Mozart Juvenilia Marks 200th Anniversary

Marketing-wise, things clearly have reached a crisis point in classical music when we “celebrate” a composer’s death, as will be the case in 1991, the 200th anniversary of Mozart having shuffled off this mortal coil.

The notion of today’s column, dealing with some of the most remarkable musical juvenilia in existence--and of a successor column, centering on late, instrumental Mozart--is to get the jump on ‘91, ghoulish as the whole concept may be. There is never a shortage of Mozart recordings to review, but ‘90, young as it is, has brought some Mozart so rare that we’re unlikely to meet its ilk again, even during next year’s inevitable glut.

In 1767 the 11-year-old Wolfgang, having already amassed a sizable catalogue of compositions, created the frequently written-about, never heard and, until now, never recorded sacred cantata with the resoundingly pompous title of “Die Schuldigkeit des ersten Gebotes” (The Obligation to Obey the First Commandment), K. 35.

The First Commandment, to refresh your memory, reads in the Gospel According to St. Mark, “And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.” The lengthy work--some 90 minutes, so skip as many recitatives as possible--assigns singing parts to the embodiments of Justice, the Christian Spirit, Compassion and so on, difficult characters for anyone, of any age to inspire with dramatic life. But Child Mozart succeeds, not with a stuffy, textbook exercise in religiosity but with a jolly robustness--and an already stunning gift for orchestration (his arias aren’t merely thinly accompanied songs)--one expects of a very lively boy. The skill employed, however, has nothing to do with childhood.

This recorded premiere (Philips 422 360, two CDs) respects the music while also enjoying itself. Sir Neville Marriner’s direction of the Stuttgart Radio Symphony is deliciously fleet and pointed and the vocal ensemble, headed by soprano Margaret Marshall and tenor Hans Peter Blochwitz, is first-rate.

Two additional works are appended: the “Funeral Music,” K. 42--written by the 11-year-old while shut in a room for several days by the Archbishop of Salzburg, who needed proof that Mozart’s genius wasn’t a hoax perpetrated by his composer-father--and a brief, touchingly sweet Passion song, K. 146.

Mozart’s accelerated maturity is stunningly exhibited in the 19-year-old’s “La finta giardiniera” (The Lady in Gardener’s Disguise), a comic opera with more than a few dark asides, bursting with lyric invention and insightful characterization. The ensembles in particular are rich in dramatic interplay and personal revelation--foretastes of the full-blown miracles of “Figaro” and “Cosi fan Tutte.”

The opera is overlong, even in its somewhat abridged new recording (Ricercar 06045/6/7). But there aren’t that many operas containing an hour of brilliant music, fewer still by a teen-ager. The production, recorded live last year by Ricercar at the Theatre de la Monnaie, Brussels, has since toured widely in Europe and was considered sufficiently revelatory to have been imported recently by that showplace of the artistic cutting-edge, the Brooklyn Academy of Music.

Musically, it’s a serviceable job, without the vocal ornamentation one would expect from its largely youthful, presumably willing-to-learn cast under conductor Sylvain Cambreling’s energetic but unsubtle hand. Among his singers are one reliable old pro, tenor Ugo Benelli, as the bumbling Podesta and an elegant soprano named Joanna Kozslowska in the title role. The rest of the cast rarely rises above routine, although according to Martin Bernheimer’s report in the March 19 Calendar the ensemble had become finely meshed by the time of the Brooklyn staging, eight months and many performances after this recording was made.

Now, a giant leap to Mozart in his final year, 1791: the year of “Die Zauberflote,” whose legendary 1938 Berlin recording, conducted by Sir Thomas Beecham, has just made its first CD appearance (EMI/Angel 61034, two discs). It’s one old-timer every bit as special as one remembers, although the omission of all spoken dialogue remains irksome.

The chief conjurer (in addition to Mozart himself) is Beecham, whose reading remains a model of stylish wit and whose cast--Gerhard Husch, Erna Berger, Tiana Lemnitz, Helge Rosvaenge and Wilhelm Strienz--thrillingly embodies a latter-day vocal Golden Age.