{"id":2788,"date":"2012-04-05T08:54:34","date_gmt":"2012-04-05T13:54:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.ludwig-van.com\/?p=2788"},"modified":"2012-04-05T08:54:34","modified_gmt":"2012-04-05T13:54:34","slug":"the-long-hard-road-to-capturing-the-genius-of-goldberg-variations-is-paved-with-trial-and-error","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.ludwig-van.com\/toronto\/2012\/04\/05\/the-long-hard-road-to-capturing-the-genius-of-goldberg-variations-is-paved-with-trial-and-error\/","title":{"rendered":"The long, hard road to capturing the genius of Goldberg Variations is paved with trial and error"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

The relationship between imagination and reality lies at the core of a satisfying encounter with art — in any of its forms.<\/p>\n

I’ve been reminded and prodded by this fact over and over again so far in 2012, most recently by Canadian pianist David Jalbert’s impressive new recording of the Goldberg Variations<\/em><\/a> by J.S. Bach, for the ATMA label (for my review, as well as a meditation on the appeal of Bach’s many challenges, click here<\/a>).<\/p>\n

For Jalbert, composers Peter E\u00f6tv\u00f6s and John Beckwith and soprano Ren\u00e9e Fleming — four artists of vastlydifferent backgrounds and aesthetics, representing the creative and interpretive sides of the musical equation — the key to feeling satisfied with their work is being able to translate what they hear in the head into something they can share with the rest of the world.<\/p>\n

Young music students, who have to learn the language of music in the same labour-intensive way as learning any other new language, are often visibly frustrated as the beautiful rhapsodies sounding in their mind’s ear come out in squeaks and pinky-plonks as their fingers scrabble to find the right notes.<\/p>\n

It’s not much different for a composer, for whom it takes years of trial and error before musical thoughts begin to resemble anything worth performing in front of a paying public.<\/p>\n

This process of bringing imagination and the realisable into line with each other also knows no point of arrival. It is a lifelong journey, not a destination — which is how Fleming, at age 50, can say that only now she is beginning to feel like she can do with her voice what her mind has long wanted to do with it.<\/p>\n

An extreme example of the forever-beyond-one’s-reach work of artistic genius is the Goldberg Variations<\/em>, one of the ultimate tests of the interpreter’s art as well as skill.<\/p>\n

Even Glenn Gould, the granddaddy of all modern-day Goldberg<\/em> interpreters, did not achieve this on his own, and his interpretation changed substantially over the course of his life.<\/p>\n

Violist Rivka Golani recently told me that her friend, the late harpsichord player and University of Toronto professor Greta Kraus, had sworn her to secrecy about multiple visits from Gould, who was looking for advice on how to perform Bach.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>Over a coffee, Jalbert describes the two-year process of learning, absorbing and shaping the Goldberg Variations<\/em> ahead of a three-day recording session at the Palais Montcalm in Qu\u00e9bec City.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt’s important to take them out in public over a long time, so that they would have the opportunity to grow. That\u2019s not something that happens on its own,\u201d he says. \u201cIt\u2019s one of those pieces that, when you start working on it, you already have an idea, because everyone grows up listening to this piece. You have your own conception of it \u2013 or think<\/em> you have a conception of it \u2013 before you get your fingers in it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Are the original idea and final, recorded interpretation close or different?<\/p>\n

\u201cProbably close \u2013 although the way there is convoluted,” Jalbert replies. “It\u2019s amazing how complicated it is. I wish there was more of a direct link between what you see in your head and being able to execute it right away.<\/p>\n

“With music that\u2019s comfortably written for piano, there is a much shorter time span between having a clear conception in your head \u2013 when you have a good technique \u2013 and being able to achieve it on the piano. But, with most Bach, it takes a while. It\u2019s finding the right sound, the right amount of pedal and, of course, the variations and the repeats of the variations add a very creative aspect.<\/p>\n

“For each variation, you have two sections, each of which is repeated. You have to come up with a plan to vary the repeat, to make it more interesting, to change the mood, the articulation, the dynamics. So, of course, you don\u2019t have a lot of that planned out ahead of time. A lot of that is trial and error.”<\/p>\n

Jalbert’s life was further complicated by a full-time teaching position at University of Ottawa, where he is also coordinator of the\u00a0 chamber-music programme, and having to split his time between Montreal and Ottawa.<\/p>\n

He says some days would involve five to six hours at the university, followed by another five hours of practice on the piano.<\/p>\n

“I spent a lot of very late nights just going back to the piano, well after the neighbours would have thought that I should, just to try something else,” he recalls.<\/p>\n

“You know, you\u2019re lying in bed and you have this other idea \u2013 hey, what if I \u2026. so you go and try it. Sometimes it works, but, most of the time, it doesn\u2019t,” Jalbert chuckles.<\/p>\n

His most trusted advisors were his own ears.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s so hard to have an ear outside of yourself when you are performing,” the pianist explains. “The newer a work is to you, the greater the distance between your own perception of your performance and what it sounds like from the other side. So I record myself quite a bit.”<\/p>\n

It’s a necessary evil, as far as Jalbert is concerned.<\/p>\n

“It\u2019s awful and miserable. No one wants to hear themselves,” he says. “That\u2019s one of the great truths about classical playing: Most people don\u2019t like their own playing when they hear it. It\u2019s\u00a0 just like most radio announcers hate their voice. It\u2019s always difficult to do, but I always made myself to record a new ornament or articulation, just to prove that it\u2019s not just all in my head.”<\/p>\n

One of the remarkable things about Jalbert’s interpretation is the overall balance between all of the voices in Bach’s music.<\/p>\n

He calls his process of getting there “hyper-memorization,” where he would play each section over and over, highlighting a different voice each time. “That’s the fun of working with counterpoint,” he adds, alluding to a natural affinity for music with an architectural base.<\/p>\n

“Bringing out one voice is not enough. It doesn\u2019t pay homage to everything there is in the music,” Jalbert continues. “So, if you learn to control one of the parts through a whole section, then you learn to control another part through a whole section, then you try to have them both doing something interesting at the same time, listening to both at the same time.\u201d<\/p>\n

The pianist, who studied organ for two years, likens it to working with singers, \u201cYou have to balance each of these lines, have them singing, then adding yet another layer on top of that. It\u2019s choir management, really.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy favourite music of Bach’s is his choral music, the St. Matthew Passion<\/em>, the B-minor Mass<\/em>,” Jalbert admits. “That\u2019s his most extraordinary stuff. Everything has to sing.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt takes a long time for a brain to get comfortable with all of this stuff.\u201d<\/p>\n

Here, to illustrate the point about the counterpoint needing to sing (and in honour of Holy Week), here is some Bach in minor keys — the first two in C minor, the last in E minor (E-flat in modern pitch):<\/p>\n

Jalbert playing a Toccata<\/em>, BWV 911:<\/p>\n