David Foster Wallace in a 1996 interview: “The only way I’m known at Illinois State is as a grammar Nazi. Any student whose deployment of a semicolon is not absolutely Mozart-esque knows that they are going to get a C.” Over the course of two hundred and fifty years Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, a precocious, pockmarked, provokable, prolific composer has become an abstract noun, synonymous with an exact combination of genius, clarity, elegance and playfulness. At the Queensland Symphony Orchestra Plays All Mozart, the first three of these were present but the fourth was sadly lacking; an impressive, yet phlegmatic performance resulted.

Conducted by Jessica Cottis (an organist until carpel-tunnel syndrome pushed her to study law followed by conducting at the Royal Academy of Music where she is now a Manson Fellow) the QSO began with Symphony No.31 in D Paris. Composed under the chaperoning of his mother and the Polonius-esque advice of his father: “Win fame and make money in Paris, [then] go off to Italy and get commissions for opera,” the symphony is crafted to please. The first movement bursts forth with the coup d’archet: an explosive, accelerating, staggeringly confident D-major line. With the entire opening movement featuring full strings, brass, woodwind and timpani orchestration, QSO’s power boomed through the Concert Hall. Perfectly in tune, perfectly in time and perfectly in accordance with the extensive history of Mozart renditions, the performance exemplified the fastidious rigour that Cottis brings to her craft.

Such proficiency was equally, if not more evident, in Shlomo Mintz’s solo work. The violinist handled the cadenzas that litter the two concerti (Turkish and Strasbourg) with a delicacy, ease and impeccable technique. His ability to convey an emotional range beyond any rational comprehension, simply with horsehairs on catgut defines his brilliance. 

The final symphony of the night, fittingly Mozart’s final symphony (Jupiter) extolled all of the virtues and the trappings of the previous three pieces. The symphony that is so playful, so brimming with jouissance, has become stultified. Its tempo, dynamics and overall interpretation have become so entrenched that any deviation can only result in disappointment and cries of blasphemy. This is not to say it was poorly performed or even lacked excitement – the culmination of the first movement brought whoops to which Cottis dryly retorted: “There’s more to come you know,” – but Mozart has ceased to be surprising. And until we recover the daring, the braggadocio, the mischief in Mozart, no performance can be Mozart-esque. 

- Damian Maher