The inclusion of the Busoni cadenza in K488 instead of Mozart's own will alert everyone to the obvious point that this is not a regular version of the concerto to be corraled and compared with any others. That the coupling is a sonata and not another concerto equally separates it from the general run. Look at the list of performers, and you see the reason. Vladimir Horowitz, incomparable wizard of the keyboard, is a law unto himself—more than ever so in his freewheeling eighties—and what a compelling law it is. His is the opposite of a lace-doiley view of Mozart, simply the personal view of two Mozart masterpieces by one of the most powerful and magnetic pianists alive.
That he can so convincingly put the sonata alongside one of the supreme concertos is a tribute to that magnetism. I have long thought the B flat Sonata, K333, one of Mozart's finest, far less appreciated than the A minor, K310 or the C minor, K457, and Horowitz's purposeful reading gives it extra stature. The minor-key drama of the development section in the first movement makes one welcome his decision to observe the second-half repeat. One positively wants to hear it again. With both repeats in the slow movement observed too, the whole work in time-length outlasts the concerto. It is the finale with its full concerto-like cadenza after a 6/4 chord which brings the most characteristic Horowitz display. There he contrasts the light jauntiness of the main theme with the often jagged development passages, relating that to the extra development of the cadenza in a dazzling display.
The concerto is hardly less memorable. After a lively yet well-behaved account of the opening tutti from Giulini and the Scala players—a full-bodied but modest-size band set comfortably in a smallish chamber—the individuality of the soloist is then established the moment the piano bursts in. The orchestra, till then well-focused as the sole object, are suddenly withdrawn behind a piano that sounds as though it was recorded in a different studio. (It certainly wasn't: I attended one of the sessions myself.) Not only is the piano separated, Horowitz himself by his rhythmic freedom at the start establishes his total primacy. Follow me, he is saying, rushing ahead of the beat when he feels like it, showing off.
Much of the pianism is magical, and it all leads surprisingly convincingly to the Busoni cadenza, which much to my amazement I actually enjoy in this unrepeatable context, not by any means too long (only 70 seconds) and full of delightful virtuoso conceits such as a great Mozartian like Busoni would have dreamed up. I wouldn't want to hear it often, but Mozart's own cadenza in this instance is suspiciously short and simple, lending weight to Horowitz's contention that it was written for a student not very advanced, and Mozart himself would have wanted to make much more of a display. In the latter-day manner Horowitz takes the great F sharp minor Adagio movement at a flowing speed, not slow or sentimental, more an Andante, and some of the passagework is delightful with one or two attempts at melodic elaboration. As in the sonata the finale finds Horowitz most at home. In principle it is too heavy-handed a reading, but the joy and exuberance of the playing satisfyingly round off the great virtuoso's unlikely Mozartian outing. This is plainly not a record for Mozartian purists, but even those who resisted the Mozart sonata (K330), which Horowitz included in the first of his DG recital records (419 045-1GH; CD 419 045-2GH, 5/86) will, I predict, find far more to enjoy here. I shall be fascinated to see the film made during the sessions. This is unashamedly a star vehicle, but little harm in that with such a figure as Horowitz.'