Finding an old gem: Bach's fugue in E major
I was driving home the other night and heard something on the radio that I had to hear again. When it was over, the radio host said it was Bach's 6th Partita for piano. At home, I went through my recordings to see if I had a recording. When I worked at the late great Olsson's Books, I picked up a cool set of Glenn Gould's recordings on CD, boxed in cardboard sleeves reproducing the original record album covers. One disc I had never listened to contained the 5th and 6th Partitas, so I popped it in the CD player. There was a couple filler pieces too.
One of the fillers blew me away. I totally forgot about listening to the Partita. It was a fugue. Ok, it was a Bach fugue, so saying it was "a fugue" is like calling the grand canyon "a canyon." The melody was achingly simple, do re fa mi re do, but it strode effortlessly, almost at peace, with walking counter melodies. It was a typical Glenn Gould performance, perhaps a little romantic, but it reminded me that there is always something amazing to hear.
Take a listen.
Strident then tender, brave then retiring. Ok, it is Bach, who could do anything, and writing about music is like riding a bike about sculpture, but it's amazing what could be put into such a short piece with a basic form. It is hard to avoid being distracted by Gould's quirky playing style and his chair--I actually saw the chair in a museum in Ottawa. But it's hard not to play it over and over.
The recording I listened to and the video above were made in the later part of Gould's life. He recorded it when he was a young phenom at a tempo over twice as fast (less than two minutes compared to 5 minutes). I suppose age gave him another perspective on the music. The slower tempo allows one to hear every note and its relation with the next, with other notes in the chord, the arc of the simple, elegant phrase.
I eventually listened to the Partita that I originally heard on the radio. It was striking as well. But running across the fugue reminded me of something I'm finding to be true: the best things are those that you find when you're looking for something else, that seeking one thing leads you to another. I suppose the Buddhists would say "duh," but it doesn't hurt to be beautifully reminded. Thanks Glenn.
One of the fillers blew me away. I totally forgot about listening to the Partita. It was a fugue. Ok, it was a Bach fugue, so saying it was "a fugue" is like calling the grand canyon "a canyon." The melody was achingly simple, do re fa mi re do, but it strode effortlessly, almost at peace, with walking counter melodies. It was a typical Glenn Gould performance, perhaps a little romantic, but it reminded me that there is always something amazing to hear.
Take a listen.
Strident then tender, brave then retiring. Ok, it is Bach, who could do anything, and writing about music is like riding a bike about sculpture, but it's amazing what could be put into such a short piece with a basic form. It is hard to avoid being distracted by Gould's quirky playing style and his chair--I actually saw the chair in a museum in Ottawa. But it's hard not to play it over and over.
The recording I listened to and the video above were made in the later part of Gould's life. He recorded it when he was a young phenom at a tempo over twice as fast (less than two minutes compared to 5 minutes). I suppose age gave him another perspective on the music. The slower tempo allows one to hear every note and its relation with the next, with other notes in the chord, the arc of the simple, elegant phrase.
I eventually listened to the Partita that I originally heard on the radio. It was striking as well. But running across the fugue reminded me of something I'm finding to be true: the best things are those that you find when you're looking for something else, that seeking one thing leads you to another. I suppose the Buddhists would say "duh," but it doesn't hurt to be beautifully reminded. Thanks Glenn.
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