Clocks and counterpoint: The ‘organ’ music of W A Mozart
It is well known that Mozart highly esteemed the organ as an instrument (for example, his famous ‘King of Instruments’ remark) and enjoyed improvising at length. Indeed, from his childhood onwards he often took the opportunity to play instruments when visiting a new town. However, this sadly did not translate into writing for the instrument. So it turns out that the first question for any performer seeking to record a reasonably complete collection of Mozart’s organ works is, rather unusually: ‘What are they?’

To take Bach as a comparison: while there are a number of pieces of doubtful attribution, the instrument expected for performance can mostly be determined with little controversy, and moreover, there are a range of indications from the period concerning performance conventions, should one wish to follow them. With Mozart, by contrast, we do at least know what he wrote. The problems are instead whether this or that piece might have been conceived, even vaguely, for the organ; and even in the case of the three late masterpieces clearly written for ‘organ’ (that is, a mechanical instrument with the sound produced by pipes) there are numerous issues concerning how best (meaning, not only how conveniently but also how appropriately) to render them with two hands and feet, not to mention how to register them suitably.

I discuss below some of the issues bearing on the inclusion of pieces in this collection; however, a word about some not included. Some performers have included the wonderful Adagio in B minor, K540, as an organ piece, but few scholars mention it in this regard. My feeling is that it relies too heavily for its (undoubted) expressive effect on the dynamic nuances (particularly fp) available on the fortepiano. Some organists, equally, include one or more of the 19 Epistle Sonatas with strings in their collections; delightful as they often are, however, they are beyond the scope of an essentially solo collection.

Mozart and counterpoint
One reason for including some of the music here is its contrapuntal style and what that represented for Mozart. For his gradual rediscovery of Baroque music, and in particular counterpoint, around 1782 was somewhat tied in with his enjoyment of the instrument (in a kind of ‘organ-counterpoint-Baroque’ nexus). Mozart’s debt to Baron von Swieten, in terms of exposure to Baroque music (and specifically contrapuntal music by Bach and Handel) is well known, but it is clear from letters from the 1770s, documented by Robin Langley in his article ‘Mozart and the Organ’ in the RCO Journal (volume 3, 1995), that Mozart was already very mindful of the suitability of contrapuntal music (and specifically fugues), rather than the lighter or freer textures that his listeners might have expected, when he was improvising on the organ. In addition, the influence of Constanze, with her liking for fugues and counterpoint, should not be underestimated; this affords an intriguing parallel with Robert and Clara Schumann’s shared love of counterpoint in the 1840s, which resulted in several works by Robert including the BACH fugues.

The importance of Mozart’s efforts in counterpoint as a catalyst for the greatness of his later style in general must also be borne in mind. Thus, although fugues such as K394 and K399 may be accomplished rather than inspired (and various writers have suggested this, fairly or unfairly) their ultimate value is perhaps found in the contrapuntal richness of works such as the C minor Mass, Requiem and ‘Jupiter’ Symphony.

Mozart and clocks
In 1790 Mozart received an unusual commission. Count Josef Deym, a former soldier now under the name Müller, had assembled a museum of waxworks and assorted curiosities in Vienna. It included a number of musical automata (of the kind that were highly popular around that time) such as clocks which ‘played’ music at set intervals. One room of the museum housed a mausoleum in memory of Emperor Joseph and Field-Marshal Laudon, who had both recently died. It was for this that K594 seems to have been written, while the later pieces, 608 and 616, might not have been, although 608 at least was subsequently ‘played’ in it. Indeed, which piece might have been written for which instrument (with the attendant questions of modern performance practice) seem complex to say the least. In this connection I am indebted to Otto Deutsch’s 1948 article in Music and Letters, ‘Count Deym and his Mechanical Organs’, as well as that of Annette Richards in the same journal in 1999, ‘Automatic Genius: Mozart and the mechanical sublime’ which explores a wider range of historical and philosophical issues, in particular around K608.

Mozart, it seems clear, found the commission from Deym onerous and boring: ‘if it were for a large instrument and the work would sound like an organ piece, then I might get some fun out of it. But as it is, the works consist solely of little pipes, which sound too high pitched and too childish for my taste.’ However, for the modern performer seeking to reproduce the essence of the pieces and perhaps Mozart’s intentions, this cuts both ways! As Mozart frustratedly expected it, or as Mozart might imaginatively have wished it?

Overture from Suite in C K399
The Suite in C, K399, dating not surprisingly from 1782, is clearly an exercise in Baroque style, in particular that of Handel; after the traditional Allemande and Courante, it breaks off after five bars of the Sarabande. The opening Overture (an appropriate beginning to this programme) is cast in the classic ‘French overture’ style, with an imposing grave section, replete with dotted rhythms and flourishes, followed by a lively fugue. It is the movement from the Suite most suited texturally to the organ, requiring only occasional use of the pedals; indeed, on a GG compass organ such as was common at least in England in the 18th century it would fit the tessitura exactly. Being designed to segue into the Allemande, it ends on the dominant, and is therefore followed here by the Fugue in C, K383a/394.

