Peter Maag remained
something of a connoisseur’s conductor,
with some of his recordings taking on
almost talismanic status as examples
of stylistically apt conducting; his
famous Suisse Romande recordings of
Mozart’s Symphonies Nos. 29 and 34 for
example are back on Testament. But Arts
seem to have released a sizeable chunk
of Maag’s latter-day repertoire and
this Mozart box is a sterling example
of their commitment.
Maag favours clarity
and contrast and he conjures some fascinating
textures as a result. In the Paris
Symphony in D major he observes splendid
distinctions between forte and piano
markings and orchestral crescendi whilst
ensuring that the Andante is affectionately
phrased with a proper balance between
clarinets and horns. The antiphonal
division of first and second violins
is well realised in the concluding Allegro.
Maag always finds time to phrase naturally
(see the opening of No. 33) and to point
slow movements at the climaxes. Listen
additionally to the way in which his
buoyancy of rhythm and aeration of texture
never compromise the sense of direction
or power of an Allegro – a perfect example
of his gift for animation in this specific
context is the last movement of the
C major K338.
He adopts a good Beechamesque
tempo for the Haffner, though
he does add some little hesitancies
in the opening movement, and sports
an easeful Andante. Once more the Presto
finale is a marvel of the natural unfolding
of texture and sectional lines. I liked
the yearning figures in the Linz
and the natural gravity of the brass.
The little known Orchestra of Padova
and Venice responds with verve and precision
to Maag’s lead, not least in a nicely
galvanised finale full of the most eager
and musical of dynamics. Even the sterner
tests of the last Symphonies are met
with aplomb. After rather a portentous
opening to the Prague Maag unleashes
fine and incisive hunting horns, elegance
allied to legato lyricism. We can hear
that the string section is smallish
but it’s delightfully crisp whilst the
winds are elegant and technically adroit.
Maag doesn’t push the Allegro section
of the first movement of the E flat
major but he does conjure up a sense
of passing unease in the slow movement
whilst properly observing the con
moto instruction. The rhythmic impetus
behind the Menuetto is palpable but
never explicit and my only disappointment
here was the finale where a deadpan
halting phrasing never quite convinces
me.
It’s certainly instructive
to listen to a master at work at the
end of the G minor’s opening movement
where he reveals the oft hidden strands
of orchestration. And he brings lilt
and a dancing articulation to the finale
with a remarkable degree of clarity
– that word again – that demonstrates
not only the preparation that has clearly
gone towards these performances but
also the unusual degree of sheer articulacy
that they reveal. So it shouldn’t be
a surprise that the inner part writing
of the Jupiter is so exposed
nor that the light and shade and sheer
ebullience of the music is so convincingly
assayed. In the slow movement Maag encourages
some almost celestially veiled string
tone, which he underscores in the ensuing
Menuetto with a really pompous trot.
The entry points in the finale, the
counterpoint and playing out of thematic
elements, are all splendidly realised.
Simply but attractively
presented in a card slipcase this set
houses performances by one of the undersung
conductors of the century just passed.
Even in repertoire as well trodden as
this Maag’s ear for texture and balance
pays rich and lasting rewards.
Jonathan Woolf
Orchestra of Padova and Venice/Peter Maag
