Mozart's two piano quartets come from the period that saw the composition of many of his finest piano concertos, and though of course the relationship between the piano and three strings is altogether different from that between the piano and the orchestra, the actual style of piano writing in the chamber works is often very similar to his concerto manner. The use of a period piano, as here, restores to the music something of the glitter and brightness that are inevitably forfeit on the modern piano. This recording offers thoughtful and sensitive performances of the works, the G minor one in particular, whose first movement especially profits from the sound of these instruments, partly because it restores the intended balance between the string counterpoint and the piano passage-work. And in the Andante the contrasts between forte and piano, a feature of the movement, make much better sense within the limited dynamic range open to these players; it is not that modern-instrument interpreters overdo it, simply that they use their instruments—as they have to—for what they are. So I can recommend this record to those who want to hear the music in its true textures and balance.
These performances are possibly slightly low-keyed. I do not feel the Salomon players quite taking fire here as they have done in some of their recent quartet recordings; and Richard Burnett at the fortepiano, though always prompt, efficient and very tasteful, sometimes seems a little guarded and wanting in wit and sparkle. The E flat work especially I find rather deliberate and wanting in natural flow. Certainly the moderate first-movement tempo gives them time, which they use well, for subtlety of detail, yet really this is ebullient and richly lyrical music and the playing needs to be freer and more relaxed. They do both repeats here (as they do in K478 too). I find it a shade disconcerting that expressive detail is done exactly the same both times—the leap up to a high F in the piano replay of the main secondary theme a hesitant pp in the exposition, and the counterpart in the recapitulation, a surprising flattened C in octaves, a deliberate forte: some want of imagination here, surely, for expressive refinement stops sounding expressive, or refined, on identical repetition. The Larghetto might have profited too from more relaxation and suppleness, the finale from more wit. I do not want to write less than warmly about what are intelligent musicially and well-formed performances, excellently captured on disc: but this is not quite the whole truth about the music and it might be worth waiting to see what a period alternative may have to offer.'