Interview with Víkingur Ólafsson

It’s hard to believe it, but Víkingur Ólafsson is now approaching 40. Yet the Reykjavík-born pianist with the trademark round glasses still looks a little like a mix between Harry Potter and a maths whizz kid. With this idiosyncratically casual hipster look, he’s made it all the way into the pop charts with his classical albums. He goes down well with everyone – including and especially with a young target group that isn’t necessarily interested in classical music.

After completing his studies in Iceland and New York, Víkingur Ólafsson set up his own record label, won a string of prizes, and was lauded by the press for his »soft staccato« and »nuanced technique«. Reviewing Ólafsson’s Bach interpretations, the »New York Times« called him »Iceland’s Glenn Gould« – not the worst comparison by any stretch of the imagination. While Ólafsson admits to having »a broad musical appetite«, Bach has played a particularly important role in the pianist’s dynamic career. Rameau, Mozart, Debussy and Chopin are also prominent in his repertoire, as are works by his friend Philip Glass. Ólafsson is a keen proponent of New Music, and has premiered several piano concertos by Icelandic composers.

But it was at a low-key performance of Bach’s »Goldberg Variations« in Berlin that scouts from the legendary label Deutsche Grammophon noticed Ólafsson and offered him an exclusive contract. Ironically, he then put the »Goldberg Variations« on ice for a few years in order to explore other works by Bach – only to return now to this important piano cycle with fresh ears.

A few days before this interview in spring 2023, he finished recording the work in the studio. And he has dedicated the whole of the upcoming season to the »Goldberg« theme. Ólafsson is taking the variation cycle – which Bach allegedly composed for the nocturnal edification of a nobleman who suffered from insomnia – on a global tour, with two stops in Hamburg.

Five variations of Bach’s Baroque variation masterpiece – on the harpsichord, on the modern grand piano and in two extraordinary trio formations.

You once said that you could play Bach for hours every day. Aren’t you afraid he could start to bore you at some point?

For me, Bach is the alpha and omega. In his works, he summarised everything that had gone before him in music history, and transformed it into his own unique art. But in a certain way, his music also contains almost everything that comes after him. With Bach, there is an amazing consensus that he is the greatest composer of all time. With all the others, opinions diverge, even on Mozart or Beethoven. Bach’s case is similar to Shakespeare’s among writers: he succeeded in creating something that is greater than himself. And he has also nourished so many aspects of my musical development.
 

What aspects are those?

He taught me to think about the structure of music, which in turn helps when I play Mozart or Chopin. Moreover, he was my teacher in technical matters: for me, he is the most demanding piano composer because you cannot hide behind the polyphony the way he writes it. With almost any other composer, it’s easier to worm your way out of it.

Take Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No. 3, for example, which is certainly difficult in its virtuosity. But you can also hide a little behind all that virtuosity. You can’t do that with Bach because he exposes the performer and mercilessly reveals any weakness in the interpretation, be that technical or intellectual. And lastly, Bach’s music connects the pianist with the composer in me. With Bach, you have to become a kind of co-creator. He may have left us the notes, but there are no other indications regarding the tempo, dynamics, phrasing or articulation. So it’s a matter of composing one’s own interpretation from this freedom.

Which Bach recordings do you listen to today?

I like listening to his orchestral works, cantatas and great choral works such as the passions. Before I went to the studio with the »Goldberg Variations«, I wanted to refresh my memory a little. So one day I listened to twelve different interpretations – not necessarily the entire cycle, but at least a few variations of each, just to get an idea of the various approaches. After listening to some of the most famous recordings, I came to the conclusion that the Glenn Gould recording from 1955 is, for me, still the best, better than his later version from 1981.

Many of your colleagues avoid listening to other recordings before they go to the studio themselves. Why don’t you do that?

Well, I got to hear some truly fascinating recordings. However, I found myself in the paradoxical situation where I – as exciting as I found the interpretations to be – did not agree with them and I was determined to do it differently. But I thought it was important to get a feeling for the recording history. Ultimately, this engagement with the interpretation history reinforced me in my interpretative decisions. It also helped me understand that not everyone is going to like my interpretation. Because the same was true for me regarding some of the recordings I listened to. That’s how it is with Bach: there is so much latitude and the difference between the various pianists is often enormous as a result. That’s what makes it so exciting to explore the various approaches.

Nikolaus Harnoncourt once said that Bach’s secret lay in the fact that there are no superfluous notes. Do you agree?

