Few musical pieces as beautiful as Glenn Gould’s interpretation
of Bach’s Golberg variations.
“Columbia Masterworks’ recording director and his
engineering colleagues are sympathetic veterans who accept as perfectly natural
all artists’ studio rituals, foibles, or fancies. But even these hardy souls
were surprised by the arrival of young Canadian pianist Glenn Gould and his
‘recording equipment’ for his first Columbia sessions. … It was a balmy June
day, but Gould arrived in a coat, beret, muffler and gloves.”
The rest of the bulletin detailed the other peculiarities
that Gould had brought along with him when recording J.S. Bach’s Goldberg
Variations for the label.
These were many. Instead of nobly holding his head high with
a proper recitalist’s posture, Gould’s modified piano bench allowed him to get
his face right near the keys, where he would proceed to hum audibly while
playing. He soaked his arms in hot water for up to 20 minutes before takes and
brought a wide variety of pills. He also brought his own bottles of water,
which, for 1955, was still something that seemed like only Howard Hughes would
do. It was these initial, broadly trumpeted peculiarities that helped shape the
Gould myth throughout his too-short life, the audacious genius who slightly
unsettled everyone around him.
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