before an undercurrent drags you under into a tempestuous swirl of notes and stormy timbres.

   
   

5. Beethoven – Fidelio

   Like so much Beethoven, the overture to his only opera didn’t have a straightforward compositional process. Beethoven agonised over the overture to it, composing three versions (titled Leonore Overtures, after the opera’s heroine). Then, with a name change, the breakthrough happened and we got the ‘Fidelio’ Overture.

   Beethoven’s opera is a story of righteousness, pain, imprisonment and redemption. The overture, in full Beethoven drama, gives us the darkness and light that runs throughout the opera.

6. Bizet – Carmen

   Under the scorching Spanish sun, a charming seductress uses her beguiling looks and voice to lure a naïve soldier from his post and his girlfriend. The fiery protagonist and namesake of the opera, Carmen’s motif is the last of three themes heard in Bizet’s overture.

   The first is an almost circus-like march that announces the entry of the bullfighters to the arena, followed by the main refrain from the ‘Toreador Song’ which is one of the two most popular and easily recognisable themes from the opera, alongside the ‘Habañera’. The overture ends with the Carmen motif, a sultry cello melody over tremolo strings that perfectly encapsulate her electrifying and unnerving presence.

   
   

7. Mozart – Don Giovanni

   Legend has it, Mozart left it right down to the wire to compose the overture to his opera Don Giovanni. On the eve of the premiere, Wolfgang returned to his room after drinking with friends and got straight to work, slaving over his manuscript until the early hours. Thankfully for us, and for Mozart too, the piece that emerged from his alcohol-imbued pen nib that evening is nothing short of a masterpiece, the perfect fit for an opera that includes love, heartbreak, comic relief, a statue that comes to life, and a damnation to hell.

   The overture is the perfect set-up to the ensuing drama, full of sinister strings, tolling timpani beats, and unnervingly rapid changes in dynamic, before a typically triumphant Mozartian fanfare.

8. Wagner – Tannhäuser

   A tale of lust, love and loss, Wagner’s Tannhäuser is a mighty work, chock-full of lush Romantic harmonies, ingenious orchestration, and leitmotifs galore. Not that you’d expect any less from the composer who gave us the Ring cycle.

   The overture opens with the ‘Pilgrim’s Chorus’, a slow and repentant theme played by wind and brass before being picked up by the strings, too. The strings take up a lilting countermelody to the trombones’ fanfare, lapsing into a yearning melody that represents the goddess Venus and her mystical domain.

9. Rossini – The Barber of Seville

   Gioachino Rossini was known for his nifty nib, and managed to write all the music to the entire opera The Barber of Seville in just three weeks. Well, almost. Having left the overture to the last minute, Rossini decided instead to recycle one he’d used for two previous operas. Laziness or resourceful genius? We’ll let you decide.

   Despite not bearing any relation whatsoever to the music in the rest of the opera, the Overture to The Barber of Seville is a brilliant piece of music in its own right. With a catchy main them over a softly chugging bass line, it’s a concert favourite to this day, made famous also by the 1950 Rabbit of Seville sketch by Looney Tunes, featuring Bugs Bunny.

   
   

10. Mozart – The Marriage of Figaro

    Somewhat unsurprisingly, one of the greatest operas ever written also gave us one of the greatest overtures ever written. Mozart’s comic masterpiece tells the story of a rich Count with a wandering eye, who attempts to seduce the Countess’s maid, Susanna, ahead of her wedding day, only to be taught a hard-learned lesson in fidelity by Susanna, in league with the Countess.

    While it doesn’t contain any of the themes of the opera that follows, the Overture to The Marriage of Figaro sets the scene perfectly for the playfully chaotic drama that unfurls throughout. A flurry of string and bassoon quavers are followed by a sighing woodwind motif that quickly leads into a full force fanfare, complete with timpani and brass.

Someone has made a techno-pop remix of ...

... The Marriage of Figaro – and we’re very confused

A techno mash-up of Mozart's opera The Marriage of Figaro. Picture: Ayda Classics

By Sofia Rizzi, ClassicFM London

Mozart’s opera The Marriage of Figaro gets a retro make-over in this cover of ‘Non so più’.

Classical music can be heart-breaking, awe-inspiring – and will sometimes leave you completely lost for words.

We think the latter is an appropriate description for this new-age take on Mozart’s opera The Marriage of Figaro.

So, what’s happening here?

Well, it’s a fresh – and frankly, slightly perplexing – take on ‘Non so più’, an aria sung by the character Cherubino in Mozart’s opera The Marriage of Figaro. 

One vocalist has replicated herself singing to create vocal layering in a techno-pop remix of the aria. She has added in an 80s-inspired backing band of drums, bass guitar, electric guitar and even a retro keytar (a keyboard guitar) to create a synthetic disco sound.

The vocals are layered to create a harmony on the main melodic line, and there’s even a counter-melody whose vocals are (dare we say?) reminiscent of Ennio Morricone’s The Good, the Bad and the Ugly theme.