On 23rd February, the Philadelphia Chamber Music Society presented the second solo harpsichord recital in its history, with Mahan Esfahani making his local debut. The Iranian-American keyboardist needs no introduction to those who follow the instrument – or his often colorful social media presence – but he came with a calling card: Bach’s Goldberg Variations. Esfahani has performed this pinnacle of the repertoire for more than a decade, recording it for Deutsche Grammaphon in 2016. The mark of a true artist, though, is reinvention, and Esfahani’s performance at the intimate Benjamin Franklin Hall highlighted the ways in which he’s still grappling with the work.
Shorn of its repeats, the Aria emerged at a daringly relaxed tempo, each note detached and floating in the air. Esfahani seemed to draw a roadmap for the listener, as if arranging puzzle pieces that would be put together in myriad ways across the subsequent hour of music. This approach also invited us to consider the simplicity of the progenitor tune and the feat Bach undertook by reworking it so inventively and tirelessly. Plunging headlong into Variation 1, the staccato notes suddenly swirled together into a lively polonaise, before dropping instantly to a searching, almost yearning account of Variation 2.
At times, Esfahani fought the expectations that audience members familiar with many interpretations of this piece might bring with them to a recital. His reading of Variation 7 was unusually luxurious, not exactly the spritely gigue one expects. He emphasized the supremely elegant texture of the writing that is sometimes lost when translated to a modern piano. Similarly, the “Black Pearl” Adagio, Variation 25, played with plenty of rubato, avoided lachrymose sentiment without sacrificing the sumptuous harmonic experience of this supremely beautiful music. Here and elsewhere, Esfahani fostered a sense of improvisation, particularly as he adjusted tempi within a single bar of music.
Throughout the performance, Esfahani created a narrative through-line, shining a spotlight on the similarities in progression across the 30 variations. The cross-hand variations told a unified story, which paralleled the canons. The more traditional variations on familiar categories of music seemed connected to what came next in the series – the preening attitude of Variation 10 melting into the more complex toccata in Variation 11, then brought to a close in the playful canon of Variation 12. (Gratefully, Esfahani is not shy when it comes to appoggiaturas.) The “Quodlibet” explodes the architecture of the cycle, so it made sense for Esfahani to approach this variation not with pomp and circumstance, but with a sense of gentle rumination. The return of the Aria, now replete with ornaments, concluded the journey on more traditional footing.
Offering an encore after a full performance of Goldberg is unusual and can seem somewhat gauche, but Esfahani made a way to weave his post-program selection seamlessly into the evening’s intellectual framework. Bist du bei mir also came to us from the Anna Magdalena Notebook, although its provenance is now firmly established as not Bach’s. As with the Goldberg Aria, Esfahani took the ditty at a leisurely pace, infusing the simple love song with a newfound sense of gravity. As with the 30 variations on a simple tune, it showed the possibilities of imagination and interpretation in their most essential form.
