The long gallery of commemorations
leads us to Glen Gould, a memorable name in the concert world.
2002 marks 20 years since his death - it is both a duty and an obligation
to remember this great personage.
He combined an excellent piano technique and interest in the world of research;
the latter often caused him serious problems with the most rigorous critics.
Our homage to Gould can begin with this concise remark made by George Szell
(important music critic and director), away back in 1947, when he attended
the fifteen year-old pianist’s concert in Cleveland: “That madman is a genius”.
On that occasion Gould performed Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto, amazing
the audience by his personal approach to this immortal score, courageously
changing its rhythmic content. Such statements reveal the greatness of the
performer, as those who go beyond preconceived patterns and “clichès” are
generally defined “mad”. But Szell, by using the word “genius”, highlighted
the artist’s uniqueness and interpretational courage.
Gould succeeded in astonishing the academic world with extremely personal
performances. He tried to free the minds of listeners and experts of those
interpretative parametres which, to him, were only limits to music, with the
new sounds he spasmodically sought. Evidence of his precocious genius and
his tenacious study of the piano is that at the age of ten he was well versed
in J.S. Bach’s Well-Tempered Harpsichord, which proves that he already possessed
a clear idea of how to build a solid musical structure.
Despite this serious, professional atmosphere, experts started “picking on
him”; negative criticism was of the most disparate nature and some were aimed
at his interpretative style. To quote a sentence by Jonathan Cott from his
book Conversations with Glen Gould, to the effect that discontent in the world
of music was evident, though it did not seem to bother Gould too much: “He
was also criticized for his mannerisms and his unconventional style of performance
– he moved about the stage like a frightened antelope, in his roughly ironed
tails, and at times wearing gloves. He played almost at ground level, seated
on a folding stool which was so low because its legs had been sawed; he directed,
hummed and made love with his piano, which at times he attacked and at times
soothed….” (1) Glenn, besides deeply altering the physiognomy of the traditional
interpreter, the heritage of an 18th century culture, left an indelible mark
with his choice of repertoire too.
He modernized dusty concert programmes by choosing alternative pages such
as pieces from the English School and compositions by P. Hjindemith, or by
extolling the figure of J.S. Bach, when on the spur of the moment he performed
these masterpieces in music halls throughout the world.
This awkward and extremely personal role created embarrassing situations,
which at least outwardly did not seem to ruffle Glenn, who went on undaunted
with his piano career. In this regard there exists an anecdote which shows
the extent to which this “young musician” amazed not only experts still bound
to the past, but also musicians of Leonard Bernstein’s calibre.
In short Bernstein did not obstinately hold on to traditions. Before the New
York performance of Brahms’ Piano Concerto No.1 with the New York Philharmonic
directed by Bernstein, the director, having previously spoken to the pianist,
addressed the audience to state that he did not agree with the soloist’s interpretation,
conceived at a very slow pace and a far cry from traditional performances.
But Gould was not always surrounded by detractors. As a matter of fact, after
the performance of Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto, which saw him with Herbert
von Karajan, he was acclaimed by German critics as: “ An absolute genius and
the greatest pianist since Busoni”.
This circumstance rewarded him for his courage in not bending to the pressure
of a market void of all imagination. Besides an undeniable desire to go against
the tide, his veiled sarcasm completes the complex sketch of his artistic
personality. When compared to many great international pianists, Gould gave
the least number of concerts, leaving the listener with a great desire to
hear him whenever he put in an appearance in any part of the world. Gradually
his fame was established in important circles where open-minded critics understood
his genius - he did not wish to attack or undermine tradition in any way,
rather he wanted to widen the perspective, to include other visions of music
too. Gould took no interest in fame and glory.
He lived for music; he lived to discover unknown worlds, the fruit of his
innermost suffering, overlooking the ephemeral world of enthusiastic ovations
and concert halls.
This helps us understand Gould’s interests, which went beyond public performance.
He meant to intimately experience music, shaking off conformism and the frustrations
of an ephemeral and superficial world. From the ’60s he will withdraw to complete
solitude, preparing records, broadcasts, musicological studies and, most important
of all, precious directions addressed to musicologists and critics to help
them understand his interpretational decisions.
To Jonathan Cott’s question on his idea of solitude, he replied: “One wish,
which I will probably never succeed in realizing, is to spend at least one
winter to the north of the Arctic Circle. Anyone can go there in summer when
the sun is above the horizon, but I want to be there when the sun goes down,
and, if God wills, sooner or later I will go there. I’ve been saying this
for the past five or six years but my programmes do not permit it”.
Everything was alternative with Gould, straining to go beyond conventions,
hence the choice of a repertoire that would widen the interpretative outlook
was part of his philosophy. He thus succeeded in anticipating new market trends
and fashions, studying composers of the English School or digging up piano
compositions of musicians who were wrongly considered to be basically only
masters of the fundamentals, such as Czerny and Kramer.
As further proof of his impatience towards patterns and tiresome conformism,
we can quote a passage from the previously mentioned book by Cott, which describes
two essential moments which will enable us to better understand Gould’s mind:
“…I recollect, for example, a journey to Westchester to hear him play Beethoven’s
Emperor Concerto, with a scratched provincial orchestra and such a third-rate
director that, at one stage, Gould, score in hand and seated all hunched up,
decided to both play and direct those musicians, orchestra professionals,
who, to get out of that scrape, willingly followed the leading chords played
by the piano, while their orchestra “chef”, as if nothing were the matter,
went on waving his arms from the podium for another orchestra (or for another
pianist)”.
