A world which is perplexed by an unnerving and malignant nature seems to flow through Haydn’s “Trauer” Symphony, besides other masterpieces like Symphony no. 49 “The Passion” and the Quartets of opus 17. These pages could at times even sound eccentric delving to extreme borders, in a kind of indefinite no man’s land: contrasting, counterpoint, messed up with instability and imbalance, where any Andante turns into an Adagio and (vice versa), and an Allegro transforms itself into a rough ride of whipping, threatening noises. It is not by chance that the no. 44 Adagio was played in the commemorative ceremony in Berlin after his death in 1809. The choice was by chance, not dictated by the composer’s will, inasmuch as the indication of the Trauer (mourning) is apocryphal. It was also called the “Canon Symphony”, due to the Minuet called “Canon ad diapason”. Here we find the clever imitation at a distance of a bar taking from melody to low-pitch, in contrast with the cheerful atmosphere of the Trio. Yet other masterpieces also having an expressive force are the two external monothematic tempos, the Allegro con brio and the Finale: Presto alla breve, beats of a thriving impetus, besides the moving Adagio, split between radiant splendours in major and mournful accents in minor. More motley coloured and less sulphuric is Mozart’s Sinfonia concertante K. 364 composed between August and September 1779, which improves in a dialogue between two or three instruments with the orchestra (so popular in Paris) the experiences which have been previously achieved: in particular the liturgical strictness of the old style, the nebulosity of the French taste and the innovation of the Mannheim school, all percolated by a language which integrates the soloists’ dialogue with the orchestra. The K. 219 Concert of 1775 also pertains to the Salzburg school, and it could be easily linked to the picturesque and enchanting world of “Turkishness”. Here we encounter the exotic colour of Turkish music – which has even infiltrated the translations of the tales of A thousand and one nights, the same as in the china in the rococo style (which was musically contaminating such authors as Gluck, Haydn and Grétry) – break through at the end: a rondo with minuet timing granting overt eccentricities in between themes replete with ornamentations, melodies having various gestures and syncopathic movements. Yet the humour of the Finale is any way preceded by a first movement, surprisingly interrupted by a dramatic Adagio, and a slow pensive interlude. One final remark goes to Spohr’s Potpourri, transferred from clarinet to viola and divided into an introductory larghetto and an Allegro-allegretto end piece. This is the music of pleasant fragrance and generous inspiration: it is elegant in gesture and expressive, doing justice to a Romantic author who is still forgotten.

Luigi Di Fronzo