With a live recording, there is always the chance that something
magical will happen, a unique event which one senses could never
be reproduced in the dry atmosphere of a studio. Beth Levin isn’t
the only pianist to have gone live in a traversal of Bach’s keyboard
masterpiece the Goldberg Variations, and I pick the exceptional
Andrea
Bacchetti as an example, and one of any number of strong contenders
in a crowded market. Listening again to Bacchetti, and I am struck
by his lithe and expressively athletic playing. He throws most
of the ornaments in as improvisatory gestures and with a sense
of joyous spontaneity, and his limpid touch creates gorgeous legato
in the instrument. Swiftly paced, and with each variation coming
hot on the heels of the last, you are gripped and held in a sense
of organic flow which is irrepressible.
I’m not usually
given to starting a review by pointing out the wonders of a
competitor, but it’s easy to become carried away with Bacchetti.
Returning to Beth Levin, and we find her immediately at something
of a disadvantage with the piano sound. The mid-range notes
in the right hand have a rather clangy, metallic quality: what
my colleague Johan the piano rather unkindly calls the ‘Kawai
sound’. A live recording, assuming it hasn’t been doctored
in the editing studio, is always a snapshot: there’s no going
back, and I am sure Beth Levin would be the first to rue the
technical fluffs which crop up here and there from quite early
on in this performance. We’ve all become spoilt by the perfection
offered by squeaky-clean studio recordings, and I personally
don’t mind the occasional muffed note. Levin only just survives
some variations however. Take Variation 5 as an example,
and you will hear what I mean. By way of revenge she seems to
attack the next variation, the Canon on the second with
a rather thumpy and over hasty touch. I don’t want to be picky
through the whole recording, but there are some moments which
gave me a little pain in the chest. Around 0:34 into variation
14 for instance, Levin seems to have forgotten where she was,
and the tempo dips distressingly. This is however a feature
of some of her openings as well as repeats and transitions:
the otherwise mostly delightful Variation 23 also does
this in the first section, becoming a little less delightful
as the second half progresses. Levin tries to make the opening
of Variation 29 sound like the “staggered chords that
remind one of a pipe organ”. I’m afraid to me it sounded more
like the pipes falling out of the organ loft and coming a cropper
on a rather hard floor.
Beth Levin’s concert
would no doubt have been an enjoyable one, and the audience
listens in almost entirely rapt silence. The microphone is however
unforgiving, and in a recording which you would like to think
can be played with pleasure time and time again many of these
negative aspects become all too intrusive. I enjoy her honest
music making and sensitivity in the gentler variations, such
as the Canon on the third, the poetic Variation 13
and more – Levin’s Variation 25 is wonderfully timeless
and enigmatic. Her personal comments in the booklet are great
fun, and somewhat revealing. Some of the comments remind me
a little of the imperious piano lessons I had when young: “...dare
to be bold.” There are however numerous insightful observations
and little throwaway references which make for fascinating reading.
Releasing this live
‘warts and all’ performance of the Goldberg Variations has
to be seen as brave, considering the names it will have to sit
next to on the record shop shelves. Without dismissing it outright,
I can only offer a small recommendation for this recording as
an alternative view to some of the more mainstream choices.
One of Beth Levin’s teachers, Rudolf Serkin, apparently recorded
his Goldberg Variations onto piano rolls, and I for one
would be intrigued to compare these with Levin’s interpretation.
Dominy Clements
Beth Levin
(piano) 
