Virgin are generous indeed in offering Mozart's last three violin sonatas (if we except the Sonatina, K547) on a single disc—and there's no skimping of repeats either. Whatever my reservations about the performances, hearing the three sonatas in close succession had me marvelling at the subtly differing relationships between the instruments from work to work, and at the endlessly inventive textures Mozart devises within this relationship. The Sonata, K454, written for the Italian virtuoso Regina Strinasacchi, often sounds like a finely wrought double concerto without orchestra, the violin enjoying a brilliant parity with the keyboard. In contrast, the violin's role in the outer movements of K481 tends to be more discreet, though no less artfully contrived. With K526, arguably the greatest of all the sonatas, the status of the instruments is again absolutely equal; but virtuosity is here balanced by a new concentration and economy of manner, with the dialogues and sallies of K454 giving way to more closely woven, sometimes contrapuntal textures. One feature the three works share is an uncommonly inward, harmonically searching slow movement: that in K526, the most far-reaching of them all, is a sparer, bleaker counterpart to the Adagio of the contemporary G minor String Quintet.
This new recording is, to my knowledge, the only CD version of any of these works on period instruments. The fortepiano, a modern copy of a 1785 Heilman instrument, has an agreeably light, nutty timbre and combines with the gut-strung violin, played with minimal vibrato, to create textures that are altogether sharper and drier than we are used to hearing in this music. There is, of course, no danger of the violin being overwhelmed by the fortepiano, as it sometimes can be by an iron-framed modern instrument. In fact, any overwhelming here comes from the violinist, who often seems to me too loud, obtruding when he should adopt a courteous accompanying role—the repetition of the opening theme in K454's Andante is one case among many; more a question of Schroder's playing, I suspect, than the recorded balance. Even with this proviso, I can't say I find Schroder's actual timbre very appealing: to my ears it often seems hard and unvaried, liable to excess acidity in alt. and not always truly in tune.
Though my reaction to the quality and relative volume of Schroder's tone hardly made for unalloyed enjoyment, I did appreciate some of the music-making on this disc. The players bring a strutting elegance to the theme of the finale of K481, for instance, and a vital characterization to each of the following variations; and they are impressively integrated in the opening movement of K526, which is lithe and purposeful, its frequent cross-rhythms incisively pointed. At times, though, vigour can veer towards harshness, as in the first movements of K454 and 481, with their over-explosive accents and want of grace in the lyrical music (the dancelike closing subject in K454 is too loud and hectoring from Schroder). Both artists are clearly aware of the profound issues at stake in the slow movements, and there is some perceptive and affecting detail here, especially from Orkis in the Andante of K526. But the Adagio of K481 is weighed down by too many self-conscious-sounding ritardandos, while the Andante of K454 lacks breadth of phrasing, with Schroder tending to lean, baroque-style, on the first beat of the bar.
This won't, then, be one of my Mozart bicentenary discs, despite the abundance of superlative music on offer. But if you want these three works on period instruments you'll find some positive and thoughtful playing here, with an accomplished, often stylish contribution from Orkis; and your ears may respond more favourably than mine both to Schroder's timbre and to his general dominance of the proceedings.'