BACH: Goldberg Variations, BWV 988 – Lars Vogt, piano – Ondine ODE 1273-2, 76:38 (8/14/15) [Distr. by Naxos] ****:
Recorded 24-26 March 2014, this survey of the Goldberg Variations by German pianist Lars Vogt (b. 1970) extends the interpretative legacy of two distinct traditions, that of Glenn Gould and Andras Schiff. Vogt freely admits having been influenced by the Glenn Gould aesthetic – an attempt to bring harpsichord sonority and pointillistic sound dynamics to the modern keyboard – as well as by Andras Schiff, who performs this magnum opus without pedal or “vibrato.” Vogt does not go quite so far in either direction, applying the pedal where he feels an “organ sonority” required, and he eschews the habit of playing repeats an octave higher.
Like both Gould and Schiff, Vogt feels that the basic structure of the piece survives on its own: a theme of 32 measures and the subsequent work of 32 pieces, the groupings of three ending with a canon, with a quodlibet at the conclusion. Vogt, while retaining his veneration for the work as an artistic and intellectual monument, allows that Bach enjoyed the plastic aspect of his experiment. The playfulness of the sequence directs Vogt to avoid deliberate, “romantic” slowness of tempo, to maintain a singing, moving line. The huge gesture at Variation 15, the canon at the fifth, entails a fiendish architecture of inversion, which Vogt manipulates with elan. The pair of variations, 18 (Canone alla Sesta) and 19, project a thoroughly delightful brio. Vogt’s touch, likewise, does not mince the sonic image: we hear in Variation 26, the same basal progression that inspires Handel and Rameau in their respective course of variation technique. Lars projects an intelligent, virile, bright color, although his particular instrument receives no credits. The one true Adagio, Variation 25 for two manuals, retains a flexible tension. For delicacy of execution, even as ornaments surround the progress, listen to Vogt’s deft realization of Variation 27, the Canone alla Nona and its delicious treble successor, Variatio 28.
Variation 29 prepares us for the culminating cleverness of style, the quodlibet, by thickening the texture and inserting a series of grand gestures. The fusing of two songs appears to meld the sacred and the profane into one synoptic vision; or, as Vogt puts it, “Grief and pain are a part of what we accept.” With the long-delayed return of the Aria – the hard-won resolution – Vogt immerses us in its cosmic glow, its song of thanksgiving. The cryptic relation of the One and the Many has found at least one explication.
—Gary Lemco
