My Journey into Mozart’s Piano Sonata K. 332 in F Major

My Journey into Mozart’s Piano Sonata K. 332 in F Major

Mozart is arguably one of the most influential figures in the realm of classical music, known widely as the perfect genius of music; he’s recognized as an almost god-like deity by many musicians of all instruments, not only the piano. After all, Mozart wrote an innumerable number of works with only a fraction being for the piano. Today, I will be diving into the deep but intriguing world of his Piano Sonata in F Major, K-332. This was my second Mozart Sonata, the first being the Sonata in C Major, K. 545. I’ve always found Mozart a composer that had a similar chemistry to my taste; his music is, in general, fairly light and airy, perfect for enjoyment and prolonged listening. His music rarely becomes heavy like that of some of his successors, such as Beethoven or other Romantic composers. He was also considered the master melodist, and in fact, many years later, Frederic Chopin, the next master melodist, famously quoted on his deathbed, “play Mozart in memory of me–and I will hear you.” He also requested that Mozart’s Requiem be performed at his funeral, a true testament to Chopin’s love for the Classical composer.

The Sonata K. 332 was published in 1784, when Mozart was merely 28 years old, within the so-called “golden decade” of his musical freelancing career. The work is very operatic in character, as is Mozart’s signature musical style. After all, he wrote a wide plethora of operatic works, with some being “The Marriage of Figaro,” “The Magic Flute,” and “Don Giovanni,” colossal names in the world of opera. Another method of composition that Mozart utilizes very often in his music is Alberti-bass figuration. It is a repeated configuration of low-high-middle-high notes based upon a certain harmony.

Alberti-bass is a highly recognizable, frequently used left hand accompaniment pattern commonly observed in pieces of the Classical Era, used very frequently in Mozart’s piano works.

The main melody of the opening theme is a tranquil one, reminiscent of the Sonata in C major, K. 545. F major was always a very calm key in my experience, for it is most often portrayed in works of music as a gentle, lush atmospheric feeling. One prime instance of this is Beethoven’s Symphony №6 in F Major, “Pastoral.” As the name suggests, the piece is very collected in nature, and it radiates the relaxed, tender emotions of Beethoven. The opening melody of K. 332 along with the synergy of the accompaniment creates such a pure and crystal-clear environment, much like that of Schubert’s Impromptu in E-flat Major; a pristine, water-like song flowing through the music effortlessly and gracefully. Each tune is introduced fairly briefly, maybe a paragraph at most. Mozart is not like Chopin or Schubert who often tend to drag a single theme and build upon it for lines at a time, adding depth and texture to every following phrase. The short sections of this exposition, however short-lived, do not fail in demonstrating all of the different aspects of Mozart’s compositional style. This includes the polite and courtly manner of the Classical Period in general, as well as Mozartian humour and solemness.

In the first page of the first movement, Mozart travels through the compassionate opening theme, the humorous, whimsical part of Mozart; a light, bouncing theme, like a frolicking child in a green meadow. Just then, from the midst of the peaceful music, a villain appears. As I mentioned earlier, this piece is very operatic in character. I like to imagine an antagonist in a story; the ones that wear a black cloak, scheming in the middle of the night. The section is riddled with dissonant, clashing chords, emphasizing the serious nature of the theme. However, this is but the exposition when this section arises, so the theme passes quickly, giving way to a quick interlude and back into a more polite, playful side of Mozart once again. My teacher and I came up with the hypothesis that Mozart was intending to compose a minuet-like theme, one with a graceful and dancey rhythm. The transition happens so quickly into the new section that it is almost as if the solemn tune that could be heard mere moments before simply did not exist; there is nothing reminiscent of the previous section whatsoever, and the listener is transported from theme to theme in an almost invisible modulation.

After a short experience of the whimsical theme, we are taken to a section in the music that my teacher described as a “mini adventure.” In this part, the left hand leads, and the right hand answers in an intricate and delicate duet of two instruments. Both hands play in a very bouncy staccato, modulating through different keys in such a short time that the journey flashes in front of the audience’s very eyes, and before we know it, we are back at a similar courteous theme from before. Finally, we are led into a glorious cadence, giving an end to the exposition.

With little to no room for a breather, Mozart brings us right into the development, the section where all of the previous themes introduced in the exposition brew into a magnificent story. We find ourselves in a pleasant C major, up in the higher registers of the piano. I like to imagine a soprano or violin; any instrument with a higher pitch will do. It is crucial that the pianist creates a long line of the melody, just like an opera singer would hold the entire sentence with one single breath. It creates such a soulful effect that is impossible to miss when executed correctly. Then, Mozart sweeps the story one octave lower, handing the melody over to the alto or tenor voice. He writes forte, but it most definitely should not be a forced loud sound. Rather, I find it beneficial to pretend you are sinking into the piano; your entire weight leaning into the keys, generating a rich, lush sound that one might hear from a seasoned cellist with a Stradivarius instrument.

Mozart then proceeds to embark on the duet theme once more, the one we discovered from the exposition after the minuet. However, this time, he decides to take a darker path. He writes a diminished harmony, shattering the once innocent landscape and littering it with troubling dissonance. He battles on with the clashing chords and reaches a climax of some sort with the double thirds that climb down the piano, similar to a violin playing a run of double stops. But then, unexpectedly, he stops the music to a halt. He whispers in pianissimo an echo of the past troubles, using slightly gentler harmonies. After that, he opens up in forte, then back to piano, each time moving away from the distressing dissonances and back into the light of C major once again. At last, after a suspenseful rest, a wave of relief courses through the room as the ever familiar expositional melody returns once more. We have reached the recapitulation.

