Sunday afternoon deep in the the Yorkshire winter, I was listening to Johann Sebastian Bach’s Goldberg Variations (played by Beatrice Rana) and I drifted into imagining dear old JSB writing at his piano as the candles were lit and the sun set. 

I thought of him finishing up and then trudging through the snow in Leipzig, off to have dinner with his friends the Bose family. Maybe the publisher Balthasar Schmid was visiting that night too.

Sketches and outlines, phrases, snatches of his beautiful new music was still in Bach’s head and at the tips of his fingers. Maybe he played them a piece or two and then listened to their trusted opinions.

I wanted to know more so obviously I turned to the internet, which revealed a trail of myths and other twisting histories about the music, its genesis and its composition.

The rain smacked onto the windows of my home. I continued down the trails I’d uncovered. I read about the sad and wonderful life of Glenn Gould, the pianist so closely associated with The Goldberg Variations.

Then the phone rang – a spam call – and I that made me think about Ai v9.23.87a making a piano sonata in 3 seconds by chopping up bits of Schubert, Chopin and JSB before being switched off for the night.

I stopped thinking about it at the point and turned to listening to the rain instead because there really was nothing more to be intrigued or excited about.