Glenn Gould was born in Toronto in 1932, and enjoyed a privileged, sheltered upbringing in the quiet Beach neighborhood. His musical gifts became apparent in infancy, and though his parents never pushed him to become a star prodigy, he became a professional concert pianist at age fifteen, and soon gained a national reputation. By his early twenties, he was also earning recognition through radio and television broadcasts, recordings, writings, lectures and compositions. Early on, Gould’s musical proclivities, piano style and independence of mind marked him as a maverick. Favoring structurally intricate music, he disdained the early-Romantic and impressionistic works at the core of the standard piano repertoire, preferring Elizabethan, Baroque, Classical, late-Romantic and early-twentieth-century music; Bach and Schoenberg were central to his aesthetic and repertoire. He was an intellectual performer, with a special gift for clarifying counterpoint and structure, but his playing was also deeply expressive and rhythmically dynamic. He had the technique and tonal palette of a virtuoso, though he upset many pianistic conventions – avoiding the sustaining pedal, using détaché articulation, for example. Believing that the performer’s role was properly creative, he offered original, deeply personal, sometimes shocking interpretations (extreme tempos, odd dynamics, finicky phrasing), particularly in canonical works by Mozart, Beethoven and Brahms. Gould’s American début, in 1955, and the release, a year later, of his first Columbia recording, of Bach’s Goldberg Variations, launched his international concert career. He earned widespread acclaim despite his musical idiosyncrasies, while his flamboyant stage mannerisms, as well as his hypochondria and other personal eccentricities, fuelled colorful publicity that heightened his celebrity. But he hated performing – ”At concerts I feel demeaned, like a vaudevillian” – and though in great demand, he rationed his appearances stingily (he gave fewer than forty concerts overseas). Finally, in 1964, he permanently retired from concert life. Gould harbored musical, temperamental and moral objections to concerts, and aired them publicly: “The purpose of art,” he wrote, “is not the release of a momentary ejection of adrenalin but is, rather, the gradual, lifelong construction of a state of wonder and serenity.” Even before he retired, he was not satisfied with being a concert pianist; he made radio and television programs, published writings on many musical and non-musical topics, continued to compose. After 1964, this work away from the piano only intensified. He liked to call himself “a Canadian writer, composer, and broadcaster who happens to play the piano in his spare time.” His retirement was also fuelled by his devotion to the electronic media. Gould was one of the first truly modern classical performers, for whom recording and broadcasting were not adjuncts to the concert hall but separate art forms that represented the future of music. He made scores of albums, steadily expanding his repertoire and developing a professional engineer’s command of recording techniques. He also wrote prolifically about recording and the mass media, his ideas often harmonizing with those of his friend Marshall McLuhan. Though he never became the significant composer that he longed to be, Gould channeled his creativity into other media. In 1967, he created his first “contrapuntal radio documentary,” The Idea of North, an innovative tapestry of speaking voices, music and sound effects that drew on principles from documentary, drama, music and film. Over the next decade, he made six more such specimens of radio art, in addition to many other, more conventional, recitals and talk-and-play shows for radio and television. He also arranged music for two feature films. Gould lived a quiet, solitary, spartan life, and guarded his privacy; his romantic relationships with women, for instance, were never made public. (“Isolation is the one sure way to human happiness.”) He maintained a modest apartment and a small studio, and left Toronto only when work demanded it, or for an occasional rural holiday. He recorded in New York until 1970, when he began to record primarily at Eaton Auditorium in Toronto. In the summer of 1982, having largely exhausted the piano literature that interested him, he made his first recording as a conductor, and he had ambitious plans for several years’ worth of conducting projects; he planned then to give up performing, retire to the countryside, and devote himself to writing and composing. But shortly after his fiftieth birthday, Gould died suddenly of a stroke. Since then, he has enjoyed a remarkable posthumous “life.” His multifarious work has been widely disseminated. He has been the subject of an enormous and diverse literature in many languages. And he has inspired conferences, exhibitions, festivals, societies, radio and television programs, novels, plays, musical compositions, poems, visual art and a feature film (Thirty-Two Short Films About Glenn Gould). Moreover, his ideas – like McLuhan’s – still resonate strongly today in the world of digital technology, which was in its infancy when he died. His postmodernist advocacy of open borders between the roles of composer, performer and listener, for instance, anticipated digital technologies (like the Internet) that democratize and decentralize the institutions of culture. There is no question that Gould, more than any other classical musician, would have understood and admired digital technology – and would have had fun playing with it.
Glenn Gould - The Goldberg Variations - The Complete 1981 Studio SessionsArtists Glenn Gould
Release Date: 09/30/2022
Forty years ago, on September 2, 1982 – the year of Michael Jackson’s Thriller and Steven Spielberg’s E.T. – Glenn Gould’s legendary second recording of the Goldberg Variations closed a circle that his revolutionary 1956 recording of Bach’s masterpiece had opened. While his first recording is the exuberant, fast-paced work of a 22-year-old pianistic prodigy, his second is the measured, richly detailed interpretation of an experienced studio artist. Just five weeks later, the Canadian pianist died unexpectedly, leaving the world a masterpiece of recording art that – awarded two GRAMMYs – is still one of the most listened to classical albums worldwide.
In Gould’s 90th anniversary year and 40 years since the second album’s first release, Sony Classical is proud to announce the release of Glenn Gould: The Goldberg Variations – The Complete Unreleased 1981 Recording Sessions, a uniquely detailed window into the creation of this classic recording.
Across 11 CDs, the set includes the double GRAMMY-winning final release as well as everything committed to tape during the 1981 sessions, restored from the original ¼-inch analogue tapes and mastered using 24 bit / 96 kHz technology. As well as the takes themselves, the session recordings include Gould and the producers’ conversations, all of which are transcribed in a hard-cover coffee-table book which also contains an annotated score.
The 216-page book additionally features extensive documentation about the recording process including facsimiles of archival documents, a complete transcript of all studio conversations, as well as illuminating articles about the recording process – including the recollections of Richard Einhorn, one of the producers who worked with Gould on the recording.
Gould was famously dismissive of the earlier recording of Bach’s variations that had made his name, adopting a notably slower and more expansive approach the second time around. As Einhorn writes in his article: “Glenn’s thinking about the Goldbergs had evolved considerably since his original recording in 1955. As I understand it, he developed a way to interconnect the variations through an elaborate proportional tempo plan – the upcoming variation’s tempo would be some ratio of the previous variation. This would enable Gould to have a wide variety of musically related tempi for the set.”
Working in April and May 1981 and frequently recording late into the night, Gould and the CBS Masterworks studio team, headed by producer Sam Carter, were joined by the French filmmaker Bruno Monsaingeon, who was making a documentary series about Gould; Monsaingeon can also be heard in the recordings.
These sessions were also the last ever to take place at Columbia’s legendary 30th Street Studio in New York, the place where so many famed recordings were made by the likes of Miles Davis, Frank Sinatra and Leonard Bernstein.
Fascinating for any fans of this unique artist, this set documents and preserves a landmark recording, serves as a source for further research and offers captivating insights into the working methods of one of the greatest musical personalities of the 20th century.