Composer: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Born in Salzburg, Austria in 1756; died in Vienna in 1791)

Work composed: 1786

World premiere: Likely in early March, 1786 in Vienna

Instrumentation: 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani, and strings

Piano Concerto No. 23 in A Major, K. 488
I. Allegro
II. Adagio
III. Allegro assai

During the winter months that straddled the New Year of 1785-86, a particularly prolific Mozart was working on several compositions that we now consider masterpieces at the pinnacle of their genres: his great opera buffa Le Nozze de Figaro, alongside his Piano Concertos No. 22, 23, and 24. These three piano concerti were completed in time to be performed during a yearly season of special concerts that 26
occurred before Easter in 1786. Mozart almost certainly performed the solo piano parts himself, and likely conducted the orchestra from the piano as well. No. 23’s lightness of being, mixed with the kind of veiled pathos that is especially evident in its extraordinary Adagio movement, makes it one of Mozart’s most adored achievements – ever since its 1786 premiere, it has evoked exceptionally deep devotion and praise.

The first movement, Allegro, begins with two themes presented by the orchestra only. They are straightforward and lovely in a contented way. The piano then enters alone, continuing this same, gentle tone, with nothing flashy or virtuosic. At about 5 minutes into the movement, however, we hear the beginning of a cascade of musical sequences beginning in the winds, moving through the piano solo, and then to the strings. What is unique here is Mozart’s choice of instruments. Instead of the traditional set of two oboes, Mozart scores for two clarinets – a rather new instrument in the late 18th Century, and that provides a duskier hue than the double-reeded oboes. It is at this moment that we hear them clearly for the first time, and their presence in this cascading passage colors everything a little more darkly than those warmly lit opening themes. Mozart is pushing towards emotional boundaries – in fact, this motive’s key is the same as will be used for the very penetrating second movement – but here, that foreshadowed darkness is only fleeting. Soon, a cadenza flirts with light flights of fancy, and the orchestra returns with a cheery brightness. Even the darker woodwind motive from earlier returns in a lighter vein, and the final bars are tender, yet almost disarmingly lacking any bravura.

The curiously soft ending to the first movement, however, is a masterful stroke, because the beginning of this  next movement, Adagio, would otherwise seem almost too surprising. The piano begins so alone that it feels as though we have intruded into the middle of a very private and bittersweet rumination. And the key that Mozart uses here, F# minor, is unique – no other movements are cast in this key amongst Mozart’s large-scale works. From this beginning, it’s clear that this movement is an especially unique and personal expression for Mozart; nothing quite like it occurs again until the pathos captured in his Requiem, his last work. This opening piano solo wanders quietly into some very remote tonal centers (remote for Mozart, at least), and the wide, slow-motion leaps between several of its melodic intervals create a deeply unsettled feeling. Yet even in its pathos, this movement is some of the most exquisitely beautiful writing of Mozart’s career. Author John Wood cleverly termed these deeply inward forays as moments of Mozart’s “graceful rebellion” from the light-filled music that Viennese audiences sought. When the orchestra enters after the pianist’s shadowed reverie, it’s as though the curtains have been drawn back slightly, only to reveal an entire other world of hushed melancholy. A middle section, cast in a major key and more uplifting in nature, creates a counterbalance to the previous disquiet, but it, too, soon retreats inward. As the Adagio begins its last section, the piano solo and bassoon enter a magical duet, which then leads to a passage where the strings
 pluck softly on the off-beats and the piano melody is reduced to just a few long, and searching, notes – as though everything is lost in time. When the winds then join in, the Adagio comes to its end – winding down to one bar of soloist and orchestra trading whispered notes, the last two of which are the flute in its highest register.

From the very first bars, the Finale, Allegro assai (quite fast), clearly intends to distance itself from the Adagio’s pathos – it is brisk and bright and buoyant. The soloist, too, jumps in quickly with care-free runs up and down the keyboard. Especially alluring is Mozart’s writing for the winds, including the unorthodox clarinets, and the masterful interplay between the piano soloist and the winds. Mozart uses the winds effectively to venture into harmonically adventurous passages, sometimes dark, sometimes mysterious, with brief hints of drama. Even  so, the feeling of cheer in this finale prevails. Mozart skips the typical cadenza, and in the closing section, the orchestra and soloist speed headlong into joyful, final chords.