MASS IN C MAJOR, K337

INTRODUCTION

It is tempting to view this mass, as have several commentators, as a final summing up of everything Mozart had to say about the mass as a musical form. It has pomp, playfulness, seriousness, tenderness, and reverence.  It instructs us where we need to be instructed, it pokes fun at the archbishop where it can get away with it, and it surprises us where we least expect to be surprised.  It has both Type I and Type II choral music, good parts for the soloists, and another big solo for Ceccarelli.

Several of Mozart’s masses have catchy titles added by others to distinguish one mass in C major from another:  “K139” is thus the “Waisenhaus”, “K220” the “Sparrow”, “K257” the “Credo”, “K259” the “Organ Solo”, and K317 the “Coronation”.  I propose for K337 the title, “Fun with Woodwinds”.  Two oboes are joined by two bassoons for the first time and together they act as a second group of soloists, playing sometimes with the singers and sometimes against them, to great effect.

The scoring is for two violins, bass, organ continuo, two trumpets, timpani, two oboes, two bassoons, and three trombones doubling the alto, tenor, and bass vocal parts.  It dates from March, 1780, and was undoubtedly first performed in the cathedral for some festive occasion, probably Easter again, which was on 26 March.

KYRIE

The Kyrie, for Type I chorus, is a solemn processional march in triple time with just a touch of pretentiousness.  The orchestra play an introduction, the chorus sing to the same tune, the chorus sing contrasting material, the contrasting material repeats, there is a brief coda, and the movement is over in about two minutes.

The tunes are easy to pick out, but the words don’t follow them where we might expect.  The text is a three-part “Kyrie”-“Christe”-“Kyrie” structure.  The first “Kyrie” appears at the opening theme, but “Christe” appears not at the contrasting material but at its repeat, and the second “Kyrie” appears in the middle of that repeat, which lends a tongue-in-cheek quality to the pretentiousness.

The music itself is built almost entirely around two brief theme fragments.  The first is difficult to pin down because it keeps changing its shape and length.  This is a “turning” phrase of four or five shorter notes close together, followed by a longer one, which starts in one direction and then turns around and goes the other.  Because several occurrences are too short to lend themselves well to my musical snippets, I have preceded some with a couple of notes before.  Listen for the cluster of short notes followed by a longer one.

It goes down-up five times (two in the introduction, two the same in the chorus, one variant in the introduction), up-down four times in the chorus (three the same, one extended at the end), down-up-down five times (two the same in the chorus, three variant in the introduction), and up-down-up-down four times in the woodwinds.  It appears in some form in the melody on average about every seven seconds.

The second fragment consists of just two loud notes, the first higher than the second, with a pause before the next note, like a shout from a hilltop.  Generally easier to identify, it also undergoes some degree of transformation at the end.

The woodwinds start to have some fun at the beginning of the contrasting section.  The chorus cry out “Kyrie” using the “loud” phrase and the woodwinds reply with a chortling, syncopated up-down-up-down version of the “turning” phrase.  This is followed by a subtle joke.  As the chorus sing “Kyrie eleison”, the altos, tenors, and basses all sing the syllable “-son” at the same time, but, as if having lost their way, the sopranos sing “-lei-“ instead, using the “loud” phrase, trailing off in the ensuing silence of the other voices with their own “-son”.  Following the second exchange between chorus and woodwinds, starting with “Christe” in the “loud” phrase, the next three repetitions of the same material find all four voices arriving on “-son” at the same time.

At the end of the Kyrie, the structure unravels gently as the “loud” phrase is reduced to a single note and then blends softly with the stretched-out notes of the last up-down “turning” phrase.  The notes are spaced so far apart that they simply coincide with a set of final standard closing chords.

GLORIA

With a tempo marking of “allegro molto”, the Gloria is a manic romp, mostly Type I, in duple time.  The music is loud and exuberant and must leave the violins absolutely exhausted.  Their heroics are largely unsung, however, as the zillion or so notes they play stay mostly in the background while the woodwinds, trumpets, and timpani get all the orchestral glory.

