Junior Voice Recital, Charlize Price 04/16/24

JUNIOR VOICE RECITAL

Charlize Price, soprano

Tuesday, April 16, 2024 7:30 pm

Recital Hall

Monica Adams, piano

APRIL 16, 2023, 7:30 PM

Batti, batti, o bel Masetto from Don Giovanni, K. 527 (1787)

Je te veux (1897)

Le statue de bronze from Trois mélodies (1916)

L’absence from Les nuits d’été (1843)

Six Elizabethan Songs (1957) Diaphenia Spring

Early in the Morning (1957)

Someone to Watch Over Me from Oh, Kay! (1926)

I Hate Men from Kiss Me, Kate (1948)

The Tale of the Oyster from Fifty Million Frenchmen (1929)

Wolfgang Amadè Mozart (1756–1791)

Erik Satie (1866–1925)

Hector Berlioz (1803–1869)

Dominick Argento (1927–2019)

Ned Rorem (1923–2022)

George Gershwin (1898–1937)

Cole Porter (1891–1964)

This recital is presented as a degree requirement for a Bachelor of Music in Music Performance.

Soprano Charlize Price is a third-year transfer student from Modesto Junior College majoring in vocal performance at University of the Pacific, currently studying with Daniel Ebbers. While she has found her love for opera, classical, and music theater works during her time at Pacific—most recently playing as the role of Oberto in Pacific Opera Theatre’s production of Alcina—Price is also an established singer-songwriter in California’s Central Valley.

Mozart: Batti, batti, o bel Masetto ZERLINA

Ma se colpa io non ho! ma se da lui ingannata rimasi! E poi, che temi?

Tranquìllati, mia vita: non mi toccò la punta delle dita. Non me lo credi? Ingrato!

Vien qui, sfògati, ammazzami, fa’ tutto di me quel che ti piace: ma poi, Masetto mio, ma poi fa’ pace.

Batti, batti, o bel Masetto, la tua povera Zerlina: starò qui come agnellina le tue bòtte ad aspettar.

Lascerò straziarmi il crine, lascerò cavarmi gli occhi; e le tue care manine lieta poi saprò baciar. Ah, lo vedo, non hai core! Pace, pace, o vita mia! In contento ed allegria notte e dì vogliam passar.

—Lorenzo da Ponte

Satie: Je te veux

J’ai compris ta détresse, Cher amoureux, Et je cède à tes voeux: Fais de moi ta maîtresse. Loin de nous la sagesse, Plus de détresse, J’aspire à l’instant précieux Où nous serons heureux: Je te veux.

Je n’ai pas de regrets, Et je n’ai qu’une envie: Près de toi, là, tout près, Vivre toute ma vie.

Que mon coeur soit le tien Et ta lèvre la mienne, Que ton corps soit le mien, Et que toute ma chair soit tienne. J’ai compris ta détresse, etc.

Beat me, beat me, dear Masetto ZERLINA

I’m not to blame, but he tricked me! I stayed, what do you think of me?

Calm down, my love: he didn’t touch me with the tip of his finger. You don’t believe me? You Ingrate! Come here, strike me, do anything that pleases you: then, my Masseto may there be peace between us.

Beat me, beat me, dear Masetto, your poor Zerlina,

I’ll stay here like a little lamb

I’ll await your blows

I’ll let my hair be pulled

I’ll let you gouge out my eyes; and your dear little hands

I’ll happily kiss afterwards.

Ah, I see you have no heart!

Peace peace, my love!

Let us pass the nights and days In happiness.

—trans. Andrew Schneider

I Want You

I have understood your distress, dear lover, and I yield to your wish: make me your mistress. Modesty shall be far from us, no more distress, I long for the precious moment when we will be happy: I want you.

I have no regrets, and I want only one thing: next to you, there, so close, to live all of my life.

Let my heart be yours and your lips be mine, let your body be mine, and let all of my flesh be yours.

I have understood your distress, etc.

Oui, je vois dans tes yeux

La divine promesse

Que ton coeur amoureux

Vient chercher ma caresse.

Enlacés pour toujours,

Brûlés des mêmes flammes, Dans des rêves d’amours, Nous échangerons nos deux âmes.

—Henry Pacory

Satie: Le statue de bronze

La grenouille

Du jeu de tonneau

S’ennuie, le soir, sous la tonnelle...

Elle en a assez!

D’être la statue

Qui va prononcer un grand mot: Le Mot!

Elle aimerait mieux être avec les autres

Qui font des bulles de musique

Avec le savon de la lune

Au bord du lavoir mordoré

Qu’on voit, là-bas, luire entre les branches . . .

On lui lance à coeur de journée

Une pâture de pistoles

Qui la traversent sans lui profiter

Et s’en vont sonner

Dans les cabinets

De son piédestal numéroté!

Et le soir, les insectes couchent

Dans sa bouche . . .

Berlioz: L’absence

—Léon-Paul Fargue

Reviens, reviens, ma bien-aimée!

Comme une fleur loin du soleil, La fleur de ma vie est fermée, Loin de ton sourire vermeil.

Entre nos cœurs quelle distance; [Tant]2 d’espace entre nos baisers.

Ô sort amer ! ô dure absence!

Ô grands désirs inapaisés!

Yes, I see in your eyes the divine promise that your loving heart comes to seek my caress. Enlaced forever, burned with the same flames, in dreams of love, we will exchange our two souls —trans. Laura Pranada Sylvis

The Bronze Statue

The frog

Of the barrel game

Grows weary at evening, beneath the arbor...

She has had enough!

