Lowry Yankwich is an award-winning podcaster, pianist, and lawyer. His podcasts, “30 Bach” and “The Tonic,” probe music’s place in history, society, and others’ lives. He has taught music and podcasting at Harvard, Stanford, and Temple University. He is teaching “Bach’s Muse: The Goldberg Variations” with us this fall.
For those new to the piece — what are the Goldberg Variations?
The Goldberg Variations are one of the masterworks of J.S. Bach – and one of western classical music’s crown jewels. The piece was published in 1741, toward the end of Bach’s life, and was originally written for the harpsichord.
The piece is built around an opening “aria,” or song, from which thirty variations follow. What’s unusual is that the variations aren’t based on the melody, which you might expect, but on the harmonic structure underneath. Bach creates thirty vastly different musical worlds — different moods, atmospheres — from that same foundation.
It feels like a journey. You start with this aria, and the variations take you across a whole landscape of emotion. Some are light and joyful and others get quite dark as you go deeper in. Then it emerges into this burst of energy and joy, and then the aria returns. You’re back where you started, but you feel like you’ve traveled really far and aren’t the same person as when you began.
Another remarkable part is how open the music is. Bach gives very few instructions — almost no tempo markings, for example — so there’s a lot of freedom for performers. There’s a sense that the music is written in a kind of universal way, which makes it very flexible and alive.
Is that what opens the door to jazz and improv?
Definitely. The structure itself almost invites people to ask, “What else can be done with this?” And people have done that, creating their own variations or reinterpretations, from John Coltrane to Silence of the Lambs.
It’s fitting, too, because Bach was known during his lifetime as an incredible improviser. That was a big part of the musical tradition then. So even though the notes are fixed now, I think there’s a sense that he would have appreciated people taking his ideas and running with them.
Who was Goldberg? Why aren’t these called Bach’s Variations?
There’s a famous story — probably more folklore than fact — that ties the piece to a Count who had insomnia. As the tale goes, he had a young court musician named Goldberg — who people think would have been about 13. The Count asked Bach to write music that could help him sleep, which Bach did, and Goldberg would play it for him at night.
Whether or not that’s true, it’s a nice story. The piece does have this balance: it’s stable — you’re basically in the same key the whole time — but there’s enough variation to keep your mind engaged. So you can imagine it working that way, even if the story itself is likely a myth.
Many people first encounter the Goldberg Variations through Glenn Gould. What’s his role in its popularity?
It’s hard to think of a piece that is so inextricably linked to a single performer, but that’s the case with the Goldberg Variations, for better or worse. Glenn Gould, an eccentric Canadian pianist, made two recordings of the piece — one in 1955 at the start of his career, and one in 1981, shortly before he passed away. The recordings are quite different from one another, but both are very unique and immediately recognizable as Gould. Gould’s quirks feed the lore around his recordings. He famously hummed while playing, and wore winter coats in summer time, but the recordings themselves are brilliant, if controversial. The recordings transcended classical music, and brought the Goldbergs into the mainstream in a way few classical recordings do.
Tell us a bit about your own musical path. Where does it begin for you?
I grew up in Palo Alto and started playing piano when I was five. Like a lot of people, there’s an inflection point — those early years can be tough, because you’re learning something hard and it doesn’t sound very good yet. But then, around ages 11 to 13, you either stop or you push through and start to feel more competent. For me, that’s when it really became something I cared about.
Bach was always a composer I connected to. His music can seem a little austere compared to later composers like Chopin, who are very directly expressive. But Bach has this kind of orderliness — something really satisfying. There’s a funny connection where people who like math or puzzles often love Bach. I don’t think that’s the whole story, but there’s definitely something there.
You’re also an attorney. How do music and law fit together for you?
Music has always been core to me. If I had to cut things away in my life, it would be the last thing to go.
But I’ve also been interested in other areas. I trained in music seriously for a time, but found that having multiple pursuits — like law and environmental policy — kept me sharper and more engaged overall. I’ve tried to pursue both in parallel, in a way that still feels meaningful and deep.
What do you hope OLLI members take away from your course?
First, I hope they come to understand the music more deeply — so they can listen and hear things they might not have noticed before. A lot of people feel intimidated by classical music, like it belongs to experts. Part of my goal is to show that it’s not limited to that world.
I also want people to learn about Bach himself — who he was, the time he lived in — and to see how this piece has inspired so many different creative projects. It’s not just a “classical music” artifact; it connects to a much broader creative landscape.
And on a bigger level, I hope people feel creatively inspired. This piece is really an exercise in creativity — setting up a structure and then exploring what you can do within it. I’d love for people to come away thinking, “I could do something like that in my own way.”
Finally, I hope there’s a sense of community — people learning together, sharing ideas, and connecting through the experience.