Mozarteans agree that his piano sonatas do not form a cycle of comparable quality to the piano concertos, or to the piano sonatas of Beethoven and Schubert. Yet they are never less than charming and often a good deal more than that. Angela Hewitt, who has already recorded a cycle of the Beethoven sonatas, has now turned her attention to Mozart, and is working her way through all of them. They are coming out in two-disc sets, of which there will be three in all. What we have here is the second set.

We begin with the sonata in D, K311. Mozart wrote this in Mannheim, during his travels with his mother and without his father. It is one of a pair, the other being the sonata in C, K309, which is in Hewitt’s first set. There is a vigorous Allegro, a gentle Andante, a theme with variations and a long and brilliant finale complete with a concerto-like cadenza.

Mozart wrote the sonata in A minor, K310, in Paris on the next stage of his travels. It was during this time that Mozart’s mother died, probably of typhus. This tragic work, one of only two piano sonatas by him in a minor key, may have been suggested by this event, but we do not know. It is certainly one of the finest of them. The peremptory opening is unmistakeable and the second subject, in C major, features an insistently winding line in the treble. In the recapitulation, even that second theme is now in the minor. The second movement is an Andante with a good deal of florid writing. The mood does not let up here nor in the final Presto. This is an uncomfortable masterpiece.

The next four sonatas were originally thought also to have been written in Paris, but more recent research puts them after his move to Vienna. It may be that their comparatively light and cheerful manner is a deliberate reaction to the poor reception of the A minor work. The C major sonata K330 is certainly pleasant, but its slow movement, with an eloquent minor key variation is something more than that.

The A major sonata, K331, has always been popular and deservedly so. Hewitt points out that it does not actually contain a movement in sonata form. It begins with a gentle theme which is made the subject of variations, including a surprisingly awkward one in the minor, with streams of octaves and another with numerous hand crossings. There is then a minuet, with more hand crossings and finally the ‘Rondo alla Turca’ which has become famous. This uses the so-called Turkish motifs which Mozart had recently exploited in the opera Die Entführung aus dem Serail.

In the final two sonatas here, the great Mozartean Alfred Einstein says that Mozart returned to the manner of J. C. Bach, whom Mozart knew personally and admired. They are both charmers, but the F major has a particularly beautiful and ornate slow movement. Hewitt plays here the more elaborate version of the first editions rather than the simpler one found in Mozart’s autograph; presumably he elaborated it on the proofs. In the B flat sonata, K333, Hewitt points out the sudden dark cloud that looms over the second party of the Andante cantabile second movement. She considers that this cannot be experienced twice in one performance, and therefore she does not make the repeat here. The finale is another concerto-like movement.

As well as the sonatas, we have here two of Mozart’s Fantasias, which surely give an idea of what his keyboard improvisations were like. The sombre C minor Fantasia, K396, with its rapid runs and double thirds seem to me to anticipate Beethoven’s use of C minor. The D minor is gentler, and Hewitt recalls playing it at her first full-length recital at the age of nine. Mozart left both Fantasias unfinished, and editors had to round them off, which perhaps explains their somewhat unbalanced construction.

Hewitt plays all these pieces with the greatest subtlety and care. I noticed the way she carefully differentiates different types of touch, the way her nimble fingers coast through every awkward corner and her sensitive phrasing. She plays every repeat except the one I noted earlier. This might seem a bit too much of a good thing, but then she often introduces a little ornamentation the second time round—not in the score, but added in true Mozartean style and in excellent taste. In her sleevenote—which she wrote herself—she quotes the pianist Artur Schnabel saying that ‘Mozart was too easy for children and too difficult for grownups.’ Amateurs, including myself, often have a go at these pieces, but to play them really well is another matter: the notes are relatively few, compared at any rate to Liszt or Rachmaninov, but they are so exposed. The bright tone of her Fazioli piano is admirably suited to the character of these works, and these performances seem to me ideal accounts of them.