There is, I feel, an intangible
mercuric quality about the Goldberg Variations: every
time you come back to it, you find that there is something
which has previously escaped your attention, and then you
experience it again and differently. It is immensely enjoyable
at its many levels, and given how listeners are spoilt for
choice from the number of recordings in the catalog, it's really
the quality of interpretation and performances that make their
own recommendation sometimes.
For many performers, a key decision
is whether to go with the harpichord for "authenticity", or with
the piano with its inifinte shades of colour and dynamism. In
favour of the latter, musicologist Eva Badura-Skoda has
controversially contended that instrument-maker Silbermann
provided fortepianos which Bach used extensively in his Leipzig
years - the very period from which the
Goldbergs
emerged. Nonetheless, Jacqueline Ogeil's tips her hat into the
former with his new release from ABC Classics, playing on a
fine, warm-toned William Bright copy of a Johann Dulcken
instrument in the acoustic of the St Ambrose Catholic Church in
Woodend, Victoria.
Ogeil's method with the
Goldberg Variations
is highly articulated and declamatory, even occasionally
offbeat: roiling arpeggios, robust chromaticisms and ebullient
rhythms.Unlike some pianists who will approach the
Goldbergs
as a narrative, architectural sequence of naturally evolving
pieces (of whom we might include Tureck on Philips/EMI, Perahia
on Sony and Gould's second coming of the
Goldbergs
on Sony), Ogeil tends to favour a more confrontational approach
that essays each variation on its own terms, not unsimilar to
the style adopted by Gavrilov on DG, Koriolov on Hänssler
and even Keith Jarrett's jaw-clenching agogisms on ECM. And
while we're making the inevitable comparisons, Ogeil plays with
all the repeats, like Hewitt and Koriolov, although she doesn't
quite approach the degree of spontaniety the other two achieve
in their reprises.
The benefit of approaching each
variation as its own touchpoint is that Ogeil manages to imbue
each with a distinctive character, yet without compromising the
polyphonic qualities in Bach's writing. Two aspects of her
playing immediately come to the fore: first, a forthright
approach in her interpretations with tons of technique to burn.
She imbues a polonaise quality, for example, into the first
variation by giving it a strong rhythmic bounce (we shouldn't
forget that Bach was, among other things, the Polish royal
composer), as with the fourth and fifth variations as well.
The other noteworthy aspect of her
musicianship is in her conception of Bach's left and right-hand
dialogues. Listen to the instrumental-like
trio
of the second variation or the virtuoso "finger exercises" of
Variation 20, and the level of thoughtful intercourse between
the parts. I found myself being drawn to one voice limning out
the filigree of discourse, while the other one or two voices
played off this musical argument above or under it. Some
listeners, though, may find her emphasis on one part at the
expense of the others somewhat uncomfortable, but others, I
daresay, would find this thought-provoking approach quite
refreshing for a change.
This quixotic sense of adventure
serves her well in other areas as well. In the all-important
25th Variation, there is a sepulchral sense of solemnity which
pays off wonderfully against the 29th and 30th Variations that
follow minutes later: the former in a manic barnstorming style
(as good a time as any for virtuosic show-offiness), and the
latter, the
Quodlibet,
with a lucid, mannered approach that sets you up to return full
circle to the
Aria
reprise. Her ardently simple
reiteration of this beautiful
Aria
goes straight to the heart. All said and done: she might not
displace the stiff competition in this field just yet, but watch
this name for greater things to come.
