Long regarded as the most serious and ambitious work for keyboard, the Goldberg Variations display J S Bach’s exceptional knowledge of the many different styles of music of his day, and his own exquisite performing techniques. Originating from a simple idea – a beautiful aria over a ground (repeating) bass – the thirty variations present the history of Baroque music in microcosm: lavish displays of modern, fashionable expressive elements of the high Baroque, with just a hint of Classical idealism, together with magnificent structure and formal beauty. There are dances and canons, riddles and doodles, lightning flashes and filigree arabesques. Not until Beethoven’s Diabelli Variations was a similar work conceived on such a scale from a seemingly simple initial idea.
First published in 1741, the work is named after Johann Gottlieb Goldberg, a leading harpsichord player of the time. The urban myth surrounding the variations is that they were played by Goldberg to Count Kaiserling, former Russian ambassador to the electoral court of Saxony, who was often ill and suffered from insomnia as a consequence. Goldberg played Bach’s variations to the Count to assuage his sleeplessness and to entertain him during the wee small hours.
The piece is eighty minutes long (when all the repeats are observed), and mostly in G major. By today’s standards, where concerts are usually divided into two halves of around 35 to 40 minutes each, with a variety of pieces of contrasting different keys, it may feel like a listening and performing marathon, but Bach’s ingenuity and inventiveness, his sense of pacing, drama and flow, contrapuntal skill, vast stylistic and emotional range, and the interweaving of the divine and the everyday ensure that the Goldberg Variations continually surprise and delight, drawing the listener into Bach’s miraculous and imaginative soundworld.
From the opening notes of the Aria, itself a miniature study in elegance and other-worldly serenity, Bach takes the listener on an extraordinary musical journey, one which is peppered with technical dizziness (easier on a double manual harpsichord, much harder on the piano where much intricate hand and finger gymnastics is required), varied time signatures, harmonies and textures, inner voices, surprising syncopations (yes, Bach is “jazzy”!), joy, wit, energy, enthusiasm, divinity, and even a Schumannesque dark night of the soul (in Variation 25). The return of the Aria at the end feels completely different from the first hearing: after it has undergone so many transformations, the simplicity of the original music is utterly wondrous. It is an opportunity to marvel and reflect on what has gone before, and, to quote pianist Jeremy Denk, “a sense that, at the end of something, it has all been worthwhile”.
In terms of recordings, for many (myself included) the benchmark remains Glenn Gould’s.
Aria played by Glenn Gould (1981 recording)