PROGRAM

NOTES by Steven Lowe

WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART
Symphony No. 40 in G minor, K. 550 [revised version]
BORN: January 27, 1756, in Salzburg
DIED: December 5, 1791, in Vienna
WORK COMPOSED: 1788

Symphony No. 40, K. 550 is one of only two (of a total of 41) such works Mozart cast in a minor
key. (The other is the tempestuous and much earlier Symphony No. 25, also in G minor, an
energetic Sturm und Drang statement from the composer’s adolescence). If ever grace and grief
were beautifully poised it’s in the masterly Symphony No. 40, one of three he composed in 1788
(the others were No. 39 in E-flat, K. 539 and No. 41 in C, K. 551, Jupiter) and probably never
performed during his lifetime.

A shroud of mystery still hangs over the composition of this trio of masterworks. Mozart may
have composed them for a projected visit to England being arranged by his friend, the London-
based operatic composer Stephen Storace (1762–1796). The enthusiastic reception accorded
Haydn by the British concert-going public would have disposed Mozart to consider a journey
across the channel, especially because of his precarious financial circumstances in 1788.

It was not typical for Classical period composers to write symphonies in minor keys except for a
brief period in the late 1760s/early 1770s when Goethe’s Sorrows of Young Werther spawned
the pre-romantic Sturm und Drang movement first in literature and then the other arts.
Mozart’s life in 1788 was fraught with stress. Viennese patronage had withered after the anti-
aristocratic implications of The Marriage of Figaro in 1786, based on Beaumarchais, scared off
Mozart’s financial backers who feared (correctly!) the end their power as themes of democracy
spread throughout Europe. On a personal level, tragedy had struck with the death of a daughter
and the continued ill health of his wife, Constanze (who, ironically, outlived her husband by
three decades). It is dangerous, of course, to automatically explain emotionally expressive works
in terms of immediate biography, but it is likely that the dark, angst-driven beauty of K. 550
drew some of its power and character to events that worked on Mozart’s state of mind in the
summer of 1788.

After a brief, nervous orchestral sigh in the shape of a quiet arpeggio figure in the violas, the
agitated main theme asserts itself in the violins. A forceful subsidiary theme is then heard,
followed by a more wistful theme in the relative major of B-flat (same key signature as G minor,
i.e., two flats). During the energetic development section, it is the main theme that prevails.

The haunting Andante bears a superficial resemblance to light-hearted Rococo music, with its
profusion of trills, yet the mood is ineffably sad and tinged with anxiety that rises from
understatement to biting acidity.

Though the third movement is marked Menuetto, this is no dance-like evocation of courtly
grace. The main theme crosses bar lines, imparting a dark and unsettled quality to the rhythm;
even the comparatively gentle Trio does not undo the overall tenor of the music.

The finale, catapulted forward by a leaping “rocket theme,” does not fulfill Classical period
expectation by ending in the major. Mozart resolutely sticks to the dramatic, disturbing minor
tonality in great contrast to his tactics in another great work in G minor, his String Quintet, K.
516, which concludes unconvincingly in the major, as if the composer were whistling in the dark.
In this great symphony, he drops the pretense of a happy ending altogether. What is especially
wonderful about K. 550 is that despite the dark mood, there is nothing remotely maudlin about
this superbly crafted, unfailingly beautiful symphony.

Tonight’s performance uses the revised version of this symphony, adding a pair of clarinets to
the orchestra. As Haydn noted of the still-evolving instrument: “It was Mozart who taught us all
how to write for the clarinet.”

Scored for flute, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns and strings.

© 2016 Steven Lowe