The Well-Tempered Clavier
is frequently referred to as the pianists’
‘Old Testament of Western music’, and
in Barenboim’s hands it certainly has
an ‘Old World’ quality to it. Viewed
in its entirety, the performance brings
to mind Edwin Fischer’s recording from
the 1930s – wonderful pianism, often
understated playing, marked by liberal
use of the pedals. This is, of course,
worlds apart from the incisive, sharp
clarity that Glenn Gould brought to
these works. Rather than concentrating
on bringing out the astonishing complexity
and polyphonic detail of these compositions,
Barenboim is happier producing a rich
harmonic texture to each piece, beautifully
realised on a modern Steinway.
After reading the above
paragraph, those who favour a historically
informed interpretation will probably
already have left the building. This
would be a pity, however, as Barenboim
offers real insights into many of these
pieces. Listen, for example to the serene
atmosphere he produces in the fugues
in C minor and E flat minor. Wonderful,
transparent playing, with subtle variations
in the length of notes within individual
lines, serving to clarify the texture
of this music. Occasionally he does
too much of the work for us, directing
us towards the foreground and background,
but this is a minor complaint. He also
sometimes over-romanticises in places,
particularly in the more contemplative
works, when a more measured pace would
be in keeping with the spirit of the
writing (for example, both prelude and
fugue in C sharp minor). However, it
must also be said that he is able to
reach further into some of the more
imposing, cerebral pieces than anyone
since Sviatoslav Richter’s offering
in the 1970s. Try the Fugues in F sharp
minor and B flat minor, and the preludes
in G minor and B minor. Unfortunately
the fugue in B minor, perhaps the greatest
of all these works, lacks the insight
of Tureck (in both her earlier and later
recordings) and Richter.
Perhaps more than any
other artist, Barenboim brings all the
works together in a way that is unmatched
in most other performances. Rather than
treating each prelude and fugue coupling
as independent works, there is a consistency
of tone across the entire performance
that leaves the impression of a single,
complex canvas. This makes for a satisfying
experience, although the incredible
variety of moods and colours that can
be found in these pieces, is somewhat
muted.
Overall, then, this
is a recording to savour and it rewards
repeated listening. For the uninitiated,
I cannot think of a better and more
accessible introduction to Book I. There
are few of the wilful eccentricities
frequently found in Glenn Gould’s recording
(and occasionally in Tureck’s recordings
too). Instead, the emphasis is on contemplation
and introspection. This highly pianistic
approach will, of course, never win
over period practice fanatics, but to
me it demonstrates rather beautifully
how Bach’s towering keyboard compositions
can be successfully realised on the
modern piano.
Peter Bright
Daniel Barenboim (piano) 
