(Jérôme) Hantaï plays Mozart
In the realm of classical music, where the echo of the past continually reverberates through the present, Jérôme Hantaï's latest exploration of Mozart on a period piano is a vivid testament to the enduring vibrancy of historical performance. This album, prominently featuring Mozart's Piano Sonata No. 7 and the Rondo in A minor (K. 511) alongside other works, is not merely a reproduction; it is an intimate dialogue with the past, facilitated by the anonymous fortepiano that has been meticulously restored to sing once again.
The fortepiano used on this album, an instrument with no clear provenance but believed to be from southern Germany, possesses a "hard" sound that challenges the modern ear accustomed to the delicate tones of some early pianos. Yet, it is this very hardness that lends the album its distinctive texture. Hantaï's approach to dynamics—forceful yet nuanced—allows the piano to express a range of emotions, from a bold, almost singing fortissimo to softer, more introspective passages. This dynamic range, explored within the confines of historical authenticity, makes each piece a discovery of what the fortepiano can achieve.
The recording, captured in the Théâtre Élisabéthain d’Hardelot, does justice to the fortepiano's unique timbre. Under Jiri Heger’s production, the sound is pristine, allowing the natural characteristics of the instrument to permeate the auditory surroundings. In the Sonata K. 333, Hantaï demonstrates impeccable technical prowess. The Allegro is articulated with clarity, each note placed with precision, while the second movement’s tempo is carefully judged, not lingering too long, allowing Mozart’s melodic beauty to shine through without excessive sentimentality.
Hantaï’s interpretation of the Rondo in A minor, K. 511, perhaps the most renowned piece on this recording, is a masterclass in articulation. Here, Mozart's longwinded phrases are transformed into shorter, more impactful slurs that highlight the compositional genius. The major sections contrast sharply with the minor, showcasing Hantaï's skill in drawing out nuanced emotional landscapes from the fortepiano’s constrained dynamic range. Constrained as it may be, the result here is not lacking for my taste in anything more.
Perhaps most striking is the opening sonata in C, K. 309. Hantaï embraces the percussive quality of the fortepiano, bringing forth a rendition that is both lively and insightful. The development sections, where Mozart shifts into a minor mode, are treated with particular finesse, allowing the thematic material to emerge with clarity and impact. This performance does not just recreate; it reimagines Mozart’s intentions, providing a window into the playful and profound aspects of his musical thought.
In conclusion, this album is more than a historical curiosity; it is a compelling case for the relevance of period instruments in contemporary classical music discourse. Jérôme Hantaï’s deep understanding of Mozart’s idiom, combined with his command over the fortepiano’s capabilities, invites listeners to experience Mozart’s works anew. It is a profound reminder that music, much like history, is alive, and constantly reshaped by those who dare to engage with it fully. For students and aficionados of Mozart, this recording offers a unique opportunity to delve deeper into the nuances that define classical mastery and to appreciate the vibrant legacy of historical performance practice.
