Glenn Gould and the Goldberg Variations
Let’s go to something timeless: classical music.
Although “timing” has a lot to do with it. To wit, pianist Glenn Gould and the Goldberg Variations by Johann Sebastian Bach.
For a while during the mid-80s Gould was a fascination of mine. I happened upon a biography in my local library, and thought it might be of interest even though I had only a vague notion of who Gould was. So I read about Gould before I ever heard him play.
That may seem a rather odd introduction to a performing musician of great renown, but it made me extremely curious, particularly the description of Gould as irresistibly humming along to the music, a singing habit that he tried to get rid of but could not, so it had to be somewhat blocked in the final product.
The first thing I listened to was his signature piece The Goldberg Variations, in the 1955 recording which had made his name as a very young man. It is impressively fast and fluid, and quite lovely (it’s long, so if you don’t want to listen to the whole thing right now just listen to a bit):
I grew fond of it. And then I heard the 1981 version, recorded not long before Gould died at the age of 50. It’s much slower, and I immediately liked it better, although there’s a lot of difference of opinion among Gould aficionados on that issue:
To me, the first version goes by in a whirring blur. It’s impressive in terms of showing off Gould’s technique, but it’s more shallow, skitting along the surface in a mad rush, impetuously youthful. The later version has focus and depth, and you can hear each line with extraordinary clarity. No matter how slow the tempo gets, Gould manages to draw it out beautifully and meaningfully, giving it its full due.
It turns out that Gould much preferred version two, as well. I suppose that makes perfect sense; why else re-record it? Here’s an interview with Gould about the two versions:
Gould was an eccentric who was not to everyone’s taste. But he was a deeply intelligent, one-of-a-kind musician, who could explain everything he did and knew exactly what he was doing.
Θάλαττα! θάλαττα! The 55 recording is really a bit of a wank, despite the incredible virtuosity. The 81 is a glorious progression and just makes so much more sense as a whole.
When I want to hear Bach sans Gould’s sing-a-long: Angela Hewitt or Wanda Landowska.
I found myself weeping the day Gould died. Somewhat of a surprise that, at the time — but then on reflection, not so much a big surprise: I think I guessed at what would be missed, never to be heard.
I too much prefer the second version and for the same reasons. I imagine that Bach would have as well.
FWIW, it’s said that Bach could play every instrument in the orchestra excellently and when commented upon, he expressed puzzlement, responding, “but… it’s just a matter of putting the right finger, in the right spot, at the right time…” 😉
I never was much of a fan of either Gould or Bach’s overly cerebral music (IMO). For me, Vladimir Horowitz is the standard to whom all other pianists are compared. But then, when it comes to classical music, I’m a romantic classisist.
Gould seems to me somewhat of a contradiction. He relished Baroque music for the counterpoint, polyphony, and strict structure. And yet he took great liberties with it almost like a romantic. He did everything wrong with his keyboard technique, but still managed to make great music – as long as he kept to Bach. His interpretation of Romantic composers like Brahms was way off the mark.
I like the earlier version. It has more life. The last one was thoughtful but plodding and reminds me of a particularly gruesome scene in Silence Of The Lambs.
It’s always tempting to get into arguments about who is more Catholic than the Pope (plenty these days, FWIW) when it comes to musical authenticity.
I certainly agree that away from Bach, Gould wasn’t quite the thing.
Landowska was criticised (of all things) for playing excessively Baroque harpsichords! In a way, though, I think she got it right: she purchased original exemplars and commissioned new models of the type of ‘big’ blinged out harpsichord that would have been used by court musicians and the aristocracy. What we hear too often today, are the rather more austere, unadorned, burgher did well in the dry goods trade owner type harpsichords favoured by the ‘original instruments’ fanatics who often seem to love austerity more than music.
Google YouTube’s 1933 recording of Landowska playing the Goldberg Variations.
Thank you for the direction to Landowska.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWD-JvJ-6yk
I agree that Landowska got it right. The harpsichord she used with the stops and dampers makes all the difference, very reminiscent of organs. The variations come alive.
If you’d like to watch something REALLY eccentric, watch the movie “Thirty two short films about Glenn Gould”. Gene Siskel liked it. I thought it was perplexing.
The Goldbergs are one of my very favorite pieces of music. I like Gould’s two versions about equally on an absolute scale, but for different reasons. I love the exuberance of the earlier one.
Tim Page Tim Page accepted The Grammy Recording Academy Lifetime Achievement Award on behalf of Glenn Gould at the Special Merit Awards Ceremony & Nominees Reception in 2013. Tim Page is also the editor of The Glenn Gould Reader. Tim Page’s memoir, Parallel Play, which recounts his growing up with diagnosed Aspberger’s Syndrome, is dedicated to Glenn Gould among others. According to Tim, he and Glenn Gould had more in common than just a love of music: Tim Page: ‘Glenn Gould had a lot of autism.’
GG’s Russian Journey:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e9KnOcG51LM
Enjoy!