Mozart's Two-Headed" Concerto

That great works of music often have origins in difficult circumstances is borne out by Mozart's effervescent Two-Piano Concerto, K. 365(or 316a, in the revised numbering system). Marked by joyous, rattling clatter (when played on modern concert grands) in the outer movements and ineffable sweetness in the center movement, it stands high within a small group of works of remarkable significance in the young composer's efforts to assert himself as an individual. Its radiance masks the memories of a miserable period in the young genius' life.

At 21 Mozart was chafing at the bit to escape from his hometown, Salzburg, where he was stuck with dead-end employment in the archbishop's musical stables and where he was still subject to the authoritarian rule of his father, Leopold. Devising a plan to seek work elsewhere, the youth hassled his employer for permission to leave and (surprise!) got it. In his mother's company he embarked on a trip that would last 16 months.

In Munich, Mozart tried vainly to gain employment at the elector's court. Frustrated, he tried Augsburg, but succeeded only in having a flirtation with a pretty cousin ("We suit one another very well, for like me she is rather naughty"). At Mannheim he failed to obtain a post with the elector of Bavaria, who truly loved music ("There is no vacancy, I am sorry to say. If only there were a vacancy!"). There, the unhappy youth became embroiled in a frantic love affair with Aloysia Weber, the 15-year-old older sister of his wife-to-be, Konstanze. It almost wrecked the entire expedition.

Stern orders from his father sent Mozart packing for Paris, where he discovered that few cared about the abilities of a former child prodigy. Various odd jobs turned up--a little composing, some teaching, even the offer to be organist at Versailles (then a musical backwater worse than Salzburg)--but this illusory success was shattered by catastrophe when his mother died suddenly from a fever. Deeply depressed, his tail between his legs, Mozart had no choice but to return to the archbishop's service at home. "My heart is too full of tears," he wrote.

Although the trip had worsened the family finances and hurt the fatherson relationship, it also had its positive effect: Mozart's imagination had been fired by hearing the famous Mannheim orchestra (the best, most innovative in Europe) and by discovering in Paris a novel type of composition, the symphonie concertante. The challenges of posing two or more soloists against an orchestra evidently fascinated him. He wrote three works in the new idiom, all in the same key, sunny E-flat major, and each a delight!

One, our Two-Piano Concerto (actually written for two harpsichords), has its two parts intimately fused together and yet freely mingled with the orchestral instruments in elegant banter, as if one body had two talented heads that could sing solos and duets. Listeners will want to compare it to the two other pieces whose style it shares, the Symphonie Concertante, K. Ahn. 9, for oboe, clarinet, horn and bassoon, and Symphonie Concertante, K. 364, for violin and viola (coupled conveniently on MHS 4739H). Together with the Piano Concerto no. 9, K. 271 (also in Eflat!-MHS 4345F), they show us the miraculous individual whose abilities transcended the mundane world of personal concerns and would soon outstrip all competition.

That great works of music often have origins in difficult circumstances is borne out by Mozart's effervescent Two-Piano Concerto, K. 365(or 316a, in the revised numbering system). Marked by joyous, rattling clatter (when played on modern concert grands) in the outer movements and ineffable sweetness in the center movement, it stands high within a small group of works of remarkable significance in the young composer's efforts to assert himself as an individual. Its radiance masks the memories of a miserable period in the young genius' life.

At 21 Mozart was chafing at the bit to escape from his hometown, Salzburg, where he was stuck with dead-end employment in the archbishop's musical stables and where he was still subject to the authoritarian rule of his father, Leopold. Devising a plan to seek work elsewhere, the youth hassled his employer for permission to leave and (surprise!) got it. In his mother's company he embarked on a trip that would last 16 months.

In Munich, Mozart tried vainly to gain employment at the elector's court. Frustrated, he tried Augsburg, but succeeded only in having a flirtation with a pretty cousin ("We suit one another very well, for like me she is rather naughty"). At Mannheim he failed to obtain a post with the elector of Bavaria, who truly loved music ("There is no vacancy, I am sorry to say. If only there were a vacancy!"). There, the unhappy youth became embroiled in a frantic love affair with Aloysia Weber, the 15-year-old older sister of his wife-to-be, Konstanze. It almost wrecked the entire expedition.

Stern orders from his father sent Mozart packing for Paris, where he discovered that few cared about the abilities of a former child prodigy. Various odd jobs turned up--a little composing, some teaching, even the offer to be organist at Versailles (then a musical backwater worse than Salzburg)--but this illusory success was shattered by catastrophe when his mother died suddenly from a fever. Deeply depressed, his tail between his legs, Mozart had no choice but to return to the archbishop's service at home. "My heart is too full of tears," he wrote.

Although the trip had worsened the family finances and hurt the fatherson relationship, it also had its positive effect: Mozart's imagination had been fired by hearing the famous Mannheim orchestra (the best, most innovative in Europe) and by discovering in Paris a novel type of composition, the symphonie concertante. The challenges of posing two or more soloists against an orchestra evidently fascinated him. He wrote three works in the new idiom, all in the same key, sunny E-flat major, and each a delight!

One, our Two-Piano Concerto (actually written for two harpsichords), has its two parts intimately fused together and yet freely mingled with the orchestral instruments in elegant banter, as if one body had two talented heads that could sing solos and duets. Listeners will want to compare it to the two other pieces whose style it shares, the Symphonie Concertante, K. Ahn. 9, for oboe, clarinet, horn and bassoon, and Symphonie Concertante, K. 364, for violin and viola (coupled conveniently on MHS 4739H). Together with the Piano Concerto no. 9, K. 271 (also in Eflat!-MHS 4345F), they show us the miraculous individual whose abilities transcended the mundane world of personal concerns and would soon outstrip all competition.