Of being the statue

Who is about to pronounce a great word: The Word!

She would love to be with the others

Who make music bubbles

With the soap of the moon

Beside the lustrous bronze tub

That one sees there, shining between the branches . . .

At midday one hurls at her

A feast of discs

That pass through without benefit to her

And will resound

In the chambers

Of her numbered pedestal!

And at night, the insects go to sleep

In her mouth . . .

Absence

—Shawn Thuris

Come back, come back, my dearest love! Like a flower far from the sun,

The flower of my life has drooped, removed the beauty of your smile.

Between our hearts, how long a distance!

What a wide space our kisses divide!

O bitter fate! O cruel absence!

O longing vain, unsatisfied

D’ici là-bas que de campagnes,

Que de villes et de hameaux,

Que de vallons et de montagnes,

À lasser le pied des chevaux!

—Pierre-Jules-Théophile Gautier

Rorem: Early in the Morning

Early in the morning

Of a lovely summer day

As they lowered the bright awning

At the outdoor café

I was breakfasting on croissants

And café au lait

Under greenery like scenery

Rue François Premier

They were hosing the hot pavement

With a dash of flashing spray

And a smell of summer showers

When the dust is drenched away

Under greenery like scenery

Rue François Premier

I was twenty and a lover

And in Paradise to stay

Very early in the morning

Of a lovely summer day

Argento: Diaphenia

—Robert Hillyer

Diaphenia, like the daffadowndilly

White as the sun, fair as the lily

Heigh ho, how I do love thee!

I do love thee as my lambs

Are belovèd of their dams:

How blest were I if thou would’st prove me

Diaphenia, like the spreading roses

That in thy sweets all sweets encloses

Fair sweet, how I do love thee!

I do love thee as each flower

Loves the sun’s life-giving power;

For dead, thy breath to life might move me

Continued on the next page

From thee to me how wide the country

Town and hamlets in long array, What winding valleys, rugged mountains, What tir’d horses along the way!

—trans. Emily Ezust

Diaphenia, like to all things blessèd

When all thy praises are expressèd

Dear joy, how I do love thee!

As the birds do love the spring

Or the bees their careful king,—

Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me!

—Henry Chettle

Argento: Spring

Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year’s pleasant king;

Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring

Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The palm and may make country houses gay

Lambs frisk and play, the shepherd pipes all day

And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet

Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit

In every street these tunes our ears do greet

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

Spring! The sweet Spring!

—Thomas Nashe

Gershwin: Someone to Watch Over Me

There’s a saying old says that love is blind

Still we’re often told ”seek and ye shall find”

So I’m going to seek a certain girl I’ve had in mind

Looking everywhere, haven’t found her yet

She’s the big affair I cannot forget

Only girl I ever think of with regret

I’d like to add her initials to my monogram

Tell me where’s the shepherd for this lost lam

There’s a somebody I’m longing to see

I hope that she turns out to be

Someone to watch over me

I’m a little lamb who’s lost in a wood

I know I could always be good

To one who’ll watch over me

Although I may not be the man some girls think of As handsome to my heart

She carries the key

Won’t you tell her please to put on some speed

Follow my lead, oh how I need Someone to watch over me

Porter: I Hate Men

I hate men.

—Ira Gershwin

I can’t abide them even now and then. Then ever marry one of them, I’d rest a maiden rather, For husbands are a boring lot that only give you bother. Of course, I’m awful glad that mother had to marry father. Still, I hate men.

Of all the types of men I’ve met in our democracy, I hate the most the athlete with his manner bold and brassy. He may have hair upon his chest, but sister, so has Lassie!

Oh, I hate men!

I hate men.

They should be kept like piggies in a pen.

You may be wooed by Jack the Tar, so charming and so chipper, But if you’re wooed by Jack the Tar, be sure that you’re the skipper, For Jack the Tar can go too far. Remember Jack the Ripper?

Oh, I hate men!

If thou shouldst wed a business man, be wary, oh be wary: He’ll tell you he’s detained in town on business necessary. The business is the business that he gives his secretary!

Oh, I hate men!

I hate men.

Though roosters they, I will not play the hen.

If you espouse an older man through girlish optimism, He’ll always stay at home at night and make no criticism.

Though you may call it love, the doctors call it rheumatism.

Oh, I hate men!

—Cole Porter

Porter: The Tale of the Oyster

Down by the sea lived a lonesome oyster,

Ev’ry day getting sadder and moister.

He found his home life awf’lly wet

And longed to travel with the upper set

Poor little oyster.

Fate was kind to that oyster we know, When one day the chef from the Park Casino

Saw that oyster lying there

And said ”I’ll put you on my bill of fare.”

Lucky little oyster.

See him on his silver platter,

Watching the queens of fashion chatter,

Hearing the wives of millionaires

Discuss their marriages and their love affairs.

Thrilled little oyster.

See that bivalve social climber

Feeding the rich Mrs. Hoggenheimer,

Think of his joy as he gaily glides

Down to the middle of her gilded insides.

Proud little oyster.

After lunch Mrs. H. complains

And says to her hostess, ”I’ve got such pains.

I came to town on my yacht today

But I think I’d better hurry back to Oyster Bay.”

Scared little oyster.

Off they go through the troubled tide, The yacht rolling madly from side to side. They’re tossed about till that fine young oyster

Finds that it’s time he should quit his cloister.

Up comes the oyster.

Back once more where he started from He murmured, ”I haven’t a single qualm

For I’ve had a taste of society

And society has had a taste of me.”

Wise little oyster.

—Cole Porter