Frans Bruggen's version of the Prague Symphony may not be to everyone's taste, but it is certainly full of character and ideas. It begins with a dramatic, indeed formidable account of the slow introduction, the violins delicate, almost frailsounding in their piano music, the tuttis dark and menacing with the dry, brittle thwack of the period timpani coupled with the very special quality of scoring Mozart developed in his late orchestral writing. Bruggen adds to the drama, perhaps misguidedly, by not just double-dotting (as Mozart wrote) but actually triple-dotting the violin figure (bars 28–31) approaching the lead up to the cadence. The main Allegro is strongly propelled, but Bruggen clearly does not mind risking loss of momentum in order to make expressive points. He takes the lyrical part of the secondsubject music in a quite relaxed way, giving it plenty of time and phrasing it with due warmth this worries me less than the little diminuendos he uses at the major cadences (for example bars 70 and 94), which seem to me emasculating and demonstrably not what Mozart wanted (look at the horn dynamics in bar 71). The development is done powerfully, almost aggressively—though here too there are one or two odd details (like the legato violins in bar 167 and parallel passages) that consort oddly with his broad conception. But the big climax at the end is very fine, even if one wishes for more string tone than this modest band offers: salutary to remember that Mozart may have had only three violins each side at the original performances in Prague!
The Andante flows agreeably with a gait that seems to anticipate Beethoven's pastoral brook. One could argue that Bruggen doesn't take quite enough time here and that Mozart's rapidly changing harmonies, at some points in the movement, need a little more room to make their effect indeed to justify themselves, some may think the performance expressively a shade superficial. The stress on the first of the pair of quavers just before (and after) the double bar may seem slightly mannered. The finale goes best of all, at a good, lively tempo and with no want of excitement, again the counterpoint in the development is powerful and thrusting. I am not wholly convinced, after this performance, that Bruggen is wholly on terms with Mozart's emotional world; but it is extremely well played, and overflowing with vitality. The performance is altogether more consciously characterized than Hogwood's with the AAM (on L'Oiseau-Lyre). It is preceded by an account of the Figaro Overture that is strong in rhythm and interesting in detail, and gains as indeed does the symphony—from a balance that allows plenty of prominence to the wind, including the brass and also the timpani.'