Magnificent Mozart!

Program Notes

 Mozart’s years in Salzburg produced some of this miraculous composer’s most memorable compositions. Even at age 23, this remarkable individual was creating works of genius far beyond that of any of his peers—works which today still astonish for their precociousness, ingenuity, and almost impertinent mastery.

 This is music of a manic intensity. Why may this be so?

 Vesperae solennes de Dominica, K. 321

 Mozart’s Vespers are among the very last music for the church that he wrote while in residence at Salzburg. Archbishop Colloredo had required that Mozart not repeat text, keep his church music free from unnecessary effects, and always be subservient to the liturgy. For a composer of Mozart’s gifts of expression, this must have been extremely difficult. There was precious little room for his creative imagination to take flight. Perhaps as a result of these constraints, he focused all of his energies straight forward, and attempted to project all his pent-up energy toward rapid declamation of the text. It must have rankled him sorely, and I firmly believe that some of that frustration is audible in the impassioned excitement of much of this work. This is not to say that these works ever veer into coarseness or mere nervous energy. That rarely if ever occurs in this composer’s music. There is palpable pressure, but always concentrated in a firmly muscular and life-affirming direction.

 The Dominican Solemn Vespers is such a forbidding sounding title that many lovers of exuberant choral music by Mozart may be put off from sampling this most delicious of Mozartean feasts. But behind this title awaits one of the sunniest and most highly-concentrated of Mozart’s Salzburg choral works and one of this composer’s most spectacular soprano “concert” arias. Name notwithstanding, this extraordinary work, which unfairly languishes in the shadow of its better-known later twin—The Solemn Vespers of the Confessor—provides the model for the subsequent setting, yet yields nothing in spectacular choral energy and dramatic effect. One might argue that the later setting of Laudate Dominum offers greater sublimity than the joyous and festive setting it is accorded here. But once heard, the Dominican Vespers rightly demands “equal time” from its performers and audiences.

 The work begins without introduction, and plunges headlong in medias res. The first Psalm (109) begins in a radiant C major and is distinguished by vigorous declamations from both orchestra and chorus. Two fermate provide dramatic though brief respite at key points in the text, and with abundant word painting and an admirable economy of means we’re energetically carried to the end of the first chorus.

 Again without introduction, the second Psalm (110), set in E minor, begins at a more deliberate tempo with soprano solo answered by a very interesting triadic choral crescendo, complemented shortly by sequential falling sixteenth notes from the strings. Solo voices provide a calm moment near the middle, only to be interrupted by a forte/fortissimo choral interjection reminding us on a frightening unison of the “...terribile nomen ejus.” The movement closes quietly, but retains its pervasive agitato feeling to the last note. The third Psalm (111) takes off with unflagging energy in B-flat major and throughout is filled with the most extraordinary variety of dramatic and dynamic contrasts. Soloists regularly engage in animated dialogue with the chorus, but it’s left to the chorus and orchestra to bring the movement to its affirmative “Amen.”

 Laudate Pueri, the next Psalm (112), is set in a sunny, bright F major stile antico imitative counterpoint, unlike its subsequent setting in Mozart’s Solemn Vespers of the Confessor which is set in D minor, quasi-modal harmony, and distinguished by intervals of a falling seventh. Here the mood is palpably more upbeat, yet no less effective. Key phrases of the text are illuminated and underscored by powerful choral homophony.

 Psalm 116, Laudate Dominum, is set in A major as a brilliant Neapolitan-style concert aria for soprano solo, its high-spiritedness enhanced with a frisky organ obbligato.

 The bold and festive Magnificat in C major begins in slow tempo with themes and orchestration reminiscent of the much later Die Zauberflöte. Extrovert subito pianissimi for both chorus and orchestra twice interrupt the first word of the text, an effect which surely must have raised not a few Salzburgian ecclesiastical eyebrows! A vigorous interjection by trumpets and timpani brings us briskly back to earth, and we embark upon an extraordinary finale which, with its bustling strings and heightened dramatic writing for chorus and solo voices, could just as well be the close of an opera buffa. The action is soon interrupted by powerful unisons which lead to the Gloria, which is highlighted by further buffa effects such as sudden string fortepiani and playful downward violin arpeggi. And as in the best of opera finales, everything begins to converge, and with brilliant unisons for orchestra and chorus combined at the text “Amen,” this marvelous work comes to an emphatic and life-affirming close.

 Mass in C, “Coronation” K. 317

 “Manic intensity” certainly describes much of Mozart’s brilliant Mass in C, K. 317. There is hardly a moment of rest for the chorus and orchestra in this brief and ingenious work—both are kept fully-occupied throughout. The moments of repose are all that much more impactful as they occur between “brackets” of extraordinary energy. The opening Kyrie reveals Mozart’s intentions which will be heard in similar form throughout the entire composition: contrast between lyric and martial elements. After the energetic but slow-paced and “introductionless” choral Kyrie, the soprano soloist intones a memorable, melodic Kyrie of her own, immediately answered by the other soloists, who later append the Christe. The chorus then returns with its martial reply and the movement ends quietly, but with an orchestral reprise of the soprano soloist’s melody at the very end.

 The Gloria and Credo which follow offer up so much life-affirming rhythmic vitality that Colin Davis once, in a rehearsal of this work with the Boston Symphony, shook his head and muttered in wonderment “...appalling adolescent energy!” And indeed, these two movements fly with headlong abandon through their texts. One wonders whether Beethoven knew this score—his Missa Solemnis makes analogous demands of energy and agility of its performers in its parallel movements. The ensuing Et incarnatus stops time in its tracks as, with extraordinary downward spiraling violin figures, Mozart illustrates the descent from heaven of the Holy Spirit to Mary. The Crucifixus which follows is as dramatic as one might hear in any of this composer’s great operas, with its pulsing low trombone and double-bass and the chorus’s spat-out “Pontio Pilato.” The benign violin figure just heard has suddenly become dark and threatening. The oboe weeps disconsolately with the chorus’s description of Christ’s suffering. And finally, with a whisper, the chorus tells of His entombment. This verbal description may seem a bit “purple,” but listen to the music—it’s all there.

 The resurrection abruptly interrupts—another possible model for Beethoven’s Missa?—and this remarkable Credo proceeds to its conclusion with one more dramatic surprise—the temporary darkening of mood at the text referring to the resurrection of the dead, which in turn is instantly brightened as immortal life is promised. And at the very end, as a final “exclamation point” for further emphasis, Mozart repeats the Credo’s opening text: “I believe in one God.”

 No rest here, as a brilliant Sanctus and Osanna call once again for full energy from the chorus and orchestra. Even the charming Salzburg music box-like Benedictus for the solo quartet is twice interrupted by the exuberant chorus as if the singers simply can’t contain their exultation.

 At last, repose is achieved in the exquisite Agnus Dei for soprano solo. Perhaps the best-known music from this Mass, much of its consoling melodic material will later be heard in Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro as the famous aria ‘Dove sono.’ At a dramatic fermata, the soprano reprises her opening Kyrie melody but with “Dona nobis pacem.” The chorus, which has quietly savored these beautiful moments, reappears in a bright new tempo and proudly affirms, with abetting trumpets and drums, that peace indeed shall be given, and prevail.

 ~ Program Notes © 2023 by John W. Ehrlich