Bach effects

Last night we turned to a classic: Bach's Goldberg Variations, played by Murray Perahia. Written as thirty variants on a common theme for a talented student, Bach's compositions were intended for the harpsichord, but are often now played on the piano. Collectively, they're also apparently known as one of the more demanding works for solo piano - and are often associated with Glenn Gould, who released his interpretation in 1955. I don't have the Gould version but the Perahia recording is beautiful, and we wandered through two full listens, sandwiched around the Penguins' satisfying victory.

Brian referred, in a comment following my last post, to the so-called Mozart effect. That's the theory, of course, that exposure to the music of Mozart (or, in some versions of the theory, to a range of classical compositions) can increase the perceptive skills or even the intelligence of young minds - including, possibly, infants in the womb. It's been big business for more than a decade now, but as far as I can tell there's little conclusive research (in one study, listening to Stephen King read a story led to comparable gains). But I can, at least, report on an apparent Bach effect: listening to the Goldberg variations certainly increased my impression of Bach's intelligence. The music has an algebraic clarity to it, and words like crystalline came to mind as we listened.

And did the still-shy baby enjoy it? Well, she was certainly active; hand on L's belly, I could feel all sorts of swells and rolls. The sensation is remarkable: tectonic, aqueous, it's like reaching into an aquarium pool to touch an starfish, or some other resident of that other, watery world below the surface. But I'd hesitate to interpret kicks and turns as solid signs of satisfaction; they can just as often, I suppose, indicate the opposite. So let's just stay on firmer ground, and note that Bach makes this listener happy - if still not quite intelligent enough to figure out most of the available tools on this blog.