NEW YORK — Pianist Christopher O’Riley, who was first known as a brash young talent, later the radio host for NPR’s From the Top, and then the author of Radiohead piano transcriptions, has reincarnated himself as a Bach guru. No twists, turns, or gimmicks. Just a seasoned pianist whose life has been enveloped by Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier, both in recordings and, most recently, in a recital of Book II.
The 48 preludes and fugues were spread over Oct. 11 and Oct. 12 recitals at Bargemusic in Brooklyn Bridge Park with playing that was unabashedly pianistic, deeply studied, and having a particular kind of boldness that comes with respecting but not hiding out in the urtext score. Heard in close proximity at the intimate Bargemusic space, this late-period Bach, with all of its rich, profound strangeness, was an unexpected adventure.
Congenial, off-the-grid venues such as this allow artists to be themselves — 100 percent. Though from Chicago, O’Riley is now an unadulterated Los Angelino, looking a bit messianic in flowing white attire designed for maximum comfort, pedaling with bare feet, though with anything but casual concentration. His clarity of expression revealed a highly personal approach to every phrase, as well as the occasional finger slip and rushed tempo. His 2024 Book I concert at Bargemusic landed in the middle of an Israel/Gaza protest march right outside the window; this visit had a nor’easter in the making, neither of which distracted from the endless webs of Bach counterpoint.
While Book I maintains more strict divisions between the preludes and fugues in each key, Book II finds different things for the preludes and fugues to do. Thematic development in the preludes is increasingly searching; fugue subjects are expansive and complicated in ways that may have puzzled Bach’s younger self. The Bach of Book II (1742) was clearly competing with the Bach of Book I (1722).
Another barometer for the composer’s ionospheric level of invention is the fugue-concluding harmonic resolutions, some so concise as to be over before you know it, others with a dizzying succession of quick key-changing mutation before reaching the tonic. Book II is less charismatic than Book I, possibly because Bach was less conscious of a listening audience and didn’t have as much time to tinker with it, which is why some scholars say Book II is unfinished. That theory is partly supported by the final Prelude and Fugue in B minor, which seems to show Bach either running out of gas or rushing to meet some sort of deadline. Certainly that portion would have been revised. Some respectful keyboardists just let it peter out. With O’Riley, tempo and overall temperature were stepped up, saving Bach from an esoteric embarrassment.
Elsewhere, O’Riley’s approach was a moving target. Tempo flexibility — similar to that heard from harpsichordist Celine Frisch, naturally contoured to momentary tension-and-release — could be heard in the same phrase with the digital clarity one associates with Glenn Gould.
O’Riley’s treatment of the preludes made no secret of having Chopin as a point of reference. The most original and memorable example of that — and this was for me the high point of the two concerts — was the F minor prelude, with phrases organized into small cells, yielding a great cumulative impact that made me hear this music as if for the first time.
O’Riley likes his bass notes, which gleamed while laying the foundation for Bach’s fantasy or adding extra emphasis to an interpretive point or creating duet-like counterpoint with the treble lines. All keyboardists must prioritize when facing the density of Book II. And O’Riley‘s layers of color avoided clutter and kept accompanying left-hand figures from lapsing into chatter.
Also, he was able to pivot between underscoring melody, countermelody, and decorative effects, giving almost a Cubist view of Bach. He employed ornamentation when playing repeats, though it was so well integrated into the musical whole that one felt them but would be hard-pressed to pick them out. In many ways, he embodied the strong-minded insights of Sviatoslav Richter, whose influence I detected in O’Riley’s playing some 40 years ago when I heard him play a transcription of Wagner’s Liebestod. Among current Bach pianists, O’Riley is easily in the company of Angela Hewitt, Simone Dinnerstein, Filippo Gorini, and Piotr Anderszewski.
But are these performances what Bach was after? Oh, don’t ask. The ‘Well-Tempered Clavier’ and Bach’s ‘Art of the Fugue’ are both strict in their parameters and open-ended in their intentions. Perhaps Bach was, in his own way, a conceptual precursor to John Cage? While Cage can be a Rorschach test for performers, Bach maintains both cultural adaptability and durability. Example: During China’s ruthless Cultural Revolution, the Western-trained pianist Zhu Xiao-Mei convinced provincial authorities that the ‘Well-Tempered Clavier’ was Communist Party-approved — and got away with it. This is music that never fails to speak, but whose meaning is never stationary.
