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Goldberg Variations BWV 988: Aria
Glenn Gould Lyrics

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Most interesting comment from YouTube:

Vivian Tristesse

So, I've been listening to this for hours on repeat. 

I feel that "I" am an unknowable entity spectating a bizarre space through an odd lens. What is this lens? I'm not sure. Through the most immediately salient component, I am told that I detect only the radiant energy that was not absorbed or perfectly transmitted on its path from its source. Instead of observing the photons to glean what they can tell me, I "see" 'stuff'. There appears to be a computer in front of me because the 'lens,' in this iteration, developed to only detect certain components of radiant energy and to use these to create a useful illusion that it fools me into believing. Useful. For what? To flex muscles in appropriate combinations to 'procure' that which the lens has defined as necessary with the carrot of pleasure and the whip of pain (enigmas in and of themselves). No. To generate a further set of hallucinations--- a few modulations of my pressure parameters and particle energies-- that leads me to believe that I have procured something of value.

"But surely you need the necessities, like food and water." The lens threatens with the whip of death. I don't know death, or that I indeed exist. Is death the one and only absolute-- the sole exception to the rule-- that can be perceived without contrast? If there is "no light without dark," what can cast a shadow on death? We know of it only indirectly, because sometimes there is 'not life.' I am taught to believe that I am an iteration of a several-billion-year-old pattern of energy movement, but I do not know what "energy" is. I know only what the lens tells me. The lens whispers to me that I will take for granted my physical faculties until I lose, say, pronation of my lateral left upper extremity. "Look at what torture simply not being able to do this brings." But what of those creatures that never had an extremity to pronate?

I don't want to be aware of all this. I just want to "live my life," whatever that means. The lens tells me that the phrase means "to exist for a time in a variety of tableaux created by me (the lens) but which you will attribute in part to external 'things', even though you know that the only 'things' you have access to are the illusions I create, until the illusions stop and 'you' are rearranged into some other lenses or not." Yes, the lens tells me that I am the lens. I'm "ideospectatory." How quaint.

It's awfully tiresome. I can't even write about or communicate it adequately because communication presumes that there is something to be said and something to say it with.

All comments from YouTube:

Roger Elliot

"Ready when you are, Sgt. Pembry"

Bernard Molan


Juan David Reina

Nunca me cansare de escuchar repetidamente esta melancólica melodía, llena de una hermosura única y que mueve lo mas profundo de mi ser!

H. K. Lee

I always will love Glenn’s remarkable performance with his singing along. It makes his work more excellent!!

AN 69

Get you someone who could treat yo D, the way my boi's fingers treat them keys. Such Angelic sounds and fingers!

Misogynist thinker

timeless and beautiful


His late cadences be playing with my emotions. Heard a section of this song from Gaspar Noe's Love off Netflix lol.


Gorgeous what a legacy - the tears fall

thomas brunner

Yes - we (music students) were listening to this record in the early eighties and were so stunned that we had to hear it again and again - the legacy has remained the most moving recording of this late work of the inconceivable Bach to this day...

David Rauh

Experimental, but great!

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