What is it that makes the art of Mozart interpretation such a minefield? I have puzzled over this for many years and come to no satisfying solution. Perhaps it is that his style was classical, with baroque trappings, essentially of the eighteenth century, yet the feeling of the music is so often forward-looking into the romantic era, in some sort of contradiction with the mode of expression. Yet one can say the same of Haydn, about whom there are fewer difficulties. So perhaps part of the trouble lies in the unfathomable mystery of Mozart's personality, that strange secretiveness, with its mixture of passion and chilliness, that (to my ears) haunts and bedevils the music at every turn.
I envy the ease with which some of my colleagues can identify the good and the bad in Mozart interpretation. Sometimes, in spite of all the runes, it is as well to trust to instinct and that is what I have done with these Bernstein performances. I have not listened to them score in hand, making notes on an extra-expressive ritardando here, an exaggerated sforzando there, but have listened as most of those in the hall listened. For these are live performances recorded a year apart in Vienna.
What is at once evident is the truth of Bernstein's 'love-affair' with the Vienna Philharmonic. The rapport in these performances is almost tangible—and probably was visible. They phrase lovingly for him, they produce a soft and caressing piano string tone (though the recording is not always kind to the upper register) and the woodwind are mellifluous indeed. I like these interpretations. They are so musical and so tuned in to Mozart's genius. In the Prague one expects the Don and Leporello to join in at any moment, and the finale of the Linz is agleam with festive light.'