Mozart’s Bassoon Concerto in B-flat Major, K.191, often celebrated as a cornerstone of the bassoon repertoire, carries a murky history fraught with inconsistencies, much like his early violin concertos. Despite common belief, Mozart did not compose this concerto specifically for Thaddäus Freiherr von Dürnitz, an amateur bassoonist from Munich, as has been widely suggested. It was once thought that Mozart completed the piece on June 4, 1774, for Dürnitz, the same man for whom he later composed the Piano Sonata in D Major, K.284 in 1775. However, this timeline does not hold up under scrutiny.

Mozart only met Dürnitz at the end of 1774, after the bassoon concerto had already been written. Why, then, would Mozart dedicate a piano sonata to him instead of the already finished bassoon concerto? The letters between Mozart and his family make no mention of Dürnitz as a performer of the piece, nor is there any indication of another bassoonist friend who might have played it. This, in itself, raises doubts about the concerto’s original purpose and intended performer.

Musically, the Bassoon Concerto K.191 also presents contradictions. Mozart borrowed the opening theme from the Violin Concerto K.207, a work influenced by Josef Mysliveček, but the movements within K.191 feel disjointed. The first movement, with its Bohemian flavour, has a certain solidity, while the Andante is minimalist and restrained. The final movement appears to be a simple reworking of a basic dance form, creating an impression that the concerto may have been pieced together from various musical ideas, rather than crafted as a cohesive work. This leads to speculation that it may even be a sort of “pasticcio” rather than a unified composition.

Adding to the confusion is the existence of an incomplete Bassoon Concerto in F Major, K.196d, published by Breitkopf. The surviving fragment is so poorly suited to the bassoon that musicologists struggle to believe it was written by Mozart at all. Conversely, the Bassoon Concerto K.Anh.230a (K6 C 14.03), frequently attributed to Mozart, has fared better despite being the work of another composer—François Devienne. It is often performed as a “Mozart” piece simply because it is more aesthetically pleasing and commercially viable.

Around the same time as these dubious works, there is the Sonata for Bassoon and Cello (or Continuo), K.292a (K6 192c), another composition traditionally linked to Dürnitz. But, once again, there is no surviving autograph by Mozart, nor any concrete evidence tying it to him. The sole source for the sonata is a Breitkopf publication from 1805, known to be unreliable. Despite being included in Köchel’s catalogue, the sonata is almost certainly a forgery.

In these works, as in many aspects of Mozart’s legacy, we are left questioning both the authenticity and the true authorship. Whether driven by commercial interests or simply the lack of concrete evidence, many of these pieces remain attributed to Mozart, further muddying the waters of his already complex catalogue.