We can all breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, we’ve heard exactly what we’ve always wanted to: every single note that Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart wrote. At least we would have, had we listened non-stop to BBC Radio 3 for the first 12 days of this New Year. For, although I’m sure that there are some out there who pitched their tents early, set up camp next to their digital radios, and settled down for the marathon, I’m equally certain that the vast majority cannot lay claim to witnessing second-hand all 17 million dots that stemmed from Mozart’s quill. Of course there is no denying Wolfy’s genius, and anyone who claims that his music is anything but extraordinary needs their ears clearing out so that someone can see to their head. Nor is his music unsuitable for early morning, noon, the dinner table or the bedroom (although I’ve not tried this last one – any takers?). But 288 hours of it on the trot seems a trifle excessive, perhaps posey and – dare I say it –pointless. Kudos to the organisers who must’ve slaved over this for months on end: I hope they were satisfied with the oh-so-sentimental anecdotes with which listener upon listener bombarded their post-/inboxes, telephone lines and my ears. Yes, Mozart’s music is humanity sonified. Yes, I’m glad to know that your Great-Aunt Ada died choking on a Mozart chocolate whilst listening to the Flute and Harp Concerto. Yes, I’m pleased your dog likes it too. Yes, I’m sure you do wish Mozartiana had continued for all eternity.
But what of Beethoven? Where’s Haydn (hidin’)? Why deprive us of Schubert? How should we hear Britten, Byrd, Birtwistle and the dulcet tones of Philip Dodd? Are they unworthy of our ear-time this year? This is my main contention with The Genius of Mozart: it denies the genius of others, something of which the real Mozart would have been mortified, I’m sure; despite how cocky he sounds when his letters are recited by ‘actor’ Samuel Barber. And this, from a self-proclaimed ‘eclectic’ major radio station seems unforgivable.
Having said all this, I did indeed catch some utterly incredible Mozartian moments during the showcasing, for which I really remove my hat to the broadcasters. An acoustic recording from the 1920s of Strauss conducting Die Zauberflöte overture, and Mahan Esfahani playing a (substantial and harmonically interesting) fragment live in the studio – music that the 7-year-old Mozart wrote for his sister, found in a notebook – to name but two. It wasn’t as if Sean Rafferty had just brought in his box of 170 Mozart CDs and cracked them on; real time, effort, research and money went into the venture, and it was pulled off with a remarkable amount of stamina and enthusiasm by the presenters. But the question I’m left with, bouncing round my brain to Eine Kleine Nachtmusik is: was it all necessary? And the answer that comes bouncing back, in my mind at least is: not really.
But what of Beethoven? Where’s Haydn (hidin’)? Why deprive us of Schubert? How should we hear Britten, Byrd, Birtwistle and the dulcet tones of Philip Dodd? Are they unworthy of our ear-time this year? This is my main contention with The Genius of Mozart: it denies the genius of others, something of which the real Mozart would have been mortified, I’m sure; despite how cocky he sounds when his letters are recited by ‘actor’ Samuel Barber. And this, from a self-proclaimed ‘eclectic’ major radio station seems unforgivable.
Having said all this, I did indeed catch some utterly incredible Mozartian moments during the showcasing, for which I really remove my hat to the broadcasters. An acoustic recording from the 1920s of Strauss conducting Die Zauberflöte overture, and Mahan Esfahani playing a (substantial and harmonically interesting) fragment live in the studio – music that the 7-year-old Mozart wrote for his sister, found in a notebook – to name but two. It wasn’t as if Sean Rafferty had just brought in his box of 170 Mozart CDs and cracked them on; real time, effort, research and money went into the venture, and it was pulled off with a remarkable amount of stamina and enthusiasm by the presenters. But the question I’m left with, bouncing round my brain to Eine Kleine Nachtmusik is: was it all necessary? And the answer that comes bouncing back, in my mind at least is: not really.