Bach's Allemande, Gould & Turek
Both Glen Gould and Turek employ bold strategies in their respective performances of Bach’s Allemande, Partita No. 4 in D. However, while Gould opts for a stricter rendition of the Allemande with a precise and clear touch, Turek seems to enjoy exploring the romance in Bach’s complex harmonies.
In Turek’s interpretation, hints of rubato are used generously, as one might add for flavour. What results is an implied romanticism of the work without blurring too much of Bach’s rhythmic and harmonic structure. Through this, Turek achieves refreshing melodic clarity in the right hand textures, which tends to dwarf the left-handed motions until he encounters denser harmonic shifts. Turek’s interpretation reads like a delicate conversation between its composite parts, each edging each other on toward new harmonic material which is then further explored between them. Although melodic clarity may come as a welcome renewal from austere Baroque purists, Turek’s rendition of Bach as melodic interlocution seems to usurp Bach’s harmonic material in favour of the textural elements rather than its harmonic complexities. Bach’s harmonies tend to follow Turek’s lyrical tendencies like a shadow, stealing behind. Bach’s harmonies require no further cluttering, rather, when approached plainly without excessive emotional gesture, tends to ‘speak’ for itself. Turek’s individual indulgence in musical excesses could have been superfluous in place of Bach’s harmonies. However, in this recording, Turek chooses to repeat the first section of the Allemande, thereby offering a second chance for the listener to sift through the work. Though amiable, Turek’s chosen repeats do little to salvage remaining harmonic interest. Rather, the repeat tends to reiterate the exhaustion of harmony over favour of melodic intention, and it feels more like a tiresome formal repetition rather than the visitation of an old friend. Also, the piece tends to feel slightly sloppy when tinkered out on a distinctly warm piano tone, as if the flow of the piece were less exact, but rough geometries seen through frosted glass.
Gould, on the other hand, opts for the bright, less mellow timbre, a pianoforte tone less removed from that of the harpsichord. Unlike Turek, Gould opts for a rhythmically solid hankering-out of the piece, each line approached with definition and distinction. Gould’s interpretation of the first section sounds slightly declarative, but it lays the necessary groundwork for harmonies that inextricably ‘announce themselves’ rather than creep into existence. For Gould, Bach’s harmonies are swept to the fore (at least for the first section), and what results sounds like block chords stretched over multiple measures. Melodic interplay that accounts for Turek’s interpretive ambiguity plays no part in Gould’s strict performance, the work stands out boldly as a single unit that shifts and morphs, edged on by Bach’s tonal ripples. There is a regal sense of importance that Gould manages to impart to each phrase that counters Turek’s somewhat aloof approach, and it pays off handsomely: rhythmic nuances present in Bach’s subtle sixteenth-note triplets and mordents sparkle amidst a rich tonal exodus. Bach’s implied harmonies that teeter on two notes appear stark in space rather than bare, and are given room to breathe while retaining the stain of their former tonal origins. Gould’s second section, however, liberally uses staccato in order to highlight textural differences between sections, as well as to mark the rise in tension. Rather than smudging pre-existent harmonic intentions, the staccato tends to augment areas of heightened harmonic frivolity, although some may find it draws too much attention to what should be already apparent. Nonetheless, Gould’s balanced approach would find itself in the good books of most listeners who prefer music-on-a-diet, whilst even dessert-seekers might find Turek’s delivery slightly overdone for their liking.
In Turek’s interpretation, hints of rubato are used generously, as one might add for flavour. What results is an implied romanticism of the work without blurring too much of Bach’s rhythmic and harmonic structure. Through this, Turek achieves refreshing melodic clarity in the right hand textures, which tends to dwarf the left-handed motions until he encounters denser harmonic shifts. Turek’s interpretation reads like a delicate conversation between its composite parts, each edging each other on toward new harmonic material which is then further explored between them. Although melodic clarity may come as a welcome renewal from austere Baroque purists, Turek’s rendition of Bach as melodic interlocution seems to usurp Bach’s harmonic material in favour of the textural elements rather than its harmonic complexities. Bach’s harmonies tend to follow Turek’s lyrical tendencies like a shadow, stealing behind. Bach’s harmonies require no further cluttering, rather, when approached plainly without excessive emotional gesture, tends to ‘speak’ for itself. Turek’s individual indulgence in musical excesses could have been superfluous in place of Bach’s harmonies. However, in this recording, Turek chooses to repeat the first section of the Allemande, thereby offering a second chance for the listener to sift through the work. Though amiable, Turek’s chosen repeats do little to salvage remaining harmonic interest. Rather, the repeat tends to reiterate the exhaustion of harmony over favour of melodic intention, and it feels more like a tiresome formal repetition rather than the visitation of an old friend. Also, the piece tends to feel slightly sloppy when tinkered out on a distinctly warm piano tone, as if the flow of the piece were less exact, but rough geometries seen through frosted glass.
Gould, on the other hand, opts for the bright, less mellow timbre, a pianoforte tone less removed from that of the harpsichord. Unlike Turek, Gould opts for a rhythmically solid hankering-out of the piece, each line approached with definition and distinction. Gould’s interpretation of the first section sounds slightly declarative, but it lays the necessary groundwork for harmonies that inextricably ‘announce themselves’ rather than creep into existence. For Gould, Bach’s harmonies are swept to the fore (at least for the first section), and what results sounds like block chords stretched over multiple measures. Melodic interplay that accounts for Turek’s interpretive ambiguity plays no part in Gould’s strict performance, the work stands out boldly as a single unit that shifts and morphs, edged on by Bach’s tonal ripples. There is a regal sense of importance that Gould manages to impart to each phrase that counters Turek’s somewhat aloof approach, and it pays off handsomely: rhythmic nuances present in Bach’s subtle sixteenth-note triplets and mordents sparkle amidst a rich tonal exodus. Bach’s implied harmonies that teeter on two notes appear stark in space rather than bare, and are given room to breathe while retaining the stain of their former tonal origins. Gould’s second section, however, liberally uses staccato in order to highlight textural differences between sections, as well as to mark the rise in tension. Rather than smudging pre-existent harmonic intentions, the staccato tends to augment areas of heightened harmonic frivolity, although some may find it draws too much attention to what should be already apparent. Nonetheless, Gould’s balanced approach would find itself in the good books of most listeners who prefer music-on-a-diet, whilst even dessert-seekers might find Turek’s delivery slightly overdone for their liking.
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