'Storm and Stress’ is a useful phrase to describe the emotional world explored by German-speaking composers in the latter part of the 18th century; though, as Ian Page points out in his excellent booklet note, the movement was a literary one that took its name from a play written in 1776 by Maximilian Klinger. Vols 1 and 2 of this series were warmly welcomed by David Threasher (5/20, 11/20): this is a superb follow-up.

Mozart composed the Fugue, originally written for two pianos, in 1783. Five years later he transcribed it for strings and added the Adagio. Page emphasises the Baroque nature of the piece with fiercely dotted rhythms, and hammers out the repeated notes of the fugue subject: absolutely gripping.

The excerpt from Anton Schweitzer’s Alceste, written for the Weimar court in 1773 to a libretto by Christoph Martin Wieland, comes at the very beginning of the opera. King Admetus is ill; his wife Alcestis is waiting for a judgement from the oracle at Delphi. The recitative, part secco, part accompagnato, leads to a Metastasian metaphor aria, her life compared to a boat tossed between cliffs. Emily Pogorelc matches the violent syncopations in the strings and sings tenderly in the contrasting middle section. There’s more violence in the number from Annibale in Torino (1771), an opera appropriately premiered in Turin. Giovanni Paisiello is best known for Il barbiere di Siviglia (1782), to which Mozart’s Figaro (1786) is clearly indebted. But Annibale is no comedy. An accompanied recitative encloses a brief cavatina as the horrified Adrane witnesses Artace escaping from Hannibal’s forces by leaping off a bridge. The ensuing aria, in G minor, is full of broken phrases and manic descending scales, which Pogorelc dispatches with brilliance and fire.

Leopold KoŽeluch’s symphony, the fifth of 11, was published in 1787. It’s in the same vein as Haydn’s Symphony No 39 (included in ‘Sturm und Drang, Vol 2’), which is also in G minor. The first movement goes suddenly quiet before the end; there are poignant suspensions from the oboes in the Adagio. The Presto finale is vigorous, with dramatic pauses, sudden dynamic contrasts and no let-up. Page and his players give it their all.

Finally, Haydn’s Trauer (‘Mourning’) Symphony (c1771). As with some others written around the same time, including No 52 and the earlier No 49, all the movements of this symphony are in the same key, minor or major. Page observes all the repeats, including second time round in the Menuetto. The tightly controlled energy of the Presto finale is breathtaking. Only in the Adagio did I find the pacing a bit dogged.

Ian Page and his orchestra are wonderful advocates for this powerful music. There are four more ‘Sturm und Drang’ recordings to come: I hope one of them will include Haydn’s Symphony No 47, a work of genius that deserves to be better known. And readers might like to investigate the complete recording of Schweitzer’s Alceste by Concerto Köln, conducted by Michael Hofstetter (Berlin Classics, 7/08).