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When tackling the Goldberg Variations, it’s hard to take a path that hasn’t been trodden 100 times before. Víkingur Ólafsson’s vision of the work last Wednesday evening at Salle Bourgie, however, had a singular freshness that made the audience momentarily forget all the times they’d heard it before.
The Icelandic pianist’s interpretation is a blend of elements and practices that at first seem contradictory. He demonstrates an immense respect for this immortal opus and, at the same time, a malicious interest in challenging the status quo. An old-fashioned approach to the keyboard and, at the same time, a consummate romanticism in which all flexibilities are allowed. A willingness to savor every moment, every friction, and at the same time, a casualness in moving from one variation to the next. In short, everything and its opposite.
At first, this interpretation is as off putting as it is fascinating. Once the surprise wears off and the audience comes to terms with the contradictions, we realize the depth of what is unfolding before our eyes: the artist is telling us, in his own way, a story in 32 chapters. He takes us on a long journey, before returning home (in this case, back to the aria we know). Ólafsson takes care to reinforce dynamic contrasts with each change of tempo, creating new adventures within this journey.
Right from the introduction to the Goldberg Variations, the aria demonstrates Ólafsson’s dedication to bringing the slightest vibrations emanating from the piano to life. His expert touch enables him to bring out the melodic line of his choice, not just in the upper voice or the bass, but in the inner voices which, for the average pianist, are difficult to emphasize.
One of the reasons why Ólafsson’s atypical vision of the work is so impressive is his choice to link certain variations together, despite it not being written that way. The artist extends the final note of a variation with the pedal – impossible to reproduce on a harpsichord or pianoforte – and melts it into the note that opens the next variation, creating a slow metamorphosis.
The highlight of the evening, and its emotional apex, is undoubtedly Variation no. 25. Curled up on his keyboard, the pianist touches the depths of the human spirit, vulnerable in the face of adversity. He plays this adagio with heart-wrenching gentleness and the slowest tempo – so slow that notes stand out from one another, speaking to us individually of the experience of suffering. The result is a piece that is no longer Baroque, but Romantic in style, at the risk of going too far: the performer’s interpretive choice is open to debate, as Bach’s music is sufficiently pathos-filled, and need not be added to in this way.
Ólafsson then plunges into the opposite excess, in the manner of his earlier variations, marked by unbridled virtuosity. He brings the cycle of 32 episodes to a furious close, with a breathless finale to the epilogue da capo aria.
As the audience applauds, and the artist elegantly thanks his accomplice, the new Hamburg piano, with a wave of his hand. Finally, he addresses the audience, humbly acknowledging that an encore would not be an appropriate addition to this complete work par excellence.
This page is also available in / Cette page est également disponible en:
Francais (French)