I don’t disagree with Harnoncourt, but I would qualify that a little. I agree with the statement when it comes to the passions and the great orchestral works, and also the most important works for keyboard instruments. But some of the less well-known piano works do feature almost excessive ornamentation in places. That’s obviously down in part to the other instrument for which Bach wrote: notes fade much faster on the harpsichord than on the piano. There are moments in the music that can’t be transferred directly to the piano, and in such cases, we as interpreters have two options. Either we choose not to play these works on the piano, or we look for ways to transfer the essence of the music to the piano, for example by playing fewer or other trills. The performance practice in Bach’s time allows us more freedom than we are used to today. My instrument is the piano. And I feel at home on it, not least because it allows me other dynamic nuances. When Bach’s harpsichord works don’t sound good on the piano, it’s not because of the instrument, but because of a lack of musical imagination.

Who are your personal favourites among Bach interpreters, apart from Edwin Fischer and Glenn Gould?

First and foremost, Murray Perahia – his Bach legacy is simply out of this world. His playing is so personal, sincere and full of light. You really hear the interpreter’s warm-heartedness in the music. And I’m also very grateful to him for bolstering the tradition of playing Bach’s piano concertos on the grand piano, and refusing to leave them to the harpsichordists.

The »New York Times« once called you »Iceland’s Glenn Gould« – was that a blessing or a curse?

It’s always a bit of a game with the media. This comparison came very early on in my career and helped raise my profile, so it was certainly a blessing. But, of course, I’m not like Glenn Gould, no one is. And such comparisons can therefore also be dangerous. Having said that, I’m happy it was Gould I was compared to, because he is one of the most fascinating figures. He played a particularly important role in the history of classical music recordings because he helped to establish studio recording as an independent art form, alongside concert performance. The 1955 »Goldberg« recording is a milestone and raised the production of classical music to a completely new level. I saw somewhere that he recorded the »Aria« more than twenty times because he wanted to exploit the possibilities of studio technology to penetrate as deeply as possible into the music, and thereby preserve something approaching the ultimate version of the work at that time.

What did you focus on in your own recording?

You essentially have two options with the »Goldberg Variations«. You either emphasise the unity of the cycle and subordinate the individual variations of this idea by connecting them together, for example in tempo relations. Or you do exactly the opposite and demonstrate Bach’s mastery in creating thirty very different mini worlds out of the same DNA. That’s what constitutes the beauty of the work – how you can create this incredible richness, this wealth of different universes, out of such a simple »Aria«. I deliberated endlessly about the structure of the cycle for the studio production. I also recorded some variations at different tempos. That gave us the possibility in post-production of experimenting to see which versions fit in best with the overall concept. As we did so, I was obviously always thinking about how I can combine the thirty variations to create one overall work, without them all sounding the same in the end.
 

You’ve dedicated the coming season to the »Goldberg Variations«: for one whole year, you’ll be playing the cycle in numerous concerts around the world…

…and Hamburg is the only city where I’ll be playing twice! At the start of the season, I’ll be performing the work in the Laeiszhalle, and at the end I’ll be returning to Hamburg to perform in the Elbphilharmonie. That actually reflects the structure of the »Goldberg Variations«, which starts with the »Aria«, followed by the variations, and with the »Aria« returning at the end. And that’s also how the concerts will be – but each concert will be different because my perspective of the piece, and my way of playing it, will inevitably evolve over the course of the year. That was also one reason for this decision – I wanted to know how deeply I can dive into a composition and how many different facets I can discover in it.

When it comes to the »Goldberg Variations«, where do the biggest interpretative and technical challenges lie for you as an artist?

Technically, it’s one of the most demanding works ever composed for the piano. In each variation, Bach experiments with what is possible on the instrument of his time. The cycle is therefore varied and packed with extremes. For example, you often have to cross your hands and you end up playing in the craziest positions. However, I don’t see the »Goldberg Variations« as a technical piece – for me, the biggest challenge is to do justice to the cycle through my own personal musical reflections, to engage with Bach’s compositional process, and to allow that to flow into my own playing. It’s not a matter of overcoming technical hurdles, but of expressing an idea.

Do you still have the Bach bust at home? What does it say to you when you play Bach’s music?

Yes, I have more than one! Above all, they always remind me that Bach is no statue. He is not made of marble – and the same applies to his music. Insofar, the bust is almost a warning because we in the classical music world have a tendency to place composers and their works on a pedestal and make them sacrosanct. But we should be doing exactly the opposite: bringing composers and their music to life today.
 

Interview: Bjørn Woll, Date: August 2023
English Translation: Seiriol Dafydd

This interview was published in Elbphilharmonie Magazine (3/23).