Bach Goldberg Variations: Hamada / Víkingur
Recently released in tandem are two new recordings of Bach’s fourth installment of the Clavier-Übung series, which we of course know as the Goldberg Variations, BWV 988. [Aya Hamada](Aya Hamada harpsichord | About) records the work on an historical instrument by Ruckers; Víkingur Ólafsson performs them on piano (the provenance of his piano is not listed, but I’m assuming it’s Steinway). I have reviewed albums by both musicians in the past, with favor for them both.
Hamada ⭐️⭐️⭐️½
The first thing that struck me with Hamada’s recording was the great sound from the historic instrument she used from Musée Unterlinden de Colmar (France). The recorded sound presents the instrument well, which is tuned at a=392 hz. The bass register of the instrument is especially impressive. Second, the notes provided in the booklet about the work and the instrument’s journey are excellent. These set a very high bar for booklet notes. The historical notes about the work are presented by non-other than Professor Christoph Wolff.
[Like the recording by Jean-Luc Ho](A Pair of Recordings - Bach's Goldberg Variations played by Ho and Schnyder), Hamada’s general approach with this work isn’t based upon a need to squeeze extreme virtuosity from the score with Gould-inspired speed. The workout Bach provides is virtuosic enough given a moderate approach, and that consistently comes across in Hamada’s performances. In the first variation she does provide additional ornaments in the repeats, but again, nothing taken to an extreme to disfigure Bach’s contribution.
Technically, Hamada’s articulation and consistency of touch is remarkable. It’s an unfair comparison to Gould’s articulated touch on piano, but it’s apt to point out how consistent her touch is. [Rondeau comes to mind](Two Goldbergs) as a foil, a player that purposely is not as consistent, which for those who appreciate it, provides a variation in sound, in that his instrument can sound less machine-like, more, perhaps at times, like a strummed guitar. I admire Hamada’s ability to be so consistent and call a draw to a philosophy about the approach. I know my own limitations as a keyboardist would prevent me from playing in her style.
There is the overture-based variation (no. 16) where maybe his articulated style of playing doesn’t serve the music as well; what’s also missing for me is a little more rubato in helping us feel what’s missing in volume and scale from the absence of an orchestra. The faster part of the overture, in turn, I think is ideally realized with a style I fully admire.
In variation 26, the one that would most certainly give me nightmares, the rising figures climb up with ease under her control. As any of the variations, this one further solidifies her technical abilities. Variation 29 sparkles under Hamada’s fingers, it’s one of the variations where she plays with the written timing just a bit, and I’d have welcomed more of this rubato approach across the board. The sound absolutely sparkles, too, in this variation. What a fantastic harpsichord.
What I missed from this album was a strong personality of the performer, beyond her technical gifts. With Andreas Staier’s album, beyond his facetious use of register changes, it was his strong variations in tempo. With one of my favorite harpsichord renditions by Blandine Rannou, it was her sense of rubato and more audacious improvisatory gestures that went beyond extra ornaments in the repeats. Some of these artist-imposed stamps on albums offend listeners as especially esoteric. In Hamada’s recording, using a rubato stretch to time might have helped her performance of the twenty-fifth variation; I almost hear this as a duet for flute and keyboard—or perhaps a singer? The melody carries with it rhetorical weight that simply isn’t explored. Lovers of this movement may be disappointed with this treatment, which is also not repeated.
Putting this album up against Víkingur’s album makes sense, as he’s very much imprinted his style on his recording.
Víkingur ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I am guessing with DG’s marketing we’re now just to call him “Víkingur,” although in the past he’s used his full name, Vikingur Ólafsson. I really admired Hamada’s control with articulation on the harpsichord; Víkingur likewise is well-known for his touch. The effect is different; he commands extreme control and subtlety with his fingers, but the effect is not only for consistency. We hear it straightaway in the opening Aria: how his left hand is smooth and even, connected, and the right hand commands more volume and more space between notes. I wonder if those who have never played the piano can appreciate this level of detail in playing. I can only imagine it takes supreme focus, not only to differentiate the parts, but also to do everything so consistently, alongside offering us gentle swells in dynamics that support the music.
It seems Víkingur wants to take-on Gould with the first variation. He plays it just as fast, I think, but with even tighter and restrained control. Unlike Gould, he takes more liberty with bringing out dynamic changes, in smooth, musical arcs.
