''Too many notes, my dear Mozart'', said the Emperor Joseph II—well, he probably didn't in reality, but the apocryphal story could have been true, for Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail does have a lot more notes than any of the other Singspiels given at the Vienna Burgtheater about that time. It must have seemed difficult and bewildering to the early audiences, who went in expectation of something much simpler. But, like most of Mozart's music, it grew on them, and indeed it widened Mozart's reputation more than did any other of his operas during the 1780s; and its thicker musical fabric has certainly proved a lot more durable than the shoddy cloth of the Umlaufs and the others who supplied the repertory of the German National Singspiel.
I am provoked to such thoughts on this familiar, lovable and wonderfully spirited work by hearing it, for the first time on records, in something close to its original colours (I do not believe the Harnoncourt version on Teldec/Warner Classics truly offers that). It makes a difference, but not a critical difference: that is, the distinction is instantly discernible but does not of itself determine whether this recording is to be preferred to others. The size of the orchestra and the way it is balanced ensure that the woodwind writing makes its points; even after numerous hearings of the opera, in the theatre and on records, I have never been quite as aware of the richness, variety and allusiveness of the score as I was this time. Christopher Hogwood uses a string band of 7.6.4.3.3, and favours a fairly slender, pared-down tone from the violins, leaving plenty of room for the wind (and in this he is much helped by the characteristically creative contribution of the Decca producer Peter Wadland—the presence of his keen ear, as in the Da Ponte triptych he recorded with Ostman, is always telling). The score comes over with much stronger, more individual character here than it does in a 'modern' performance, where, when the chief emphasis tends to be on the expressiveness of the first violin line, the quirkiness of the scoring of individual numbers accordingly tends to become ironed out.
If you are expecting here the rapid tempos that distinguish the Ostman recordings you may be disappointed. Hogwood's speeds are mostly quite conventional, livelier, to be sure, than you would expect from a conductor of the last generation, but at times quite measured and allowing the soloists the room they need. The first number, Belmonte's ''Hier soll ich dich denn sehen'', is decidedly leisurely, and Uwe Heilmann takes full advantage of it, especially in his delicate singing at the end—his is a fresh, young-sounding voice, handled very surely and attractively, and with the proper Mozartian blend of the lyrical with a hint of the heroic: there is some lovely hushed singing in ''O wie angstlich'', done with a feeling of spontaneity and altogether an unusual and moving interpretation, while the difficult later arias, which can floor quite accomplished tenors, have no fears for him: ''Wenn der Freude Tranen fliessen'' is airy yet ardent, ''Ich baue ganz'' elegantly sung at a relaxed pace (and how delectably it is scored).
Opposite Heilmann is that appealing artist Lynne Dawson, who sang Konstanze (much less confidently) when Hogwood conducted the opera at Sadler's Wells, in London, a few years back. There is a real glow to the voice, and a natural fullness and warmth; she has the necessary ''flexible throat'' (I quote Mozart) for ''Ach, ich liebte'', suggests real depths of desolation in her spacious account of ''Traurigkeit'', and sings fearlessly and grandly in ''Martern aller Arten'' (reservations here, however, about the paucity of appoggiaturas and about Hogwood's interpretation, as rallentandos, of the admittedly enigmatic ad libitum markings in the orchestral ritornellos). I enjoyed the spirited and shapely singing of the Blonde, Marianne Hirsti. There are good things too in the Pedrillo of Wilfrid Gahmlich, notably some graceful phrasing in ''Frisch zum Kampfe!'', but I did find the Romance, ''Im Mohrenland'', disappointing because his intonation seems fallible, especially on the higher notes, which often flatten. Then there is the fine Osmin of Gunther von Kannen, the bottom register fine, full and clear, the rhythms and the articulation beautifully spruce, the words well used; he manages to relish the music and the text without ever resorting to empty clowning, as Osmins are apt to do.
A few general points. The dialogue is included, of course, but reduced by about half; the cutting is carefully done and the result seems to me perfectly satisfactory for a recording. There is piano continuo, adding a certain colour, wholly convincingly, to the sound of the orchestra. The recently redis- covered march is included; one can understand why Mozart might have dropped it. The piccolo pierces the orchestral texture in the 'Turkish' music in splendid fashion. The expressive climax of the whole work, the beginning of the supposed farewell scene for the lovers, seems to me slightly wanting in warmth from the orchestra; Hogwood places the accents sharply and the playing is very precise, but the moment's depth is not quite realized. Yet this is soon forgotten in the duet that ensues, where Dawson especially conveys the rapt blend of visionary joy and tragic feeling as the lovers look forward to death together.
This is, I think, the Entfuhrung I would choose above all. The opera has been only moderately served on records in the past, to my mind—I have enjoyed Sir Colin Davis's Philips version the most, but the singing is by no means consistently distinguished. Harnoncourt's I find arresting but contrived and mannered and ultimately not very musical. Hogwood's is a fine achievement which enlarges our understanding of the work and our affection for it.'