But this story is also about music. Gould -- who made his recording debut with his first "Goldberg" when he was just 23, and died when he was only 50, after the release of his second one -- was a unique pianist. To my ear, he touches the keys in a way nobody else does (except sometimes Andras Schiff), sometimes making me believe that the notes he plays are thinking out loud, all by themselves. But Gould 's appeal reaches far beyond the normal confines of classical music, so for a broader assessment -- and to understand why at least a few pop-music magazines are covering this release -- I thought I'd go to a veteran rock critic, J. D. Considine.
And Mr. Considine, who knows classical music as well as pop, was right on target. " Gould ," he said, "was soulful and eccentric. He seemed quirky and personal, almost angrily engaged with the world. He seemed more like a rock guy than a classical musician." (In evocative liner notes to this CD set, critic Tim Page similarly explains why hipsters were drawn to Gould in the 1950s.) Gould even was eccentric enough to give up playing live, and for most of his career created all his performances in recording studios, splicing multiple takes together, Mr. Considine points out, much as pop stars do.

Gould also, Mr. Considine suggested, was "elite, removed and intellectual to a fault." Those last words come to life (at least for me) on the bonus CD, when Gould, 26 years after recording his first "Goldberg," lays out reasons why he no longer likes it. I should say here that I love the first recording for two special reasons. The first is its apparent spontaneity. Gould joins his voice with Bach's, in a way that seems made up on the spot yet still inevitable.
And the second reason is something magical about the way Gould reinterprets both the piano and the music. Bach lived before the piano was invented; he wrote the "Goldberg Variations" for the harpsichord, an instrument whose sound is far less varied. Gould , hearing how the music suits that far less varied sound, all but moves the piano back in time, giving it the harpsichord's detachment. Yet he also moves the music toward our own day, finding colors in it that the harpsichord could never render. No wonder, then, that all by himself he turns the "Goldberg Variations" into something musicians often think of as a piano piece.
And then he kills this in his second version. He'd come to disapprove, he says, of playing Bach with strong emotion, using all the shadings of the piano. He'd also decided that the speeds of different sections ought to be related. He plays, it's true, with more profound attention than he had before, but he also plays more slowly, a consequence, I think, of giving more attention to smaller and more intricate details. Combine the slower speeds, carefully preplanned, with the narrowed tonal range, and now the piece sounds arid -- in spite of other, almost whimsical changes, like linking sections of the piece together, and repeating some of them (a really quirky choice, since Bach marks every part to be repeated; most performers, including Gould himself the first time out, respect Bach's consistency, if not his literal intentions, by repeating nothing.)

Sony's marketing succeeded. "For years after his death," says Peter Gelb, the president of Sony Classical, " Gould was the best-selling classical artist at this record company." And now he is again -- selling, in fact, far more than new classical releases normally would sell -- in part because, as Jeff Jones, the VP in charge of Legacy, says, Sony put its money where its mouth was. "We paid for positioning," Mr. Jones explains, meaning that, among other marketing moves, Sony paid to have the Gould release displayed in the front of record stores with new pop CDs, instead of in the back, where classical recordings often hide. (And yes, that's how it's done -- record companies pay to have their product featured in a store.)
One thing this means, I'm glad to say, is that these Gould CDs should be available just about everywhere. Above all, they're perfect for people who like smart music in other genres, and are curious to hear something classical. You can put your heart and mind to work, with no prior knowledge, just by comparing the performances. Maybe you'll decide you disagree with me -- and Glenn Gould 's stubborn ghost will thank you.

There's one more reason why this is an ideal first classical CD (or, OK, CD set). And that's the Goldberg Variations themselves. The piece is written in short sections, each based on the same musical design (Bach might almost have wanted to illustrate the notion of Platonic form). You can hear that, or at least sense it, so you can start to learn something about classical music’s structure. Comparing the two performances will also help answer one question that people new to classical music often ask, which is how performances of the same piece differ from each other. And since Gould tells you (on the bonus disc) which one he thinks is better -- and since I've given you my own view -- you can develop your independence as a classical music listener by deciding whether you agree with him, me, or neither of us.

Wall Street Journal, October 8, 2002