Bach: Goldberg Variations (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Yunchan Lim, pianist. Decca 487 1517

Yunchan Lim earns his adulation. He’s one of the best things to happen to classical music recently. What a gift to have someone who’s at once so serious about his art, so flawless in his technique, and so imaginative in his interpretations without compromising musical integrity. His previous release of the Chopin Études (Decca 487 0122) was a revelation – a disc I now delightedly place with the best performances. And while I do not agree with certain rubato decisions in his 2025 Tchaikovsky Seasons release (Decca 487 1022), I’ll pay that price for the most heart-rending realizations of some of them I’ve ever heard. These live Goldberg Variations are a worthy follow-up, an encouraging indication that Mr. Lim is a performer of enduring sensitivity rather than any flash in the pan. And speaking of flash, it’s nice not to be gimmicked by hamster-wheel virtuosity, performance-practice stuntsmanship, or skimpy concert attire that *covers* only a lack of substance

But Lim certainly has his detractors, and it is against their more unfair criticisms that I find it advantageous to begin evaluating this Bach. The first thing we need to get straight is that the “historically informed performance” people, contrary to their posturing, wouldn’t know how Bach actually played his variations from a hole in the wall. Joseph Kerman (Contemplating Music, HUP, 1985) and Richard Taruskin (Text and Act, OUP, 1995) have already exposed the stubborn HIP movement’s fallacies, and I won’t fully replicate their arguments here. I’ll just first point out that the manuscript score to the Goldbergs is sparse indeed. Mostly missing are dynamics (understandably), articulation marks, and tempo indications. If anything, Bach seems to be saying, “here are the notes: decide how to play them.” Second, even if we did have more evidence of Bach's personal preferences, he’s long dead and we have instruments he never imagined. I think we can let go of the gatekeeping. Wanda Landowska reportedly said, “you play Bach your way, and I’ll play him his way.” Talented musician, terrible music scholar. Let’s not pretend to be in the know when all we’re doing is being pompous. (This seems a good place to remind certain performers that sneering at musicology as a discipline may scratch an itch, but in the end the joke’s on them.)

Critics of Lim’s Goldbergs say he plays some ornaments a little funny, or that he disrupts certain polyphonic lines while unusually bringing out some inner voices. Maybe he does. I also don’t negatively care. These detractors seem to think that the highest aim of all new Goldberg Variation recordings is to recreate the sound of the harpsichord on the piano, or to satisfy some stale formalist paradigm. I for one believe we have enough recordings of this work on the harpsichord. If that’s what you want, you’ll always have these performers to satisfy you. But do we otherwise need to be so pedantic? An unorthodox elongation of a trill’s upper auxiliary note (or some comparably innocuous thing) is still miles away from Glenn Gould’s humming and howling. There’s contrapuntal style, and then there’s artificially adding lines of counterpoint that Bach never wrote, even in a manuscript mostly restricted to notes!

But the complaint that Lim achieves a Romantic sound is for me one of this recording’s selling points. When I listen to some of these variations, I hear colors and atmospheres that the heretofore best performances on piano (Perahia, Hewitt, etc.) only began to explore. This is easily experienced in the slower, dreamier numbers (particularly 15, 21, and 25). But somehow even more impressive is the “velvety virtuosity” that Lim achieves in many of the quick pieces, fully exploiting the timbral possibilities of the modern instrument. Variations 9, 22, and 24 are emblematic of the entire performance in this respect, and bespeak extraordinary pianistic command.

If this weren’t enough, Lim also brings refreshing spontaneity with varied repeats. Sometimes his daring is breathtaking, as when he plays the right hand part an octave higher on repeat in Variation 7, or alters rhythms in a quasi-improvisatory manner the second time through No. 20. I can imagine some purists raging at these liberties, but just as easily can I imagine Bach grinning appreciatively if he could somehow listen from beyond the grave. My favorite of all is Variation 17, which in Lim’s hands is a virtuosic tour de force of piano dynamics and technical control.

The truth is that I listen to too many new recordings of familiar repertoire that are no better than highly competent (and sometimes considerably worse). “Why did we need yet another of these?” I often wearily ask myself. But then someone like Lim comes along, threads the needle of personal vs. tasteful, and revives my flagging faith in the whole industry. There really are new things that can be said with this old music. Lim certainly says some; his Goldbergs burst with flavor and are all the more astounding for having been performed live. I understand that he’s tackling the Mozart sonatas next: more well-trodden ground that risks exposing him ruthlessly. Like others, I’d love for him to champion some newer works in need of high-profile advocacy. But until then I’m more than happy to see if he can maintain his stellar showing within the canon.