Each age seeks to recreate Mozart in its own image or an approximation thereof. There's nothing wrong with that. Nor do I have any issue with transcriptions; Mozart himself indulged in this practice (to wit, K270 & K 314). Nevertheless, when these phenomena consign Mozart to the front half of a concert as warm-up fodder for a pot-boiler, or serve as dinner-music at the court of St Anna of Wintour, it's a call-to-arms where the Hague Convention does not apply.
Inured to horrors though I be, I was flummoxed when I learnt of this abomination of desolation. Monsters exist - here's proof. How could anyone so bowdlerise K 459 - a work of profundity - and with a crappy harp of all things? Should it not come with a box of after-dinner mints too? To add insult to injury, Xavier de Maistre - a demi-god of metrosexuals - looks ever so photogenic and swish as he graces this production; is this not a terminus of sorts? Nothing of Mozart's weaponized beauty and the tension it so generates can survive such an onslaught: it's death by saccharine. The same treatment is meted out to K 545. Ingrid Haebler, in her November 1965 recording of this masterpiece, channels eternity at full fathom five and beyond. Here, it's averted with the stench of so much Chanel in the air.
I enjoyed the performance of the Flute and Harp Concerto even if it is somewhat pacey - I have heard more profound accounts of the slow movement (such as Mozart Flute Concerto KV 315 & Flute & Harp Concerto KV 299). As ever, Ivor Bolton elicits a stylish response from the Mozarteum Orchestra of Salzburg.
Respect yourself. Respect Mozart.