Bassoon Concerto in B flat, K.191

Opinions differ as to just how many bassoon concertos Mozart actually wrote. But, since only one such work definitely attributable to Mozart is known to exist, the question is largely academic. If Baron Dürnitz, an amateur bassoonist he met in Munich in December 1774, really did commission three concertos - as some authorities believe, though on little evidence - this Concerto in B flat, which was written in Salzburg six months earlier, cannot be one of them. Whatever its history, it is one of the earliest Mozart scores regularly heard in the concert hall. If it is not as inspired as the even earlier motet Exsultate, jubilate, K.165, it is still a remarkable work for a composer of eighteen - not least for his accomplishment in the art of making the soloist seem much the most imaginative musician in the ensemble.

Neither of the two main themes presented in the orchestral introduction to the first movement - a businesslike statement on horns and strings in the opening bars and a contrastingly playful idea on violins - is very interesting in itself. But when the bassoon makes its long-awaited entry with the first theme it immediately expands its scope with one of those wide upward leaps that are to be a prominent feature of the solo part in all three movements. There is a more striking example of that technique, covering more than two and a half octaves between the bottom register and the top register of the instrument, a few bars later. Better still, when the strings turn to the other of the two main themes, the soloist joins them with a counterpoint bouncing so vigorously between high and low notes that it puts the violins off their rhythmic stride. Other solo stratagems are the dramatic exchange between bassoon and strings towards the end of the development and the introduction of new material in the middle of the recapitulation. What it does in the cadenza, since Mozart himself did not provide one, is entirely up to the soloist.

Although the bassoon is frequently cast as the buffoon of the orchestra, it is no less capable of playing the romantic lead. Mozart was so well aware of its singing voice that in devising material to show it off to its best advantage he hit upon a melody that he was to recall twelve years later in the Countess’s aria “Porgi amor” in Le Nozze di Figaro. Introduced by muted violins in the opening bars of the Andante ma adagio, it is taken up by the bassoon on its first entry and, as we have come to expect by now, expanded in scope by one of those wide upward leaps. In a short, harmonically and rhythmically wayward passage in the middle of the movement, just before recalling the main theme, the bassoon reveals a hint of hidden histrionic depths.

The last movement is an ingenious combination of minuet and rondo with a strict division of duties between soloist and orchestra. On its introduction and on the three occasion when it is recalled the minuet main theme is the exclusive property of the orchestra. In the three intervening episodes, on the other hand, the most prominent part is taken by the bassoon in displays of either technical agility or, in the second episode, expressive seriousness. The orchestra, however, has the cheerful last word.

Gerald Larner ©2004