you see, it seems like -- from my reading and experience at least -- for those whom Gould's work means something, it does so in more than just an ordinary way. And I'm certainly no exception. But it didn't begin like that, a love at first hearing. My first encounter with Gould was in a university cultural studies course, when my professor decided to show an excerpt (bless his soul) of Glenn Gould: Off the Record (National Film Board of Canada), a documentary on the Canadian pianist in the fifties. And since then several pilgrimages have taken place -- to see his pianos (one in the National Library in Ottawa; the other, on display at the G. Gould studio, part of the CBC building, in Toronto), his chair (also in Ottawa), and, of course, his gravesite in Mount Pleasant Cementary, Toronto.

The Goldberg Variations: On Gould's gravestone (a small plaque actually), there is appropriately etched the first bars of Bach's Goldberg Variations. It was his signature piece, the recording which made him famous in 1955. It is really the most spiritual of music I know -- by that, I mean there is a transcendental quality to it, something extra-ordinary, something sublime. I never tire listening to it.

'55 and '81: the two main recordings Gould made of the Goldbergs were in 1955, his debut recording for Columbia, and in 1981, a recording which he never lived to hear. Between these two, there exists the 1979 live Salzburg recital and, most recently, the CBC 1954 (yes '54!) one take recording. The recording I first heard, and fell in love with, is the 1955 version. It was with great excitement, then, when I realized there was another recording of this incredible piece. Comparing the two, as one pianist noted, is like comparing "the very good and the best".
  Gould first put the variations on disc when he was the same age as me now. That alone is amazing. He plays with great energy there, bringing to it the vibrance and arrogance of his age. Quick and confident, Gould pounds out the notes with precision and clarity. The later recording, however, is much different. It plays over thirteen minutes longer than its predecessor, at a pace more human. Or is it? The opening aria here starts off with a slow resonating note, revealing itself slowly, as if being coaxed. It is much more organic. The older Gould here pierces the music in a much more tempered, much more spiritual, or as he put it, more "deliberate" manner.

Salzburg story: during my visit to Salzburg in 1997, I happened to turn on the television in the hotel room at around midnight. I must have only flipped two channels when I saw a screen with some German on it, recognizing only "Glenn Gould" and "Bach". I waited anxiously. What followed, was the televised broadcasting of Gould playing the entire piece, all 32 variations, in one take. It was incredible. Thinking back, I like to believe it was something more than just coincidence.

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