In the 21st century, it's easy to take technology for granted and forget that in the time of Johann Sebastian Bach (b. 1685, d. 1750), there were no cars, busses, airplanes, TVs, radios, movies, tape recorders, electric lights, or computers. People used candles to light their homes, and horses were the fastest way to get around. There were excellent plays and opinionated theater critics to review them, but no cameras to film the actors and actresses. Recording technology had yet to be invented, so the only way to hear classical musicians was to hear them performing live. Although the classical artists of Bach's time could not be recorded, they left behind their compositions, and today's classical musicians continue to keep them alive.
"Clavier-Übung (keyboard exercise) consisting of an Aria with diverse variations for 2-manual harpsichord, dedicated to music-lovers to gladden their hearts, by J. S. Bach, composer to the Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, Kapellmeister and Civic Director of Music for Leipzig. Edited by Balthasar Schmid at Nuremberg.” So runs the very modest title for a piece of harpsichord literature that can be described only as a work of towering complexity and of the most profound expressive grandeur. Its richness derives on the one hand from its great number of rhythmic figures (only, perhaps with Stravinsky does such profusion again occur), and on the other hand from a composing style that makes use of almost all the possible canonic intervals and inversions.
What is a "Zenph Re-Performance"? That may well be the first question for buyers who encounter the cover of this disc without benefit of prior discussion. The short answer: software developed by North Carolina's Zenph Studios that can analyze the sounds of an existing piano recording, breaking them down into digital (numerical) representations of their physical components – tempo, dynamics, attack, duration, even pedaling.
Glenn Gould's recording debut in 1955 of Bach's Goldberg Variations took the world by storm. His decidedly un-Romantic view, absolute technical skill, startling lucidity, and right-on rhythmic changes, combined with his eccentricities–audible humming, sometimes outrageously fast tempi–made him an instantly legendary pianist and elucidated Bach's music in a whole new way. Gould's final recording, 26 years later, was also of the Goldbergs. It's a more relaxed, sometimes much slower, more inward reading (although still very much his own, complete with oddly ferocious attacks and accents), in which he offers repeats of the first half of 15 of the Variations. Both performances are glorious, each in its own way, and this luxurious new set of three CDs is entertaining, a joy to hear, and revelatory; it belongs in any music lover's collection. The third CD is devoted to outtakes and chatter from recording sessions. At one point, Gould improvises "God Save the King" and exhibits how it turns into "The Star-Spangled Banner." And a long interview with critic Tim Page offers great insight into Gould's weird humor and unique outlook. A must-have collection.