The two opening themes, both sung by the chorus, are the only ones which repeat and they hardly have time to do that.  Theme 1 occurs at “Gloria in excelsis Deo“.  Theme 2, with just a little bit of imitative writing, follows immediately at “Bonae voluntatis“.  Theme I repeats five notes higher at “Laudamus te“.  Theme 2, this time all in block chords, repeats at “Gratias agimus“, sounding like a choral fanfare.

“Domine Deus” is a two-way conversation.  The solo soprano and solo tenor call out the first, third, and fifth lines.  During the subdued unison of the chorus’s answers in the second, fourth, and sixth lines, you can hear the violins skittering madly up and down.

“Qui tollis” is a three-way conversation.  This time it is the chorus who shout out the first, third, and fifth lines and the soloists who answer with the second, fourth, and sixth lines.  In between the woodwinds play a chord that repeats rapidly.  Mozart instructs that this figure should be played softly, and most conductors do.  However, this leaves an awkward silence, a sort of auditory pothole.  Leave it to Herbert Kegel to recognize this as a missed opportunity for the woodwinds to have some fun.  He has them continue to play loudly, sounding like the palpitating heartbeats of musicians trying to catch their breath.  How could Mozart not love it?

“Quoniam“, for chorus, is little more than a transitional theme, which nonetheless serves to heighten musical tension as we gallop toward the finish line.

The music takes a brief and sudden pause and the chorus sings the words “Jesu Christe” softly and without orchestral accompaniment.  The trumpets and timpani break in with a fanfare so insistent it can only signal the return of Theme 1, which does so at “Cum Sancto Spiritu“.   (I can’t resist Kegel’s more exuberant fanfare.)  A brief choral “Amen” follows.

Had Mozart stopped there, he would have left us with a masterpiece of brevity, one of his very shortest Glorias.  Instead, the solo soprano and tenor tack on a few florid lines, followed by an extended “Amen” from the chorus, which ends up adding another forty per cent to the length of the movement.  Though this works just fine musically, it is entirely unnecessary and is intended primarily, I would guess, to twit the archbishop.

CREDO

The Credo, mostly for Type I chorus, turns to a slightly more relaxed triple time.  The overall structure has come to be familiar:  two fast sections with recurring themes enclosing a slow section on the words “Et incarnatus est” and “Crucifixus”.

The lilting Theme 1 sets the tone of the fast sections, opening the movement at “Credo in unum Deum” and repeating immediately at “Visibilium omnium et invisibilium”.

Theme 2 appears at “Et in unum Dominum“.  Theme 1 returns for “Deum de Deo“.

Theme 3 begins at “Genitum, non factum“.

Theme 1 returns at “Qui propter nos homines“.  An extension which blends with it at the word “Descendit” deserves separate mention as Theme 4, as it will also return later.  Theme 4 goes down and then up and then descends appropriately to end the section.

Time seems suspended as the soprano begins to sing “Et incarnatus est“.  There is no sense of protest against the archbishop’s stopwatch; it seems rather that time simply does not matter.  The sound is soft and gentle.  The woodwinds figure prominently, but do not interfere with the soprano’s pre-eminence.  At the word “Crucifixus“, the chorus materialize quietly out of thin air and add an ethereal, otherworldly sound.

Theme 1 almost returns at “Et resurrexit“.  At the beginning of the Credo, Mozart uses two iterations of Theme 1 to set the first four lines.  The text from “Et resurrexit” through “Sedet ad dexteram Patris” is also four lines, but here he wants to use only one iteration.  If he were to begin Theme 1 on the words “Et resurrexit”, the nice little ascending fragment at the end of Theme 1 would correspond exactly with the word “Ascendit”.  However, he would then run out of Theme 1 with one line of text remaining.  Instead, he “pads” the music a little bit by giving “Et resurrexit tertie die” a little theme not found anywhere else.  Theme 1 can then return in full force at “Secundum scripturas” and can be stretched out satisfactorily to end at “ad dexteram Patris”.  The little game on “Et ascendit” falls by the wayside, but Mozart has never been slavish about tone painting.

The first phrase of Theme 3 is next at “Et iterum venturus est“, followed by a bridge leading to the reverential “Et mortuos“.