We are reunited with the themes of the exposition again, and the audience can experience the feeling of meeting an old friend after many years. Each subject comes back more celebratory; we are greeted with a fuller atmosphere than the expositional versions of these tunes. After a thrilling but fairly short-lived journey, we are met with one final victorious cadence that brings an end to the first movement.

The second movement, as most in the Classical period do, begins in a still, slow and lyrical song in a calm adagio. When I was actively studying this work, I did not give this movement much attention; at least not compared to the other two. I was a youthful soul, and perhaps I was not experienced enough to fully appreciate the beautiful nature of this second movement. I needed excitement to fuel my musical creativity; something like the third movement, which will come later in this passage, was a perfect example of the type of music I greatly enjoyed playing at the time. However, in retrospect, I quite regret the fact that I did not give the slow movement more attention and detail, for it was a real jewel of a composition that I could have savored much more.

Anyhow, looking back to the music itself, we are met by the lone aria, innocently singing on top of a mellow accompaniment. A pristine, crystal-clear top voice is essential to creating a soulful, rather vulnerable-sounding melody that Mozart likely intended. There are hints of melancholic textures that lie across the score of this piece, but amidst it, Mozart finds glimmers of hope that envelope the entire section. And, as always in Mozart’s music, we find a playful and joyous tone that is not to be missed in his compositions. Overall, the second movement is such a lovely tune, starting as it ended; a wholesome cadence that wraps the whole part in a sincere and heartfelt manner.

Silence covers the room, and the audience is put to a relaxed state by the calm middle movement. Just then, the pianist erupts in a brilliant forte, flashing down the keys at incredible speeds and precision. The third movement has begun. When I first heard this piece, I was studying for a test in school, and I was so surprised when the first forte chord was struck that I genuinely jumped from my seat. The character of this finale is so different from the previous two movements, and the contrast is what makes this piece truly great. It once again displays all of the various traits of Mozart’s musical style, and it is, without exception, an extremely thrilling experience to listen to this piece, which I have personally done so at least a couple dozen if not more than a hundred times. The introductory theme is so bright and joyous, it is difficult to imagine the gentle and sentimental tunes that came before in the first and second movements. The meter is in 6/8, a compound duple meter, creating an uplifting and energetic mood to the entire piece. Combine this with the light, bouncy accompaniment of the left hand in the second section, and we are introduced to a transcendent level of music-making that Mozart so kindly bestows to us in this work.

Right then, however, Mozart takes a very adventurous path in his music to modulate from the second theme back into the first; he begins a dark descending octave line that morphs back into major, and before long, he’s back in a bubbly stream of 16th notes along with the left hand creating a light, punctuating effect.

Suddenly, he takes a detour into C minor, and the atmosphere of the music takes a dramatic turn; a somewhat downcast melody can be heard, which only swells up as we enter the next phrase. However, this does not last long, for Mozart has regained his cheerful spirit back and is sprinting up and down the piano yet again in merry harmonies. He ends in a whimsical C major chord, and to be fair, he could have ended the entire piece just like that, and the audience would have risen from their seats in applause.

But alas, Mozart was a man of great taste and drama. He strikes a C minor chord, immediately after he just ended a section in the enharmonic major. He was a breaker of conventions after all, and he was willing to do outlandish things sometimes for the sake of musical entertainment. This new section is like the operatic villain we saw in the first movement, only this time he is in his final form; he has revealed the complete extent of his wrath. Mozart scrambles as he modulates through different keys to hastily reach his home key of F major. Eventually, he does so through four daring transitions, and he has escaped from the villain of C minor. He uses the following section to celebrate his victory, as I like to think of it, and simultaneously, he builds up to the recapitulation, the glorious climax we have all been waiting for. With suspenseful ascending harmonies, articulated with masterful precision, he rolls down the piano in one final flourish, and we explode back into the A theme again. I like to play this final cadenza like recapitulation with as much energy as possible, for it is the last time we are hearing this theme, and we as enjoyers of music should savor every bit of what is left of the piece. We meet all of our old friends once more in this final run through of the exposition, and we arrive at the final bars of the music.

However, these concluding measures are far from loud in any way. Instead, Mozart opts for a wisp-like finale; a happy reminiscent of the adventures that we have been through; the after thought of it all. The piece, contradictory to its glorious past, ends in a retired, soft pianissimo, disappearing into the air.

I find this ending so awe-inspiring. I really can’t explain it in words, but there is a mysterious charm in ending a flashy piece with just a soulful chord. Music does not always have to be a virtuosic show of skill and performance. Yes, it is exhilarating to watch the pianist raise their arms in the air after a magnificent chord like the “Pathetique” Sonata or Chopin’s Scherzo no. 2, but sometimes, a warm cadence is all you need.

All in all, this piece is such a gem of Mozart’s music, and it should really be played more than it is. It is a perfect beginner to intermediate level work that is not as intimidating as other massive sonatas of other composers such as Beethoven, and it can get one acquainted with the different qualities of Mozartian compositions, as we have explored in the piece. The third movement may be a little bit of a challenge for musicians who have yet to develop proper technique for fast playing, but it is a worthwhile investment of one’s time and effort.

Below, I will link a recording of pianist Daniel Barenboim, an absolute legend for his renditions of music in the Classical period. His sound is so crisp yet does not lose any of the color that Mozart’s music requires, and he was a very admirable figure of whom I took lots of inspiration and motivation from when I was studying this piece. And, of course, my own recording, which unfortunately only consists of the first and third movements (as I said, I regret my neglection of the second movement very deeply).

[embed]My recording — 10 yrs old

[embed]Daniel Barenboim’s recording