Fugue in C major K383a/394
According to a letter of Mozart’s, this fugue clearly owes its existence to Constanze and her enthusiasm for fugues by Bach and Handel. Mozart wrote it for her in 1782, adding a Prelude (also known as Fantasia) later. He was slightly disparaging of it, and it has subsequently been criticised for its ‘worthiness’—Einstein in his classic Mozart compares it with the naturalness of Bach—although it does have a kind of serene grandeur, with expressive diatonic dissonances, and Hutchings in the Mozart Companion speaks of ‘distinct nobility of an austere order’. It certainly suits the sostenuto character of the organ well, and (as Langley notes) has some obvious places for the use of the pedals.

Adagio and Allegro in F minor K594
K594 was described in the ‘Wiener Zeitung’ in August 1791 as follows: ‘by the unforgettable composer Mozart … in precision and purity [it] surpasses anything that was ever attempted to be suitably applied to this kind of artistic work’ (quoted by Deutsch); and although Einstein for one sees some evidence of Mozart’s frustration in it, it has generally been highly regarded since. Hutchings, for example, describes it as ‘monumentally dignified…powerful, sonorous, original’. It is a triptych like K608, but with the sections reversed: a tightly argued fugal movement in sonata-form (with both parts repeated) enclosed by expressively chromatic adagio sections in the tonic minor. The central section, with its martial opening, perhaps reflects Laudon the Field-Marshal, although it has also been described as resembling a Handel organ concerto.

In terms of performance, the central section presents, like K608, technical challenges of realisation for which each performer has to consider their own solutions; those of the outer sections, with their more Romantic character, are more to do with registration and rubato. The performer is tempted, for example, towards the use of orchestral sonorities which would almost certainly not have been available on the organ in question but might well have been in Mozart’s mind.

Fugue in C minor K426/546
This fugue, written in 1783, is in some ways an interloper on this disc, being not for organ but originally for 2 pianos (and then later arranged for strings, with the addition of the Adagio in 1788, the pair subsequently catalogued as K546). On the other hand, it firmly inhabits the same territory as the other fugal movements gathered here, and particularly towards its close it bears some intriguing similarities to passages in K608. It also lies well for the instrument in terms of register and to some extent style, albeit presenting significant technical challenges in whosever arrangement one chooses (this one is by the noted Victorian organist W T Best). Hutchings describes it as ‘a noble work, but a strained one’ and certainly Mozart is at pains to wring out every contrapuntal possibility from his material. The second part of the subject, widely developed, gives the whole piece a considerable—even remarkable—degree of chromaticism.

Andante in F major K616
It has been suggested that it may in fact have been with K616 in mind that Mozart wrote his remark about the ‘high and childish pipes’, since of the three pieces in the late group this contains the narrowest range of register—although one could argue that ‘high and childish pipes’ would matter less in in a light Andante rather than a larger piece. In any case, in K616 Mozart explores and exploits his modest territory with masterly resource, putting one in mind of Jane Austen’s ‘little bit of ivory, two inches wide’. The form is that of a sonata-rondo, and the manner is galant in its apparent simplicity and rococo in its filigree decoration; yet as soon as bar 5 the mature Mozart is on show in the expressive inflection towards first G minor and then D minor. Towards the end Mozart constructs three-part counterpoint of particular beauty which inescapably calls to mind Die Zauberflöte.

Pieces from the Londoner Skizzenbuch K15a-ss
From 1764-5 the young Mozart visited London as part of his extensive tour of Europe between 1763-6, and at various times jotted down a large number of short keyboard pieces. Some seem to be reductions of possible orchestral excerpts, but one assumes that most were imagined for harpsichord or fortepiano. Yet we also know Mozart played the organ at Buckingham Palace (then The Queen’s House) and elsewhere, and was already generally highly regarded as a performer on the instrument. This selection has been based on two things: first on quality, since some of the pieces seem quite rudimentary or indeed surprisingly ungrammatical (which Ulrich Leisinger in the Wiener Urtext edition suggests may be down to the nomadic circumstances of their composition, lack of a keyboard, and so on); and second on suitability for the organ. Thus I have avoided pieces relying too heavily on pianistic figurations (such as LH arpeggios), whereas the running RH demisemiquavers of the D major KV15o, as Langley and others have remarked, seem related to the Cornet voluntaries of Stanley and others which Mozart may well have heard during his trip (even if the high chords it contains are less suitable for that registration), while the galant figurations of 15q or 15ii recall, for example, the organ solo in the Benedictus of Haydn’s ‘Little Organ Mass’. A movement in vigorous fugal style such as the C minor gigue of 15z seemed appropriate to include on an organ disc full of fugal movements, even while one might discern in it some faint pre-echoes of a development section of a symphony; and the rondo of 15hh shows pleasing maturity in its episodes, exploring related minor keys.