It’s Theme 1 again for “Cuius regni non erit finis“, with just enough time for two extra repetitions of “non”.

It’s almost a given now that there will be something different for “Et in Spiritum Sanctum“, so when the soloists break in with a little folk song on unrelated themes, we are no longer surprised:  “Ha!  We’ve got your number, Mr. Mozart”.

The first two phrases of Theme 2 return at “Et unam sanctam catholicam“.

“Confiteor” is a new theme and leads into the quiet, slow “Mortuorum”.

Theme 1 recurs one more time for “Et vitam venturi saeculi” and Theme 4 again dovetails with it to finish the movement with “Amen“.

Once again, the scholars have spied a rondo here, and the case is at least better than for the Credo of “K317“.  If Theme 1, Theme 2, and Theme 3 are parts A, B, and C of a rondo, then the form is correct through the third iteration of Theme 1 (A) at “Qui propter”.  The addition of the new Theme 4 here is OK, as it blends with Theme 1 and forms a kind of coda for the first fast section of the Credo.

“Et incarnatus est “and “Crucifixus” together are then a part D, followed properly by Theme 1 (A) at “Et resurrexit”.

This should then be followed by C, A, B, and A, which is sort of true.  However, Theme 3 (C) at “Et iterum venturus est” is followed by new music, as is Theme 2 (B) at “Et unam sanctam catholicam”.  You could squish the music together and call this C and B variants, which to me is a big squish.  But even if you buy that, then finally, in between Theme 1 (A) at “Cuius regni” and Theme 2 (B) at “Et unam sanctam catholicam” is that pesky “Et in Spiritum sanctum”, which can’t be squished into any other rondo part and has to be a part E, which disrupts what’s left of the structure.  Theme 1 (A) finishes as it should at “Et vitam venturi”, again with the nice addition of Theme 4 as a coda.  Thus, the best we can do for calling this a rondo is:

A—Th1 “Credo”

B—Th2 “Et in unum Dominum”

A—Th1 “Deum de Deo”

C—Th3 “Genitum, non factum”

A’—Th1 “Qui propter” (+Th4 “Descendit”)

D—”Et incarnatus est/Crucifixus”

A—Th1 “Et resurrexit”

C’—Th3 “Et iterum” (+”Et mortuos”)

A—Th1 “Cuius regni”

E—”Et in Spiritum Sanctum”

B’—Th2 “Et unam sanctam” (+”Confiteor”+”Mortuorum”)

A’—Th1 “Et vitam venture” (+Th4 “Amen”)

I think that if Mozart had wanted this to be a rondo, he would have written a rondo.

SANCTUS

“Sanctus” is perfunctory and simple in construction.  The chorus begin with a pompous sound, but the orchestra answer with a flouncy figure, encouraging them to lighten up.  Gradually they do and by the end, they are in a sunnier mood.

There is a nice nod to the Trinity, with one theme for “Sanctus“, (repeated three times), a second for “Dominus Deus Sabaoth“, and a third for “Pleni sunt caeli“, which also uses the Mannheim loud-soft device we encountered in “K317“.  The music acts mostly as a transition to a jaunty “Hosanna“, begun by the solo soprano and joined by the chorus.

BENEDICTUS

The conventionality of Sanctus makes even more effective the surprise Mozart springs on us in “Benedictus qui venit”.  It is not a lyrical solo or duet, it is not a gorgeous quartet, it is not a gentle choral lullaby.  It is a stern, serious Type II chorus in a brooding minor key, sounding more like Bach or Handel at their most severe.

The archbishop, of course, would be displeased at any blatant use of formal imitative writing, but Mozart has given us many examples in these masses of bouncy, upbeat Type II sections, which would annoy his employer just as much, so it is perplexing that he should use such harsh music for such gentle words.

Even the scholars scratch their heads for an explanation.  Is Mozart trying to make absolutely sure he will never be required to write another mass for Colloredo?  Is he actively trying to get fired?  Whatever his intent, we have to admit that we didn’t see this coming and that it is Mozart who has our number after all.  

The transition back to “Hosanna” is amazingly effortless, brought about by the chuckling of the woodwinds, who have evidently been feeling deprived of fun quite long enough.

