Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto is most commonly coupled on recordings with the Clarinet Quintet or with a complementary concerto by another composer. Having already recorded the Quintet on an album entitled ‘How I Met Mozart’ (Aparté, 8/17), Pierre Génisson opts for a more personal programme, surrounding the Concerto with the two arias from La clemenza di Tito containing single-reed obbligatos, plus arrangements of arias (and a trio) from The Marriage of Figaro and Così fan tutte.

‘Mozart 1791’ is the title, which is only true as far as the Clarinet Concerto and the Clemenza arias (and the disc’s surprise envoi) are concerned. Nevertheless, the other excerpts are pleasing in their own right, the arrangements by Bruno Fontaine extending the range of the vocal line, exploiting the capability of Génisson’s clarinet to ornament with far greater agility than any soprano could manage.

The Concerto itself is performed in a reconstructed version for the basset clarinet, with its extension down to low (written) C, where it grumbles most satisfyingly. What is missing, though, is the ‘ring’ of the instrument’s upper range. Génisson is so keen to demonstrate the instrument’s ability to play super-pianissimos that barely register even as a whisper that he rather underplays the moments of showmanship offered by virtuoso high-lying passages. To hear a period instrument really sing out in its upper range, turn to Wolfgang Meyer (with Harnoncourt – Warner, 3/01), Anthony Pay (with the AAM – L’Oiseau-Lyre, 5/86) or Colin Lawson (with The Hanover Band – Nimbus, 7/90).

A concerto, then painted in exquisite, subtle pastels, rather than brighter hues. A shaft of sunlight in a predominantly dark, alto-register programme is provided by Karine Deshayes, imperious in the two Clemenza scenas. Génisson plays a range of instruments: a standard B flat clarinet, basset clarinets in A and B flat and a basset-horn, all pictured in the booklet. And that surprise envoi? The ‘Lacrimosa’ from the Requiem accompanied by arranger Bruno Fontaine on a Fender Rhodes, bringing something mildly hallucinogenic to this poignant piece. I have no idea why it works, but for reasons I can’t explain, it lingers long in the memory.