Fugue in G minor K401
The G minor Fugue, dating from 1771-3, is surprisingly little known, being a strong and inventive example of reasonably mature Mozart in Baroque ‘organ’ mode. Listed in the NMA as an organ piece, it is nevertheless unclear as to whether it is for piano or organ, or for either: while it lies very well for organ with pedals, and its style and texture reinforce this, it is pretty much impossible for the piano in places due to its wide stretches. On the other hand, at least one account exists of Mozart playing it successfully on the piano, much to the listeners’ surprise. It may well have been designed for pedal-piano (again, like some of Schumann’s works); there is indeed a variety of evidence about Mozart’s use of the pedal-piano, albeit from later in his career.

Although unfinished, K401 is fortunately complete as far as what seem unarguably like its penultimate stages, including along the way some vertiginous modulations to keys as remote as E minor, which a ‘completer’ would hesitate before daring to include. The completion by Stadler, included in the complete edition, has been widely adopted over the years; however, as an alternative I have employed the marginally fuller one by Christoph Albrecht for the Bärenreiter edition of the organ works.

Zwei kleine Fugen (Versetten) K154
The two early little Verset fugues K154 are organ pieces and not without character, and although extremely brief certainly deserve inclusion in that regard.

Ach Gott, vom Himmel K620b
The contrapuntal study Ach Gott, Vom Himmel is another fragment (very far from complete) which nonetheless merits inclusion here for various reasons: partly since it seems to be an authentic passage for organ, partly for the expressive quality of its counterpoint, and partly of course for its inevitably rather evocative connection to the noble material eventually forming the ‘armed men’ duet in Die Zauberflöte.

Gigue in G major K574
To some extent another contrapuntal exercise, but one with engaging and quirky high spirits in its chromatic twists and syncopated phrasing, is the short Gigue K574 written in 1789. It is generally thought of as a piano piece, although written for Saxon Court Organist Engel, and frequently played on the organ (and discussed by Langley in that connection). It has plausible thematic connections to both Bach and Handel, but as Hutchings puts it also ‘succeeds brilliantly in being utterly Mozartean in [its] humorous, parodistic manner’.

Adagio in C for Glass harmonica K356
This exquisite miniature also dates from the last year of Mozart’s life when he made the acquaintance of the instrument, invented in 1761 by Benjamin Franklin and popularised in part by Marianne Kirchgessner, for whom this and the Rondo K617 were written. Although not an organ piece, it earns its place here partly since performances on the glass harmonica itself are (not surprisingly) rare, and partly since the sustained quality of the organ perhaps best approximates to the other instrument. However, it also bears a close affinity to the pieces for mechanical organ of the same last period, not to mention parts of other late works such as Ave verum corpus or Die Zauberflöte. Indeed H Robbins Landon speaks of its ‘unearthly beauty’ exactly in this context.

Allegro and Andante in F minor K608
Mozart’s greatest and most famous ‘organ’ piece is surely K608. One measure of his achievement here is to consider the impossibility of any other composer of the time producing it—even Haydn or Beethoven, let alone a minor contemporary. (It is instructive that Beethoven made a copy, and it is tempting to speculate as to its influence on him, for example in the 'Eroica' slow movement.) Here Mozart builds with assurance on his assimilation of Baroque idioms, with outer movements which use the traditional ‘French-overture’ model of dotted-rhythm march as well as expert and powerful fugal writing. No trace of ‘worthiness’ here! These sections enclose a central aria with variations that could have come straight out of one of his operas or piano concerti. Mozart’s harmonic daring in the outer sections is considerable, using bold enharmonic shifts; in the central section it is the textural inventiveness that delights, with increasingly proliferating counterpoint.

The technical challenges involved in realising the piece are once more considerable: the score was again produced on 4 staves, and performers and editors over the years have devised various versions. (A more-or-less exact rendition involves a fair amount of double or triple-pedalling and a number of pedal trills). The obvious stature and gravitas of the piece also raises particular questions about registration, such as 16’ registers and reeds, and the extent to which to ‘orchestrate’ the central section: the specification of the instrument for which Mozart was writing is not known, but not long afterwards at least one large example with these types of stops is recorded. Accordingly, here I have tried to steer something of a middle course, between the possible ‘authenticity’ of ‘shrill and tiny childish pipes’ and the heavy grandeur of a large 20th-century Romantic organ, in an effort to do justice to this masterpiece.

David Goode © 2025