Mozart Clarinet Quintet: Theme and Variations Finale

As a young teenager, I went to a chamber music concert with my grandparents in a local church. They were trying to encourage my unexpected, growing interest in classical music. Some Mozart was on the program, I think it was the clarinet quintet, but I honestly can't remember.

During the intermission, in the bathroom, I overheard two grey-haired men have a conversation something like this.

 "Great concert."

 "Yes, beautiful."

"Eighteenth century music is my favorite. Of course there is some incredible nineteenth century music too, but I prefer the eighteenth century."

"Sure."

"I can't stand twentieth century music, though."

"No, it's just not music."

My awkward adolescent self was uncomfortable with the idea that I was joining this snobbish, absurdly conservative social scene through my unusual adolescent interest in classical music. At that point in my life I was still, to be honest, not really sure what I was listening to, and I wondered, "why am I here?"

Now I can't judge their private listening experiences of Mozart. Maybe the music deeply moved them. But let's say for the sake of argument that they were just looking for a gorgeous,inoffensive, lightly engaging entertainment that fit their ideas of what eighteenth century Central European aristocrats would do on Sunday afternoons, a lifestyle they sought to emulate in their New Jersey retirements.

I've heard that great art works on multiple levels. People say this about Shakespeare. There are fight scenes and comic relief moments, but also great characters and beautiful language. A really good movie works like this too. You can watch closely or space out half the time, and it is great either way. The more attention you pay, the better it is.

A music teacher of mine once described the atmosphere of Mozart's music as a mens' club where people come day after day to play cards and wile away many, many empty hours. This genteel sensibility can be an attraction or an obstacle based on who you are as the listener, but Mozart also reliably brings to the table an incredible command of musical gesture and form. Some of his masterpieces also operate on another level beyond this too, which I think is especially apparent in the finale of the Clarinet Quintet. The drama of the piece seems to be a confrontation with its own limitations. In some moments, the self awareness gains the character of existential dread and at others, transcendence. Sometimes both at the same time.

The finale is a Theme and Variations, a classical form that tends towards vapidity. The theme is familiar and childlike, a tune to whistle carelessly. It sets up very little drama, other than echoing the descending thirds of the opening of the first movement.  There is a problem in a lot of classical music, I think, that there are just too many movements. The first movement may be strong and serious, but sometimes the others are too lightweight to balance it out, making the overall listening experience a bit unbalanced. Beethoven's Kreutzer sonata, for example, is one of the most intense, iconic manifestations of Sonata form followed by two other movements that are good but not on its level. Mozart seems to usually write great slow movements, but he is sometimes guilty of trivial dance movements and finales. The Clarinet Quintet finale makes the first impression, not that it will disappoint, but that it we are in for a pretty relaxed and easy ride.

These variations are all fun, with plenty of great craftsmanship to enjoy, but the repeats after every eight measure phrase become slightly unwelcome. As they go on, they seem to take themselves less and less seriously. The third variation for instance is like a parody of minor-key drama. It gives the viola a fun phrase from an earlier movement (the Trio section of the Minuet), but warped into what seems like a theatrical imitation of emotion. The viola's melodic line ends on a cloying grace-note phrase repeated a few too many times. The fourth variation sounds like a clarinet etude, a funny effect when it starts, but a little pointless as it goes on. While its high energy carries it through, the repetition is ever so slightly annoying and has us fidgeting in our seats a little.

A series of tutti chords, marking a departure from the theme and variations form, perks up our ears. The adagio section that follows has a recitative quality that seems to be a bridge to something new, but no, it turns out to be just another variation, and a slow one at that. There some short phrases with silence in between them: the pauses make us impatient. The repeats are most unwelcome, to the point where Mozart seems to be deliberately wearing out our ears. Could he be inducing boredom and weariness as a musical effect? Maybe the placid aristocrats would find it relaxing, but I cannot possibly be alone in finding this part to get bogged down, uncomfortable, and not fun anymore.

When we finally hear new material, it is harmonically different and again outside the variations structure. We are really ready for it. The quiet chords- finally existing for their own sake rather than filling a spot in the form - are the freshest of air that restores our alertness and sensitivity. This new, supremely elegant phrase opens up into an understated, quiet catharsis as only Mozart could give us, with the unexpectedly rich sonority of a minor seventh chord (technically a suspension that waits till the last second to resolve).

To me it sounds like, after being bored and restless at home, we put on our jackets, went outside on a cold day, and walked somewhere with a beautiful view of an autumnal landscape that finally lets us feel how we're feeling. The form is not a Theme and Variations anymore. It feels vibrant and flexible. With this shift in blanace, we are now willing enough as listeners to hear things start coming to an end. The original theme comes back in a more festive way, but after eight measures there finally is no repeat this time. The forward motion leads us to some new but coda-like material. The viola, apparently Mozart's favorite string instrument, insistently repeats the tonic note, as a pedal point. Something is clearly going to happen, but how will this intriguingly misshapen movement resolve? Banality now would leave a cynical, depressing taste in the mouths of the closer listeners.

The way it works out is inexplicably satisfying. In response to the strings’ tentatively concluding statement, Mozart gives the clarinet a descending chromatic phrase that briefly transforms the harmony for a moment of unexpected darkness before neatly, almost imperceptibly resolving. Starting on the dominant scale degree, descending four half steps, then two whole steps, and landing inevitably yet surprisingly on the leading tone, it’s hard to imagine a more graceful way to leave and re-enter the key. The strings support the clarinet's departure with relatively simple chromatic chord changes, but it's farthest we've been outside A major the whole movement, and for a split second it feels like the harmonic wilderness. It's boldly beautiful, but also the surfacing, finally, of an bitter undercurrent totally out of character with the rest of the movement, indeed the rest of the piece. These feelings pass by so subtly as to seem almost unintentional, but the impression is unmistakable. The movement's last 19 bars can be as lightweight as they want to be (and indeed they are), because now we know what its limits are and how Mozart feels about them.

So much of music is about playing with expectations, but such a deliberate exhausting of the ear and spirit as a musical effect must be rare. It's easy to imagine another composer, maybe any other composer, getting the balance wrong and ending up writing something boring for us. Aside from this unusual, experimental project, this set of variations also passes just fine as ten minutes of pleasant, well-crafted classical music, to those paying less attention. Two listeners might have vastly different impressions of this piece, which almost makes it seem subversive. I even hazard the word "edgy."

To play with musical form in this way, where some sections are much less important than others, but all for a good reason in the end, was possible in the classical style. This piece enables Mozart to speak to an all-too-real aspect of our lives that not much music can evoke: long periods of putting on a good face through mundane discomfort and disconnectedness punctuated by occasional moments of honest emotion and insight that carry us through.