AGNUS DEI

The songlike “Agnus Dei” for soprano is supposed by some commentators to be a “rough draft” for the aria “Porgi amor” in “The Marriage of Figaro”, presumably because the two pieces share the first four notes and rhythm and the mass precedes the opera by several years.  The same claim is sometimes made for the ”Agnus Dei” of “K259”, which also starts with the same four notes, but quickly goes its own way as a cheerful folk song and doesn’t attract the same “aha!” factor in liner notes.

This “Agnus Dei” and the aria both begin quietly after orchestral introductions featuring prominent woodwinds.  The aria, as is usual, is all about the singer—the countess again—here agonizing over her rotten husband, who is trying to bed the chambermaid.  It starts gently enough, but already with a mood of sadness and desperation, as opposed to the serenity of “Agnus Dei”.  The sound escalates to dramatic and tense as the Countess contemplates suicide.  Throughout, the orchestra plays primarily a supporting role.

Act II, Scene 1

The music of “Agnus Dei” remains open and ingenuous throughout and has by far the more elaborate structure, with the voice and woodwind parts entwined in each other.  If I had to link the two pieces, I’d call the aria a distillation or simplification of “Agnus Dei”.

The thin orchestral texture lets the sound be more intimate.  The violins play with mutes and remain very much in the background, mostly filling in quietly, while the basses (and second bassoon) keep a steady pizzicato beat.  The soprano sings a song of incomparable sweetness in very slow duple time, meandering through two verses of similar material with an instrumental trio of oboe, bassoon, and organ soloists weaving counterthemes in and out until they become inseparable from the voice.  

I like especially the interactions in a phrase that appears four times in the “Miserere nobis” subsections and contains a “laughing” motif.  It is first expressed by the organ and bassoon.  The soprano holds her note steady, waits until they are finished, and then adds a phrase of her own.

The oboe and organ take it up the second time.  Again the soprano holds her note steady and then indulges in just a little melisma, as if to let them know who’s really in charge here.  The oboe and organ tease her back with a couple of echoes.  None of this in any way detracts from the gentleness of the music.  

The soprano herself sings the phrase the third time.  When the woodwinds hear her singing “their” theme, the oboe winks back at her immediately by playing “her” original response, while she harmonizes with all three of the solo instruments.

The soprano again holds her note steady for the last statement of the phrase, by the oboe and bassoon this time, followed by just a teeny bit more melisma to close.

If this movement, with its intimate tone, soprano solo with melisma, and conversations between singer and melting woodwinds is a “rough draft” for anything, I think it would be the “Et incarnatus est” section in “K427”.

DONA NOBIS PACEM

The chorus pull their materializing act again, as they did in “Crucifixus”, and sing a final transitional variation of the “Agnus Dei” material.  The music pauses expectantly and the Grand Finale begins, switching to a fast triple time.  The strings take off their mutes and pick up their bows.  The trumpets, trombones, and timpani rejoin the other instruments and play a vigorous introduction.

The chorus sing, the solo quartet answer, the chorus sing again, the quartet answer again.  The excitement builds as they do it a third time and we wonder who will “win”.  It turns out as a kind of a tie the fourth time as the chorus gets the climax while the soloists get the actual last word.

I can’t finish without commenting on one particular chord progression, which I don’t think Mozart has used since his very first mass.  The only thing in all these masses which I have found musically awkward is the sudden change from a G major to an A flat major chord in the Gloria of “K139“, which is itself based on a similarly awkward change from an E major to an F major chord in the Gloria of Leopold’s mass.  Here, in the last movement of his last Salzburg mass, Mozart, as if to make amends, gives us the perfect solution.

Of course, he didn’t know this would be his last mass for the archbishop.  Or did he?  A year later, their mutual resentments finally boiled over, and Mozart was dismissed from service with a literal kick in the ass from the Colloredo’s second in command.

Aside from the “K427” mass and the “K626” Requiem, both unfinished, Mozart wrote no more masses.  There is evidence that he would have had he been able to secure a commission, as he left behind two finished and two unfinished Kyries without other mass movements.

–01/27/2017