Kristian Bezuidenhout embarked on his series of Mozart piano concertos with the Freiburg Baroque Orchestra in 2012. By that time, his recording career was already in full flower. He had begun recording all of Mozart’s solo keyboard music in 2010, the same year as his epochal collaboration with Viktoria Mullova in the Kreutzer Sonata (Onyx, 9/10). The ninth and final volume of the Mozart solo works was issued in early 2016. All the Beethoven concertos with the FBO under Pablo Heras-Casado, along with the Choral Fantasy and purely orchestral works, were completed in 2020. This recording of K459 and K488 is the fifth in the Mozart concerto series.

Common to the performances of both concertos, dating from 1784 and 1786 respectively, are brisk allegros and vivid dynamic contrasts. That said, the distinct identity of each work is explored to the fullest. Mozart himself performed the F major Concerto on a number of occasions, suggesting that it must have been a personal favourite. Given the charm and vivacity infusing virtually every bar of Bezuidenhout and the Freiburgers’ performance, it’s easy to see why. In the first movement, the building of tension in the development is so perfectly calibrated that one can only marvel at the hand-in glove ensemble. The delicious conversation between soloist and orchestra in the Allegretto middle movement could be repartee overheard between two Enlightenment luminaries. And the recurrent fugatos that punctuate the Allegro assai finale seem ready to explode with joy.

Following the wit and sophistication exuded by soloist and orchestra in K459, it might seem inevitable that the A major Concerto would be a falling off, if not a downright let-down. Far from the case. The Freiburg players and Bezuidenhout seem bent on outdoing themselves and the result is as close to an ideal performance as I have experienced in a long life of listening to Mozart. Following the warm welcome of the opening Allegro, the siciliano, the crux of the concerto, is taken here at a true adagio. Bezuidenhout employs the utmost simplicity as he prefigures the course of this tragic utterance, mitigating despair with dignity. When the orchestra responds, it is as a Greek chorus combining compassion with empathy. Here, Bezuidenhout’s ornaments and interpolations, plentiful throughout the recording, are at their artistic peak. As though to dispel the heartbreak, the musicians traffic in unalloyed elation in the concluding Rondo. I urge you not to miss this.