Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (156-1791)
Complete Works With Clarinet Volume 1
Serenade in E-flat No. 11, K.375
Serenade in C Minor No. 12, K.388
Serenade in B-flat No. 10, K.361 “Gran Partita”
Nicholas Baldeyrou (clarinet)
rec. 2024, Potton Hall, Dunwich, UK
Alpha Classics 1040 [2 CDs: 91]
This is the first volume of clarinettist Nicolas Baldeyrou’s project to record all of Mozart’s chamber and concertante music for clarinet on period instruments, and it’s a beauty. You can see him proudly brandishing his historically authentic instrument on the CD’s cover, and the team with which he has surrounded himself for this disc sound as though they’ve bought into his mission just as much as the man on the front. It’s telling that all of the musicians are individually named rather than grouped as an ensemble: surely they’re all friends and kindred spirits rather than a mere assemblage?
Either way, this is such an attractive sound picture that it’s impossible to resist, and the “authenticity” of the instruments makes it stand out from the honeyed homogeneity of their more modern equivalents. There’s a lovely rasp to the oboes, a homely wheeze to the clarinets, an endearing gurgle to the bassoons, and some wonderfully salty horns making up the overall picture. It’s a treat to listen to: you very much feel that this is a union of instruments and that you can hear every single one of them individually, not just as a unified whole, and that makes for a much more rounded sound picture that I found enormously appealing.
If Baldeyrou is recording all of Mozart’s clarinet works then these serenades are a great place to start, the composer’s three works for wind band in which the clarinet plays such a key part. You hear quickly, in the E-flat serenade, that the assembled troupe of period musicians make their distinctive sound in the service of the music, never for its own sake. The opening E-Flat chords sound deliciously pleased with themselves, and kick off a movement that bustles along happily, albeit without an exposition repeat (there is one in the other serenades). The Menuetto is perhaps heavier than you’d expect, but the Adagio is drop-dead-gorgeous, not least thanks to Baldeyrou’s clarinet. It has a beautiful legato on its own, and the oboes entwine with it so bewitchingly that it feels like a dance. The finale, on the either hand, has all the energy of a mischievous puppy: I defy anyone to listen to it without a smile on their face.
The C minor serenade inhabits a different universe of darkness and drama. Here it’s full-on Sturm und Drang with an extra tang of salt thrown in by the period sound, the first movement busy and decisive with a concluding to the minor that’s really quite arresting. The slow movement relaxes within itself while there is a proper acidic twang to the Menuet, and the interplay of major and minor in the final rondo is remarkably dramatic. As played like this, it feels like the tragic opera that Mozart never wrote.
But the main event is, of course, the Gran Partita, surely one of the great miracles of all music. It sounds great here, the opening broad and expansive, with a wonderful sense of settling into itself, before the first movement’s main Allegro kicks off like a jester starting a clown-car race. It’s fast, pacy, full of character and, importantly, tremendous fun. All the low down gurgling that underpins the melody feels like an intrinsic part of the sound picture, never something that you could easily ignore. On the contrary: it sounds like the piece’s engine is always humming, and that gives it a tremendously appealing sense of pace and energy. The clarinet and bassoon that lead the melody are only the first among equals: this is very much a team event, and it sounds all the better for it.
The two Menuets have a lovely swagger to their main sections, with some cheeky ornamentations often thrown in for repeats, the fourth movement sounding irrepressibly like a dance. The slow movements, transcendentally beautiful as ever, nonetheless move with a pleasing sense of pace and forward momentum, getting the job done while enjoying the view. The highlight, however, is the sixth-movement set of variations, because it gives all the instruments the chance to shine individually while creating a marvellously upbeat, irrepressibly sunny overall experience. Baldeyrou’s clarinet leads things off in the sweetest, most delectable manner imaginable, meltingly lovely throughout, even as he seems gently to poke fun, but all the other instruments take their moment in the spotlight and sound really tremendous while they do so. Even the double bass makes it’s understated impact, bubbling low while the oboe sings its gorgeous cantilena high above. It’s to die for, and the finale is an exuberant treat, with some deliciously squashed-up notes thrown into the mix to reinforce the uniqueness of the sound.
The recording is terrific, too: close-up and intimate (you frequently hear the intake of breath or the click of keys) but with just enough space to let it breathe. Bring on volume two!
Simon Thompson
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Other performers
Franck Amet, Alexandre Chabod, François Miquel (clarinet/basset horn)
Gabriel Pidoux, Hélène Devilleneuve (oboe)
David Douçot, Thomas Quinquenel (bassoon)
David Guerrier, Hugues Viallon, Antonie Dreyfuss, Anne Boussard (natural horn)
Yann Dubost (double bass)
