How time passes! It doesn't seem so long ago that Daniel Barenboim made his name as a young master of the keyboard, but he is 50 this month—and Ashkenazy is five years older. Of course, his current series of the Mozart piano concertos does not supersede the ones that he made with the English Chamber Orchestra for EMI in the late 1960s and early 1970s and which, for many people, remain a first choice in this repertory. But, to use a phrase that he himself used in another context, these present discs must represent his later thoughts on music which, in any case, cannot be interpretatively exhausted by any one performance.
Perhaps not his latest-of-all thoughts, however, for the recording dates here are spread out. Indeed, No. 21 comes from sessions six years ago in November 1986, and its predecessor in D minor from February 1988, while Concertos Nos. 22 and 23 are from 1989 and only the E flat major and G major concertos (Nos. 9 and 17) were recorded as recently as last year. The location is always Berlin, but while the 1991 recordings were made in the Philharmonie's 'chamber music hall', the older ones were done in the Siemensvilla. However, all this is mainly of documentary interest since the sound is similar, as indeed is the playing style itself, Wolfgang Mohr has been the producer throughout.
I may as well say straight away that there is much to praise here. Barenboim seems to take a more direct view of Mozart than he did, and is less inclined than he was 20 years ago (at least in my view) to over-dramatize and prettify the music. Here, it speaks more for itself—although in writing that phrase I recognize the paradox that it never suffices just to play the notes and that what we look for is the art that conceals art. This is accordingly very enjoyable Mozart playing, and although ideally I would prefer that Barenboim had chosen a piano with a touch less treble brilliance, his tone is always pleasing. Similarly, while the orchestral string sound is a bit larger than I personally would choose, not least in the bass department, it remains sufficiently in scale for the music.
While on the subject of the recording, it is a good one, with fine violin sound and justice fully done to the orchestra's outstanding woodwind players. The balance between piano and orchestra is just right. I do sometimes note a few minor extraneous noises (clicks and the like), for example in the longish central Andantino of K271, but they are not enough to distract one's attention from the music. Barenboim plays this exquisite movement with a poignant delicacy, and his strong yet rounded account of the bustling rondo-finale that follows (which unusually also incorporates a slower minuet and a cadenza, here by Edwin Fischer) is a perfect complement. Indeed, he manages to play its busy fingerwork with a good measure of wit as well as the necessary dexterity—listen to his solo at 2'32'' in this movement for an example of rapid yet refined melody playing that could serve as a model for other pianists (though I still have that slight doubt about the instrument itself).
Space forbids a detailed discussion of each work. Suffice it to say that there is none that I fail to enjoy. One may query this or that detail, of course: some will think the first movement of K466 underpowered, but I cannot complain, having previously thought Barenboim too Beethovenian in this music (he still uses Fischer's version of Beethoven's cadenza, though). His way with the first movement of K453 may now be a touch didactic, but I still like it—though the slow movement and bouncily operatic variation finale are even better. The mysterious minor-mode variation in this movement is played to perfection, and the theatrical self-confidence of the return thereafter to the major no less. The famous slow movement of K467 has an aristocratic poise that moves me more than many a more obviously eloquent account, and I am thankful that K482 does not sound as militarily pompous as I've heard it from other artists.
But I must resist the temptation to expand on such individual pleasures and merely recommend collectors to listen for themselves. There's no need for comparisons this time, I feel, for admirers of Murray Perahia (Sony Classical) and Mitsuko Uchida (Philips), to name but two alternatives to Barenboim in this repertory, need not fear that they're displaced. But these new discs place Barenboim alongside them in the highest class of interpreters of Mozart's piano concertos, and demand to be owned even if you already possess other versions.'