Sure, Icelandic pianist Víkingur Ólafsson’s albums have been streamed over 600 million times, making him one of the kings of the classical genre as far as putting his playing into people’s ears. But just as there are rock bands that must be experienced in person to get a full understanding of their talents, such is the case with Ólafsson.

That was clear early in Tuesday night’s first of his two Schubert Club International Artist Series recitals at St. Paul’s Ordway Concert Hall. Who would think that one man under a spotlight while seated at a Steinway could be so captivating? And to think that he did it all with one piece of music: the magnum opus of J.S. Bach’s creations for keyboard, the “Goldberg Variations.”

It’s a work that Ólafsson is taking to concert halls on six continents, and it’s unlikely that anyone left Tuesday’s sold-out performance uncertain as to why this 39-year-old is regarded as the master Bach interpreter of our era. For 75 minutes, he kept the 1,100 in attendance at rapt attention, guiding them on a journey to the depths of the composer’s genius with inspired approaches to each of the work’s 30 variations.

And it was indeed a journey. The “Goldberg Variations” can seem like a disconnected collection of short works in some hands, but Ólafsson brought a continuity to the collage that flowed as smoothly as the cross-handed cascades that trickled down the keyboard in multiple movements.

Yet don’t mistake continuity for a lack of variety. The pianist emphasized sharp contrasts in mood and dynamics, starting things off with a whispering iteration of the theme before establishing during the first variation that this would be an emotional exercise as much as an intellectual one. It’s easy to get caught up in the mathematics of Bach, the musical puzzles that he challenges audiences to assemble in their minds, but Ólafsson made certain that the heart would be heard.

You could call the “Goldberg Variations” something of a survey of all that was going on musically in Europe during the first half of the 18th century — flavors of Italy, France, Germany, Ireland and elsewhere emerge — but Ólafsson not only peered toward the past but charged confidently into the future. Airs of the romantic era emerged in the most emotive of variations, especially in the work’s final movements.

Before that, the audience had already been treated to a buffet of widely varying flavors, from minuets at maximum velocity to calming reflections that tug at the tear ducts. And when the music was fastest, Ólafsson was at his most remarkably precise, staccato sojourns up and down the keys giving way to stretches in which the pianist’s hands crossed and overlapped, his fingers almost intertwining to meet Bach’s demands.

Ólafsson made the 25th variation a mesmerizing reflection on yearning and grief before setting off a series of explosions that succeeded in raising the emotional ante with each new movement, with no pause between the final six variations.

After the work concluded with the same quiet theme that launched this odyssey, the audience rose virtually as one, recognizing that this was an experience to be treasured, an intimate interchange of energy that no streaming service can offer.

Rob Hubbard is a Twin Cities classical music writer. Reach him at wordhub@yahoo.com.