Another hilarious moment, which is at the same time proof of the little importance
Gould gave to etiquette and the image of a classical musician, concerns a
very important concert for his career: “…I also recall I was among the three
or four privileged admitted to Carnegie Hall to the test with Schonberg’s
Piano Concerto (with Dimitri Mitropoulos on the podium of the New York Philharmonic),
when Gould emerged from backstage without shoes and crossed the stage sliding
on his socks, carrying a comforter and a bottle of Poland Water. He then warmed
his hands in a bowl of hot water and started the most technically perfect
and musically vital performance I have ever heard of that concert”.
Two enlightening examples of an alternative greatness which, in the course
of time, was to become trendy, leaving its mark in history. He decided to
withdraw from concert life at the age of thirty-two, expressly concentrating
on the world of recordings which offered him the chance to meditate, without
being a victim of the sole interpretative moment, the unique, magical moment
of spontaneous performance.
The analytical dissection produced by the microphone enabled him to listen
to music and form a “conceptual perspective” (these are two words) hence his
entire world of sound was scientifically dissectioned, barely making room
for free interpretation. Two relevant aspects in the pianist’s complex personality
are based on the world of transcription and composition.
These two realities completed his exhausting quest for a new, alternative
world which, in short, would go against the worn out image of academicism.
Along with his masterly, unforgettable interpretations of Bach he placed his
first recordings of his Transcriptions of Richard Strauss’ Enoch Arden, with
which he accompanied the actor Richard Rains, and Liszt’s Transcriptions of
Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, without neglecting Bizet’s Variantos Chromatiques,
and adding to the list pieces from Music for the Virginal by Byrd and Gibbons
and his magnificent Transcriptions for piano of Wagner’s Seigfried Idyll.
Gould approached the world of transcriptions when the academic sector was
scandalized by these sacrileges towards famous masterpieces.
For the umpteenth time he had the courage to go against the tide, not moved
by a rebellious spirit but because he realized the beauty of pieces revisited
in new sound dimensions. Besides his transcriptions he also composed music,
composing a String Quartet Op. 1, between 1953 and 1955.
This work is influenced by his great admiration for Bruckner and R. Strass
- he surrenders completely to the spell of an intrusive romanticism sustained
by a strong sense of irony. We can recall the two cadences written for Beethoven’s
Piano Concerto in C Major which, while paying homage to the German composer,
also enhance Gould’s full and mature taste for the sound of the piano, yet
never loosing sight of the granite like sequence of chords.
In this case too he did not scorn to move away from the “purism” of academicism,
working on arrangements for one-reelers and films, giving evidence once again
of his versatile nature, constantly on the look out for new experiences and
sensations. Gould is undoubtedly a musician in every sense of the word and
a child of his time.
To complete the picture, let us also mention Gould the essayist, brilliant
and ever scathing in his style of writing and provocations, doing even a self
interview in order to create a controversial atmosphere about him.
And who does not recall his cover notes? Once again his scathing spirit and
tendency to open debate gave him the opportunity to write comments to his
own records, with the purpose of “helping” critics understand his interpretations.
In his notes he advices the record company critics and writes: “to those among
you who will enthusiastically welcome this record, I would like to suggest
an expression such as the following: ...with the vigorous liveliness typical
of a first reading, the performance proves to be fresh, spontaneous and indipendent
from that tradition which, as the late Artur Schnabel perceptively observed,
is nothing but a series of bad habits. To those who are doubtful concerning
the real worth of these interpretations I will take the liberty of suggesting
a phrase to the following effect: …It is unfortunately a yet immature interpretation,
which still lacks structural clear-headedness”.
A blow to the credibility of critics! But this attack against the world of
music journalism was part of his character, therefore many understood the
irony and provocation of this genius of music without sparking off a fierce
debate. His comprehensive musical feeling was based on a long range perspective,
because he had understood the future of the message music carries. With no
fastidiousness whatsoever he discoursed about the Beatles, Barbra Streisand
and other leading names in easy listening music, analysing them with the same
respect shown to classical music artists.
We can close this homage with one of Gould’s typically concise sentences which
reflects his thought and the fine irony which always characterized his short
life as an artist “...I think that Streisand has a very intense and human
personality and I think that Schoenberg was an extremely intense artist and
person. However there is a difference: in Schoenberg entertaining moments
have a typically German clumsiness about them (…), while Streisand is obviously
an extremely pleasing and entertaining woman”.
A lovely lesson on intelligence and open mindedness! It has helped us increase
our knowledge, going beyond an academicism which can at times be quite limited.
Gould died on October 4 1982, taking with him a wave of novelty which, for
a few years, helped us understand that music has no frontiers, only a constant
flow of emotional messages.
After his decease things have gone back to static classicism. We can only
hope that his “return” on this anniversary will encourage the many little
Goulds we hope to discover in the international scene. traslations by Interpres
sas
1)
J.Cott: Conversazioni con Glen Gould, Ed. Ubulibri
(La collanina 8) - 1989
