Bach Master

This morning I came across a recording that I haven't listened to in a very long time. It is of the famous Canadian pianist, Glenn Gould, playing Bach's Italian Concerto. It was absolutely amazing in perfection. Every note was crafted perfectly, and the phrasing of each voice was flawless. Listening to it while I was stuck in four lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic, everything seemed peaceful and orderly in the world.

There was something soothing and predictable about the perfect meter and evenhandedness of Gould. I crept along the freeway listening to him.

I remember that when I was very small, my father told me about Glenn Gould. He said that this fine pianist is the standard for Bach. And yet he was eccentric. He sat on a low chair when he played the piano and almost had to reach up to the keyboard to play. Then he would hum along, emphasizing various syncopated elements with clucks and moans. It apparently was impossible to record him in his later years (so my father told me--which I can't verify or dispute) because of his singing. The recording studio created a plastic bubble type affair placed over him while he performed. That way, they could cut his voice out of the sound track. Interesting.

So I drove all the way out into the Southwest sands yesterday, listening to Gould cluck, whine and croon.

There is something enviable about a person who can so lose themselves in what they are doing. Particularly when that something is creative. Seeing or in this case, hearing, someone else become one with their craft restores peace to me. If you have a few moments, you may want to watch him perform.