Right off the bat, when you start listening to this recording, 
                  you know that there’s something different; two things, in fact. 
                  No, three; three things that are different.
                  
                  First, and most apparent, is the length of the recording. At 
                  nearly 90 minutes, it spans two CDs. Among the nearly thirty 
                  recordings of the Goldbergs in my collection, only Richard Egarr’s 
                  recording on Harmonia Mundi is that long - it’s actually 45 
                  seconds longer. The vast majority of recordings fit between 
                  60 and 80 minutes, or sit comfortably on a single disc. At the 
                  other extreme are exceptions such as Glenn Gould’s 1955 recording 
                  - 38 minutes - or Gustav Leonhardt’s 1965 recording, at 47 minutes. 
                  It’s fair to say that the LP format limited what one could do 
                  with a work like this. The length of the recording here is more 
                  about playing all the repeats, rather than very slow tempi. 
                  While the opening aria is indeed played very slowly, most of 
                  the variations are played at tempi that are more or less standard, 
                  with some being more rapid than what one is used to. Rannou 
                  tends, however, to play the slower variations more slowly than 
                  most.
                   
                  Second, there is rubato. Lots of rubato. Rubato on top of rubato. 
                  This is no metronome-enslaved recording of Bach, no follow-the-beat-no-matter-what 
                  recording, but one where a performer improvises the tempo, plays 
                  with it, adapts it to her vision.
                   
                  The third difference here is that there is, indeed, improvisation. 
                  Rannou is not wedded to the notes. She takes liberties - and 
                  very extreme ones. This is not only in her ornamentations, but 
                  in certain melodic lines, where she allows a jazz-like variation 
                  to intrude into the music. This is notable in the opening aria 
                  which Rannou caresses lovingly for nearly 7 minutes, as an overture 
                  to the work, showing what is to come. You can also hear it in 
                  the flowing Variation 13, Variation 21, and others. Rannou tends 
                  to improvise more in the slower variations, where there is more 
                  flexibility, though the sprightly Variation 23 gets a work-over 
                  as well.
                   
                  No review of the Goldberg Variations would be complete without 
                  mentioning the 25th variation; the famous “black pearl”. Rannou 
                  uses what sounds like a lute stop on one keyboard, providing 
                  a nice contrast between the sounds of the two keyboards. She 
                  plays this slowly. At 9:38, it’s one of the longest in my collection; 
                  Barenboim plays it at 10:34, Dershavina 8:36, and Egarr only 
                  8:05. Yet in the variation that seems to allow the most flexibility, 
                  Rannou is surprisingly restrained. There is some rubato, as 
                  in all the slow variations, but only a handful of improvised 
                  notes or ornaments, until the fourth part of the variation (the 
                  second part of the repeat) comes around. Even then, compared 
                  to the rest of the work, Rannou is sedate, and, with a few exceptions, 
                  generally follows the score, and tradition. This said, her performance 
                  of Variation 25 is scintillating in its beauty, and the sound 
                  she gets out of the harpsichord is beautiful.
                   
                  And then we get to the Aria da Capo and which brings it full 
                  circle. Rannou plays this in a minimalist fashion. As she slows 
                  down at the end of the piece, a certain sadness overcame me, 
                  as if I wouldn’t be hearing this music the same way ever again.
                   
                  Score fundamentalists may be up in arms reading the above. A 
                  performer who doesn’t follow Bach’s tempi, and who even injects 
                  their own notes into the work … Horrendous. But this may be 
                  exactly the way music was played in Bach’s time. It is known 
                  that he improvised on the organ; is it so hard to believe that 
                  he would be so inflexible with a work like the Goldberg Variations? 
                  I find it regrettable that the liner notes contain nothing by 
                  the performer discussing these choices.
                   
                  In addition to the unique performance, the quality of the recording 
                  is exemplary. Rarely does one hear a harpsichord recorded this 
                  well. It is a beautiful copy of a Ruckers-Hemsch, by Anthony 
                  Sidey. The sound is neither too harsh nor too overwhelming, 
                  though at times, such as in Variations 6 and 14, it can be a 
                  bit heavy as so many notes and chords are played.
                   
                  You will love this recording, or you will hate it. I think this 
                  is the type of interpretation that allows no middle ground. 
                  Blandine Rannou’s approach is unique and personal, and if you 
                  don’t buy into it - assuming you are familiar enough with the 
                  Goldberg Variations to realize what is so different - then it 
                  won’t be for you. By all means, sample this recording online 
                  before buying it. As far as I’m concerned, this is the freshest 
                  approach that I have heard to this work since Glenn Gould.
                   
                  Kirk McElhearn