When Glenn Gould died in 1982 at the age of fifty, he left behind an astonishing legacy: in twenty-six years he had proved himself to be not only an extraordinary pianist but a gifted filmmaker and broadcaster and a brilliant (and mercurial) critic. His writing-which appeared primarily in music journals and on record album covers-was often as provocative as his performances: demanding, compelling, occasionally infuriating, but always stimulating, and always the product of a singular artistic vision. Now, for the first time, nearly everything that Gould wrote or spoke for publication-from the liner notes for his first "Goldberg" Variations recording in 1956 to a poignant and revealing interview with Tim Page shortly before his death-has been gathered together. And, perhaps for the first time as well, we can begin to comprehend fully the scope of the
intellect behind the musical artistry. Gould wrote about composers: from Byrd, Bach, and Mozart ("For me, the G-minor Symphony consists of eight remarkable measures surrounded by a half-hour of banality") to Schoenberg (he "does not write against the piano, but neither can he be accused of writing/or it"), Berg, and Terry Riley ("And you thought Carl Orff had found an easy way to make a living?"); from Beethoven (the "one composer whose reputation is based entirely on gossip") to Richard Strauss ("the greatest musical figure who has lived
in this century"). Gould wrote about music competitions ("the competition leaves its eager, ill-advised suppliants forever stunted, victims of a spiritual lobotomy"), about applause (he proposed the "Gould Plan for the Abolition of Applause and Demonstrations of All Kinds"), and about his own reasons for refusing to give concerts - reasons he discusses in a fascinating, delightful interview with Arthur Rubinstein. There are articles on recording ("If we were to take an inventory of those musical predilections most characteristic of our generation, we would discover that almost every item on such a list could be attributed directly to the influence of the recording"), on the purpose of art ("not the release of a momentary ejection of adrenaline but rather the gradual, life-long construction of a state of wonder and serenity"), and on technology and
art, which begins with a chronicle of his own "love affair with the microphone." We read him on Leopold Stokowski and on Barbra Streisand ("With the possible exception of Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, no vocalist has brought me greater pleasure or more insight into the interpreter's art"), on Petula Clark and Ernst Krenek, on radio as music and P.D.Q. Bach as both fact and fancy, on the state of music in Russia and in Canada, and
on an extraordinary range of matters dealing with the creation and appreciation of music. THE GLENN GouLD READER is that rare phenomenon, a book that gives us the critical vision of someone who was not only an observer but a practicing artist. It is crucial to our understanding of one of the most influential musicians of our day. Tim Page writes on music and cultural affairs for the New York Times, and his articles have also appeared in Vanity Fair, Horizon, Harper's Bazaar, the Wall Street journal, and other publications. In
1983 he was the recipient of the Deems Taylor Award for music criticism. He was born in San Diego and studied at the Mannes College of Music, the Berkshire Music Center at Tanglewood, and Columbia College, from which he received his B.A. He lives with his wife in New York City, where he is the host of a daily radio program on
WNYC-FM devoted to new and unusual music.