Nikolaus Harnoncourt usually manages to produce some surprises even in quite familiar works. In the opening item here, the March that introduces the Serenade, he insists that we amply hear the curious horn and trumpet calls that Mozart has tucked into the texture and that usually, with modern instruments and standardized dynamics, simply disappear into it. Here, with period instruments—which in particular means brazen brass—and Harnoncourt's readiness to heighten one line at the expense of another, they truly ring out: and quite possibly that is just what Mozart intended. The effect is remarkable. I mention this small point because it so typifies Harnoncourt's approach. In the exquisite sixth movement of the Serenade, one of those slow movements where Mozart establishes a world of delicate, sensuous sound with muted strings and a gently murmuring accompaniment, Harnoncourt takes his brass forte chords (and especially the one that is marked fortissimo) very seriously: I am not quite convinced that Mozart meant the atmosphere to be quite so comprehensively shattered.
The detail that Harnoncourt picks upon is not always obviously significant, but he does make us hear it afresh. In the first movement of the Serenade, for example, the dynamics seem exaggerated to me, falling well beyond a range of sound proper to Mozart (and if one chooses to use period instruments, that is presumably a concern). But certainly the quick movements have plenty of vitality. This is one of the serenades that incorporates what is more or less a violin concerto. The soloist, whom I take to be the leader, Erich Hobarth (ungenerously, the booklet gives no specific credit), plays in shapely fashion, especially in the opening slow movement, though some may find the tone rather edgy and in the trio of the ensuing minuet a touch of wit in the timing might have been apt.
The symphony—the recording offers an instructive comparison between Mozart's serenade and his symphony styles, with these two works, in the same key, written 15 months apart—is a three-movements-in-one piece, the middle movement consisting largely of an oboe solo (the playing seems a shade lifeless), the outer ones in a lively and rather formal D major manner (the finale is taken decidedly briskly here). I cannot say that I really find these performances, often abrupt in manner, and in a curious way unsympathetic, entirely to my taste; but Harnoncourt's voice is an interesting and original one and it deserves to be heard attentively.'