Review from Gramophone, Jan.2019

Seong-Jin Cho talks in the booklet interview about how much Mozart means to him and that conviction is apparent in these performances. He couldn’t wish for a more empathetic conductor in the D minor Concerto than Yannick Nézet-Séguin, while the COE combine the warmth of a traditional orchestra with the characterful wind and brass of the period-aware. These qualities are in evidence from the very start, with a keenly dramatic orchestral tutti, while the bassoon-playing at 4'02" is irresistible. Cho, though relatively forwardly placed, feels absolutely part of the ensemble, and moments such as the dramatic outburst beginning at 6'44" have real power. Occasionally I was bothered by Cho’s accentuation, which can rather stick out of the texture (from 8'19", for instance), compared to which Brendel and Mackerras sound powerful without edginess.

The Romanze is given with care but turn to Brendel, Andsnes or Pires (the last of these, with Abbado, exquisitely haloed) and you find a degree more naturalness. Perhaps that’s vastly unfair; Cho is, after all, only 24, and these are some of the greatest Mozart interpreters on the planet. But therein lies the conundrum: when you win a major competition (the Chopin) and get an exclusive recording contract, inevitably you’re out there in the full glare of the music world, ready or not.

The finale has a fizzing urgency to it and Cho’s filigree playing is very impressive, but again there are moments that sound just a little forced. Pires and Abbado are in less of a hurry here and reveal more of the subtleties of Mozart’s musical argument.

Of the two sonatas, K332 comes across more convincingly, with, in the opening movement, a nicely guileless approach to the major-key writing, which contrasts well with the driving minor-key passages. Cho is also alive to the shadows that lurk beneath the Adagio’s outwardly consoling demeanour. And the finale, which he takes at a fearless pace, is not only technically impressive but minutely reactive to Mozart’s shifts of mood.

While there’s some lovely quiet playing in K281, particularly in its bubbling finale, I find the tendency to overdo accentuation that was occasionally an issue in the concerto becomes more problematic here, particularly in the slow movement. William Youn is more naturalsounding, even though he chooses a slower pace, while Uchida’s delicacy is unrivalled. Alongside them, Cho sounds a touch contrived. Harriet Smith