Piano Sonata in A major, K.331

Whatever the forensic grounds for disputing it, the long-held belief that Mozart’s Sonata in A major was written on his ill-fated visit to Paris in 1778 is difficult to resist. It is also difficult to resist the idea that, whereas the comparatively grim Sonata in A minor - which certainly was completed in Paris in the unhappy summer of 1778 - reflects the reality of the situation, the sunny A major work was written specifically to flatter Parisian taste, which in Mozart’s opinion was too frivolous to tolerate anything at all serious or ambitious.

Certainly, he avoided a sonata-form first movement here and began with a fluent easy-to-take series of six variations on a charming little theme in French style. They are not as harmless as they look, however. The smooth surface of each variation is upset by surprisingly abrupt dynamic contrasts boldly emphasised by dramatic changes in rhythm or in figuration. He avoided a slow movement too, going straight on to the Menuetto, the most French of all dance forms, and creating something so beautiful that it might well have been to good for the kind of audience he had in mind. The metrical irregularity of the trio section is partic­ularly inspired.

The rondo Alla turca would not have been alien to Parisian taste. There was then a vogue for all things Turkish, including the military Janissary music, the percussive rhythms and the exotic harmonic and instrumental colouring of which are celebrated here with virtuoso exuberance.

Unlike the very personal Sonata in A minor, K.310, which was also written on Mozart’s ill-fated visit to Paris in 1778, the Sonata in A major was clearly designed to flatter Parisian taste - which in Mozart’s opinion was too frivolous to tolerate anything at all serious or ambitious. So he avoided a sonata-form first movement and began with a fluent easy-to-take series of six variations on a charming little theme in French style. In spite of the conventional appearance of the variations, however, they are not as harmless as they look. Mozart upsets the smooth surface of each variation with surprisingly abrupt dynamic contrasts, emphasising them with dramatic changes in rhythm or in figuration and most effectively carrying them over into the coda.

There is no slow movement. Since convention did not demand one after a slow theme and variations, Mozart goes straight on to the Minuetto, the most French of all dance forms, and created something so beautiful that it might well have been to good for the kind of audience he had in mind. The metrical irregularity of the trio section is partic­ularly inspired.

The rondo Alla turca is no contradiction of the Parisian orientation of the work. There was then a vogue for all things Turkish, including the military Janissary music, which became so popular that a “Janissary stop” was available as an optional extra for keyboard instruments of the day. Mozart’s Turkish rondo is so colourfully written that anyone playing an instrument with such a device would know exactly when to apply it, superfluous though its cymbal or triangle sounds would be. The Alla turca seemed so authentic in its day, in fact, that Mozart’s English friend Stephen Storace used part of it for the chorus of Turks in his Siege of Belgrade in 1791.