As we move forward in the variations, when the voices move to three in the writing, Víkingur is able to give each “voice” its unique articulation. Done this way in MIDI we might admire the arranger; done before us with just two hands, it’s amazing.
Variation 6 is one of several where his detached notes in the left hand demonstrate Hamada-like control. The piano of course offers more variation in articulation, the way he combines detached notes with more connected ones in the other hand (or other voice) is consistently paraded as one of his most impressive technical gifts.
The one variation that left me in want was no. 16, which I commented on above in the harpsichord recording. Given the notes on the page, I think what he presents is passable, but the flavor of grand “french overture” that Bach stylistically applies in his four orchestral suites, not to mention in so many suites by his friend Telemann, and of course by his French contemporary Rameau, isn’t fully realized here. Like Hamada, the faster fugal section is more satisfying than the opening.
No. 18 is like a delicate dance between two people; they are dancing each in their own way, but from afar, they are perfectly in sync. I’d find it hard to resist not playing harder or louder, but his ability to maintain a delicate touch while still teasing with variation in dynamics is masterful.
No. 25, the minor-moded favorite of so many, is presented in over 9 minutes in Víkingur’s recording. This “black pearl” variation forces us to feel in a way that so many of the other variations don’t require us to so actively participate; it’s easy as a non-pianist, to sit and listen to many of the faster variations by happily tapping our feet. I know this is unfair, but I think this variation is more potential upon a piano. Again, Víkingur uses extreme restraint in his performance. He makes it easy for us to follow the melody on top with his articulation and variation in volume between the voices.
As Wolff’s background on the last variation, the so-called Quodlibet, attests, it’s a rather complex variation, given to how Bach weaves a number of melodies together. The joke is in knowing the pieces and how they indicate that the whole work is winding down. It’s jocular brilliance on Bach’s part. Despite this complexity, I enjoyed Víkingur’s tempo for this variation over Hamada’s; it’s one of the few variations he also pushes volume. The way the final note hangs on into the final Aria is a small but sublime touch to this album.
I should note, that like Hamada’s well-recorded and engineered album, the one by Víkingur is equally impressive, if not more black in absence of any playing. Extraordinary attention to detail was given to this project, not to mention DG’s marketing efforts. They set a high expectation and I doubt fans of Ólafsson will be disappointed.
In short, Víkingur’s album is a remarkable testament to the art of piano performance. While it’s likely impossible to name one best album of this encyclopedic work of keyboard music, his has to be one that will be named among a desert-island list; for me, it lacks the raw energy of Gould’s 1955 recording but musically, I think it’s superior to both of Gould’s recordings on piano. While his own mark is certainly made in the multiplicity of ways he articulates, uses dynamics, speed, and maintains tight control, it is most certainly not the same brand of expression used by [Ji in his recording](Bach Goldberg Variations - Ji), which remains one of my most favorite.
Final Thoughts
Both of these different recordings of Bach’s Goldberg Variations offer us snapshots of two vary accomplished musicians who possess extraordinary technical gifts. One is historical in its use of harpsichord and is rendered beautifully. The other is presented on a contemporary piano, using technique that would have been foreign to the composer.
Ultimately, I think the artistic and personal style of Víkingur is the more musically satisfying among these two recordings. While Bach may not have been able to imagine the capabilities of a modern piano, I think their application here are done in service to his music.
Of course, as I’ve written before, there are different performance philosophies about how much an artist is to contribute to the performance of a work; and how much personality should rub off onto recordings. Peter Kivy’s book Authenticities does well to advocate for authenticity in performance as an artist’s own contribution to the musical performance.
Hamada’s, I think, is akin to an Urtext score, she presents the music very cleanly. staying within the bounds of what clues were left in the music. Víkingur is more open to exploring what he feels in the music, which may be unfair, as he has an instrument which far more easily can convey variations in dynamics. But he’s also in competition with other versions on piano and I couldn’t help but feel the ghost of Glenn Gould here. Someone came knocking and while the musical results are different, the dare of matching Gould’s speed cannot be ignored.
Which still has me wondering what Bach would think of the supersonic speed at which some of his variations are played?
I enjoyed the opportunity to audition both of these recordings which I know I shall return. It was remarkable that both musicians possess similarities in strength of their technical touch with the instruments. Ultimately it was Víkingur that took more musical risks, for which some will more loudly applaud, and for others, it may well keep them away. So lucky we are to have this incredible work preserved for us and so many gifted musicians willing to perform it. Each recording, for different reasons, is a treasure.
