Mozart Symphony 39 Program Notes Sheet Music and Recordings

Program Notes & Analysis

The "Instrumental Oratorium": A Conductor's Daring Theory

For much of musical history, the last three symphonies of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart—No. 39 in E-flat, No. 40 in G minor, and No. 41, the "Jupiter"—have been treated as three distinct, magnificent islands. They were composed in a miraculous, desperate, and unexplained burst of inspiration during the summer of 1788. The popular myth, now largely debunked, was that Mozart wrote them for "posterity," with no hope of hearing them performed. We now know orchestral parts were copied, suggesting at least some performances were planned or took place. But the conductor Nikolaus Harnoncourt, a famous maverick and a pioneer of historical performance, offered a far more radical and provocative theory. He argued that these three works are not a "trilogy" at all, but a single, unified, twelve-movement "Instrumental Oratorium." In Harnoncourt's view, Symphony No. 39 is the grand "Prelude" or overture to the entire drama. He pointed to its majestic, solemn slow introduction as the opening curtain and its surprisingly abrupt ending as a deliberate "cliffhanger," designed to resolve not in its own finale, but in the tense, breathless opening bars of the G minor symphony that followed. This theory helps explain Harnoncourt’s famously eccentric interpretations, such as his brisk tempo for the Adagio and his dramatic, agitating pauses. While most scholars and performers still treat the symphonies as separate masterpieces, Harnoncourt's "oratorium" idea is a compelling piece of musical storytelling, forcing us to listen anew to the connections—the key relationships, the dramatic flow—between three of the greatest works ever conceived.

The E-flat Atmosphere: A New World of Sound

Whether or not one accepts Harnoncourt's theory, it is undeniable that Symphony No. 39 creates a unique sonic world. It is the only one of Mozart’s mature symphonies to completely omit oboes. This was not an oversight; it was a revolutionary choice of orchestration. In place of the bright, reedy, and pastoral oboe, Mozart builds his woodwind section around the clarinets. Mozart had fallen in love with the clarinet's rich, liquid, and versatile voice, and in this symphony, he makes it the heart and soul of the wind choir. The key of E-flat major itself, with its traditional associations (as in The Magic Flute) with Masonic solemnity, warmth, and noble "brotherhood," is perfectly suited to the clarinet's mellow, blended tone. The result is a sound that is less sharp and pastoral than his other symphonies, and instead, more golden, velvety, and homogenous. This "lodge-like" warmth is what defines the symphony. It is the sound of enlightened, aristocratic grace, a perfect balance of grandeur and intimacy that sets it apart from the dark tragedy of No. 40 and the brilliant C-major classicism of No. 41.

Movement I: Adagio – Allegro

The symphony begins not with a melody, but with a grand, ceremonial gesture. The full orchestra, including trumpets and timpani, proclaims a series of stately, dotted-rhythm fanfares, as if opening the doors to a great hall. This is music of profound solemnity, reminiscent of a French overture. But this public grandeur quickly dissolves into something far more personal and disturbing. The strings and winds begin a slow, slithering, chromatic descent, full of grinding dissonances and tense, sighing appoggiaturas. It is a passage of extraordinary darkness and mystery, wandering far from the home key with a sense of "uncanny" dread that listeners have compared to the supernatural moments in his opera Don Giovanni, which was still fresh in his mind. This long, 34-bar shadow finally lifts as the music decelerates, holding its breath on a single note before suddenly, and with a smile, tipping over into the Allegro. The main theme is not a brilliant fanfare but a graceful, lilting, almost shy melody given to the first violins. It is a waltz in all but name, flowing with an effortless, song-like elegance. The rest of the movement is a masterclass in Classical form, but it is grace, not fire, that defines its spirit. The development section provides a brief storm, but the sun quickly returns, and the movement glides to a conclusion of pure, contented beauty.

Movement II: Andante con moto

The A-flat major slow movement is the symphony’s lyrical heart. It is a seemingly simple, song-like movement in sonata form, but it is filled with deep, quiet complexities. The main theme, presented by the strings, is a model of placid, noble beauty. But as Haydn so often did, Mozart introduces a shadow of unrest. A second theme, in F minor, suddenly appears forte in the full orchestra, a tense, dramatic interruption that shatters the calm. The woodwinds, led by the clarinets and flute, are given extraordinary prominence, engaging in delicate, conversational dialogues with the strings. The development section is not a place of conflict, but of quiet, searching exploration, with the main theme wandering through distant harmonic territory. The recapitulation returns, and the music seems to smile with relief, the stormy second theme now resolved into the gentle home key. The entire movement is a marvel of delicate scoring, a perfect, unhurried aria for orchestra that demonstrates Mozart’s absolute mastery of emotional nuance.

Movement III: Menuetto (Allegretto) & Trio

After the profound introspection of the Andante, the Minuet crashes in with surprising force. This is no delicate, powdered-wig dance. This is a robust, stomping, and earthy Austrian Ländler, a vigorous folk dance for the full orchestra. It is full of muscle and good cheer, with a strong, unambiguous rhythmic drive and a feeling of rustic celebration. The true gem, however, is the central Trio, which serves as a miniature concerto for clarinet. Here, the first clarinet is given a beautiful, yodeling, Ländler-like tune, a melody of pure, pastoral innocence. The second clarinet accompanies with a liquid, bubbling arpeggio figure—a notoriously difficult passage that requires exceptional breath control. This Trio is one of the first and most beautiful examples of soloistic clarinet writing in the symphonic repertoire, a personal love letter from Mozart to his new favorite instrument. The return of the muscular Minuet provides a jolt, bringing the listener back from the idyllic countryside to the boisterous village dance.

Movement IV: Finale (Allegro)

The finale is a brilliant, high-speed perpetuum mobile that showcases Mozart’s debt to his great friend and mentor, Joseph Haydn. Like many of Haydn’s most famous finales (such as in his "Paris" symphonies), this movement is almost monothematic. It is not a string of beautiful melodies, but the relentless, obsessive, and witty development of a single, scurrying, and rather mischievous 8-note theme. This "scampering" theme is announced quietly by the violins, and the rest of the movement is a breathtaking demonstration of what a genius can do with the simplest of materials. The theme is tossed between instruments, turned upside down, fragmented, and passed through a dizzying array of keys. The movement is a masterclass in musical humor, full of sudden pauses, dynamic shocks, and false endings. It is a high-wire act of compositional virtuosity, a brilliant, breathless, and joyful romp that seems to be in a great hurry to reach its conclusion. As Harnoncourt noted, the ending itself is surprisingly abrupt—two strong chords, and it's over, as if to say, "The story is not finished." Or perhaps it was simply Mozart in a hurry, knowing he still had two more symphonies to write before the summer was over.