This is the second of what will be the three boxes making up Trevor Pinnock's more or less comprehensive cycle of the Mozart symphonies. Called ''Salzburg Symphonies'', it includes all the symphonies Mozart wrote between the spring of 1772 and the end of 1774, his most prolific period of symphony composition, and in fact there were no more until the Paris in 1778. One might quibble: there were several earlier Salzburg symphonies and three later ones, and the symphonies Mozart made up from opera overtures are not included, nor (understandably) are those derived from the outer movements of serenades. The appealing alternative slow movement of K132 is not given. But as it stands this set gives a very good picture of the young Konzertmeister's development over a hectic three-year period of symphonic composition. It is interesting to see Mozart's phases in his treatment of the form and its scale. The first symphony here lasts 12 minutes, but by the summer of 1772 he was writing longer works (19 minutes, even 22); then, in the group that immediately followed his final return from Italy in 1773, he produced brilliant but rather inconsequential eight-minute pieces, before returning to larger-scale works after his visit to Vienna that autumn (No. 25 is 28 minutes, No. 29, early in 1774, nearly 32). Inclination, or circumstances, or influences?—we simply don't know since we have no information about the context of the performance of any of Mozart's symphonies at this period.
Trevor Pinnock's are the first period-instrument performances of most of these works (excepting the rather eccentric Koopman versions of a few of them) since Christopher Hogwood's pioneering recordings of the late 1970s and early 1980s. The excitement, or perhaps shock, that we then felt, on hearing from the Academy of Ancient Music the lively tempos, the crisp articulation and the clear textures of which period instruments are capable is of course a thing of the past, but techniques of handling these instruments have improved greatly over the last decade, and what I find exciting about this set is, rather, the sweetness of the sound (not at all the same as the sweetness of a modern chamber orchestra) and the suppleness and flexibility The English Concert are able to bring to the music. They are quite a small band, strings 5.4.2.2.1 for the earlier works, 6.6.4.3.2 for the later ones. They plays much of the time, as if it were chamber music m my notes I find I have commented particularly on their playing of second subjects—the lyrical passages, that is, where they shape the phrases with a warmth and refinement you hardly expect in orchestral music. Listen for example to the lyrical sections in the first movement of K129, or the finale of K134, or perhaps particularly the first movement of K202, where their timing is quietly witty, yet not at all contrived or artificial: it is the sort of expressive refinement that depends on listening to one another, not on the presence of a conductor. Or there are the sighing appoggiaturas in the Andantino of K130, the expressive warmth of the Andante of K128, the delicate placing in the Andantino movements of K199 and 182.
There is large-scale playing too. The opening of the brilliant D major work, K133 has a splendid swing, with its prominent trumpets, and a real sense of a big, symphonic piece. K184 is duly fiery and its accents are neatly judged. The spirited playing and full sound in K130—with four horns, and flutes (vice oboes) adding softness and warmth to the texture—is particularly telling. Another exciting first movement is that of K129, with its big crescendos and energetic tuttis. Once or twice I wondered if Pinnock was apt to drive the rhythms slightly: the first movement of K132, or that of the G minor work, K183 (though perhaps there it is justified and in the finale the dynamic and textural contrasts are very happily managed). Trouble has been taken to make accompaniment figures clear and telling. The brief and rather superficial symphonies of spring 1773 are pretty briskly dispatched, but that is how it should be, and the delightful oboe playing of Paul Goodwin is a saving grace in K181. The two final symphonies, which fill the fourth CD, are both very impressively done: an eloquent rather than a fiery account (though something of that too) of the opening movement of K201, with a particularly euphonious and shapely Andante, and the finales of both are done with exceptional vitality and the rhythmic resilience that is characteristic of these performances.
In short, these seem to me quite outstanding performances, unfailingly musical, wholly natural and unaffected, often warmly expressive in the slow music and always falling very happily on the ear, with no trace of the harshness that some people think is inevitable with period instruments. They are excellently recorded, with the properly prominent wind balance helping to characterize the sound-world of each work. These are certainly the Mozart symphony recordings I shall want to hear most often in the future.'