Violin Concerto No.3 in G major, K.216

No one knows the identity of the violinist for whom Mozart wrote his five Violin Concertos in 1775. There is a theory that they were intended for Gaetano Brunetti, leader of the orchestra at the Archbishop’s court in Salzburg where Mozart and his father were also employed. It is tempting, however, to speculate that the composer had himself in mind as soloist: having just returned from leave of absence in Munich, where he had been on an unsuccessful mission to find a better job, he could scarcely have thought of a more spectacular way of recovering his reputation as a composer and instrumentalist in Salzburg. The Concerto in G would have been particularly effective in that respect.

Drawing on an aria from his recently completed opera Il rè pastore, Mozart secures a brilliant start to the opening Allegro movement. The soloist makes a decisive entry with the same operatic material but, ignoring the two contrasting themes introduced earlier by the orchestra, presents two more of his own - one elegantly poised on the top string of the instrument, the other politely taken up on a playful suggestion from the violins in the orchestra. In spite of this melodic abundance, the soloist adopts another new theme in the middle of the movement and, in an increasingly emotional dialogue with the first oboe, treats it for the most part in intriguingly anxious minor harmonies. The return of the operatic opening theme clears the air again.

To soften the colours in the Adagio, Mozart mutes the violins and replaces the oboes with a pair of flutes. But even here minor harmonies and agitated string figuration intrude on the lyrical serenity of the main theme in the middle section. Its final recall, in a little epilogue after the cadenza, is reassuring. So too is the carefree attitude of the last movement which is liberated enough to include a central episode that introduces not just one surprise element in a brief Andante serenade in G minor but also, immediately after it and with another change of tempo, a cheerful French folk tune that has nothing to do with the material on either side of it.

Nobody knows exactly why, or how, Mozart wrote a series of five violin concertos in just eight months in 1775. Even allowing for the possibility that the first of them, K.207, was written two years earlier (as some authorities believe), it was an extraordinary achievement for any composer let alone one who was not yet twenty. It could be that - on the advice of his politically astute father - he was ostentatiously making up for his recent neglect of his duties as Konzertmeister in Salzburg while trying to find a better job in Munich.

Another question is why, having made such startling progress in these works, he wrote no more violin concertos. But if he had retained his interest in the violin as a solo instrument, rather than transferring his allegiance so comprehensively to the piano, it is doubtful that even in the years of his maturity in Vienna he would have written anything more entertaining than the Violin Concerto in G, K.216. Drawing on an aria from his recently completed opera Il rè pastore, Mozart secures a particularly brilliant start to the opening Allegro. The soloist makes a decisive entry with the same operatic material but, ignoring the two contrasting themes introduced earlier by the orchestra, presents a different, elegantly shaped first-subject theme and an attractively playful second subject. In spite of this thematic abundance, the soloist adopts another new theme in the development section and, in an increasingly emotional dialogue with the first oboe, treats it for the most part in intriguingly anxious minor harmonies.

To soften the colours in the D major Adagio, Mozart mutes the violins and replaces the oboes with a pair of flutes. But even here minor harmonies and agitated string figuration intrude on the lyrical serenity of the main theme in the middle section. Its final recall, in a little epilogue in D major after the cadenza, is reassuring. So too is the carefree attitude of the last movement which is liberated enough to include a central episode that introduces not just one surprise element in a brief Andante serenade in G minor but also, immediately after it and with another change of tempo, a cheerful French folk tune that has nothing to do with the material on either side of it.