I wouldn't expect the opinions of a non-musician on things eminently musical to carry much weight, yet after recently listening to pianist Glenn Gould's two versions of Bach's Goldberg Variations I feel moved to type for my chums a recommendation.
But first, are you someone who actually listens to music or someone who simply hears it? I have sometimes regretted that I find myself within the former group, concluding that I've invested far too much of my, let's face it, finite existence lolling my head back on the sofa in devotion to the sonic sensations of my stereo system, selfishly excluding any other activity. A luxury indulged, I'm sure you'll agree, but, all things considered, I reckon I'm enriched for making that occasional choice. Indeed, at my age I'm prone to recalculate the values that I've previously applied to my career, with the result that I quite often am appalled by my existential innumeracy.
Musically, 'variation' denotes a stylized and embellished recapitulation of a simple melodic theme (Bach describes his as an 'aria'). Bach's scores have come down to us with few instructions on the manner in which they should be performed, so musicians' interpretations are varied, as evidenced by the plethora of recordings available. This prescriptive lack is something of which Gould takes full interpretative advantage. He seems to cover the whole gamut of emotion such that, during the aural experience, I felt variously the need to stop the world so I might alight only to be capriciously changed of mind and impelled to rejoin our global carousel whole-souled: the tenebrific trough to the solace of spring sunshine.
But first, are you someone who actually listens to music or someone who simply hears it? I have sometimes regretted that I find myself within the former group, concluding that I've invested far too much of my, let's face it, finite existence lolling my head back on the sofa in devotion to the sonic sensations of my stereo system, selfishly excluding any other activity. A luxury indulged, I'm sure you'll agree, but, all things considered, I reckon I'm enriched for making that occasional choice. Indeed, at my age I'm prone to recalculate the values that I've previously applied to my career, with the result that I quite often am appalled by my existential innumeracy.
Musically, 'variation' denotes a stylized and embellished recapitulation of a simple melodic theme (Bach describes his as an 'aria'). Bach's scores have come down to us with few instructions on the manner in which they should be performed, so musicians' interpretations are varied, as evidenced by the plethora of recordings available. This prescriptive lack is something of which Gould takes full interpretative advantage. He seems to cover the whole gamut of emotion such that, during the aural experience, I felt variously the need to stop the world so I might alight only to be capriciously changed of mind and impelled to rejoin our global carousel whole-souled: the tenebrific trough to the solace of spring sunshine.
Both of Gould's versions are wondrous achievements and yet there are vast differences in their execution. The first was recorded in 1955; Gould chose to revisit the project in the studio for release in 1981. The two are available together on CBS and freely available on Spotify. The album also contains a lengthy interview with Canadian Gould, whose lofty ideas and responses are less sublime than his playing. In this semi-rehearsed discussion, Gould's view of Mozart as an atrocious composer is one of the themes covered and seems, even to a dilettante like me, extreme, or at least, contrary.
For an in-depth discussion of Bach's Goldberg Variations look no further than Wikipedia.
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