Shannon Lyons
Monica Adams, piano
Marwan Ghonima, Miguel Velarde, double bass
Alejandro Villalobos, trumpet
Kyle Saelee, alto saxophone
Noah Gonzalez, drums
Sunday, February 2, 2025
7:30 pm
Recital Hall
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 2025 7:30 PM
Clairières dans le ciel (1914)
Elle était descendue au bas de la prairie
Elle est gravement gaie
Parfois je suis triste
Monica Adams, piano
from The Mystery of Edwin Drood (1985)
Monica Adams, piano
Lili Boulanger (1893–1918)
Rupert Holmes (b. 1947)
Shannon “Shazza” Lyons is completing her final semester as a music therapy major at University of the Pacific. She studies classical soprano with Heidi Moss Erickson and has previously studied with Eric Dudley and Robin Fisher. She has additionally taken jazz voice lessons with Melissa Fulkerson while being a member of Pacific Vocal Jazz Ensemble. With experience as a vocalist and instrumentalist in Pacific’s choirs and jazz band, Lyons has had ample opportunities to grow as a performer and collaborator during her time in the Conservatory. STUDENT BIOGRAPHY
Nuit d’étoiles (1882)
Claude Debussy (1862–1918)
Monica Adams, piano
Marwan Ghonima, double bass Tricotism (1956)
Oscar Pettiford (1922–1960)
arr. Cyrille Aimée (b. 1984)
Marwan Ghonima, double bass Moonglow (1934)
Benny Goodman (1909–1986)
Noah Gonzalez, drums Morning Sun (2015)
Alejandro Villalobos, trumpet
Kyle Saelee, alto saxophone
Miguel Velarde, double bass
Melody Gardot (b. 1985)
Boulanger: Clairières dans le ciel
Elle était descendue au bas de la prairie et, comme la prairie était toute fleurie de plantes dont la tige aime à pousser dans l’eau, ces plantes inondées je les avais cueillies. Bientôt, s’étant mouillée, elle gagna le haut de cette prairie-là qui était toute fleurie.
Elle riait et s’ébrouait avec la grâce dégingandée qu’ont les jeunes filles trop grandes. Elle avait le regard qu’ont les fleurs de lavande.
Elle est gravement gaie. Par moments son regard se levait comme pour surprendre ma pensée. Elle était douce alors comme quand il est tard le velours jaune et bleu d’une allée de pensées.
Parfois, je suis triste. Et, soudain, je pense à elle. Alors, je suis joyeux. Mais je redeviens triste de ce que je ne sais pas combien elle m’aime. Elle est la jeune fille à l’âme toute claire, et qui, de dans son cœur, garde avec jalousie l’unique passion que l’on donne à un seul. Elle est partie avant que s’ouvrent les tilleuls, et, comme ils ont fleuri depuis qu’elle est partie, je me suis étonné de voir, ô mes amis, des branches de tilleuls qui n’avaient pas de fleurs.
—Francis Jammes
Boulanger: Glades in the Sky
She had reached the low-lying meadow, and, since the meadow was all a-blossom with plants that like to grow in water, I had picked these flooded flowers. Soon, soaking wet, she reached the top of that blossoming meadow.
She was laughing and gasping with the gawky grace of girls who are too tall.
She had the look of lavender flowers.
She is solemnly cheerful. At times she looked up, as if to catch what I was thinking. She was gentle then, like at dusk the yellow-blue velvet of a path of pansies.
Sometimes I am sad. And suddenly, I think of her. Then, I am overjoyed. But I grow sad again, because I do not know how much she loves me.
She is the girl with the limpid soul, and who, in her heart, guards with jealousy the unrivalled passion garnered for one alone.
She went before the limes had blossomed, and since they flowered after she had gone, I was astonished to see, my friends, lime-tree branches devoid of flowers.
—trans. Richard Stokes
Holmes: Moonfall from The Mystery of Edwin Drood
Between the very dead of night and day, Upon a steely sheet of light I’ll lay. And in the Moonfall, I’ll give myself to you. I’ll bathe in Moonfall and dress myself in dew. Before the cloak of night reveals the morn, Time holds it a breath while it conceals the dawn. And in the Moonfall all sound is frozen still, Yet warm against me your skin will warm the chill of Moonfall. I feel its fingers lingers, the veil of night shade. Light made from stars that all too soon fall.
Moonfall that pours from you.
Betwixt our hearts let nothing intervene.
Between our eyes the only sight I’ve seen Is lustrous Moonfall as it blinds my view. So that soon I’ll only see but you.
—Rupert Holmes
Debussy: Nuit d’étoiles
Nuit d’étoiles,
Sous tes voiles, Sous ta brise et tes parfums, Triste lyre qui soupire, Je rêve aux amours défunts.
La sereine mélancolie
Vient éclore au fond de mon cœur, Et j’entends l’âme de ma mie
Tressaillir dans le bois rêveur.
Nuit d’étoiles,
Sous tes voiles,
Sous ta brise et tes parfums, Triste lyre qui soupire, Je rêve aux amours défunts.
Je revois à notre fontaine
Tes regards bleus comme les cieux; Cette rose, c’est ton haleine, Et ces étoiles sont tes yeux.
Nuit d’étoiles,
Sous tes voiles,
Sous ta brise et tes parfums, Triste lyre qui soupire, Je rêve aux amours défunts.
—Théodore de Banville
Debussy: Night of Stars
Night of stars,
Beneath your veils,
Beneath your breeze and fragrance, Sad lyre that sighs, I dream of bygone loves.
Serene melancholy
Now blooms deep in my heart, And I hear the soul of my love
Quiver in the dreaming woods.
Night of stars, Beneath your veils,
Beneath your breeze and fragrance, Sad lyre that sighs, I dream of bygone loves.
Once more at our fountain I see Your eyes as blue as the sky; This rose is your breath And these stars are your eyes.
Night of stars, Beneath your veils,
Beneath your breeze and fragrance, Sad lyre that sighs, I dream of bygone loves.
—trans. Richard Stokes
Goodman: Moonglow
It must have been Moonglow way up in the blue. It must have been Moonglow that led me straight to you. I still hear you saying, “dear one hold me fast.”
Then I start in praying, oh lord please let this last.
We seemed to float right through the air.
Heavenly songs seemed to come from everywhere.
And now when there’s Moonglow way up in the blue, I’ll always remember that Moonglow gave me you.
—Eddie DeLange and Irving Mills
Gardot: Morning Sun
There little baby, don’t you cry.
We’ve got that sunny morning suiting on us now.
There’s a light at the end of the tunnel. We can be worry free, just take it from me.
Honey child, let me tell you now, child.
That morning sun is here to greet us
With her loving light so warm.
That morning sun is here to meet us, she’s waiting on the waking up of everyone.
She ain’t gonna quit ‘til you’re smiling now.
Let me tell you child, let me tell you honey child.
That morning Sun that’s come to greet ya,
She’s peeking round the corner just waiting just to meet you.
Shining down on all your troubles.
Let me tell you child, let me tell you honey child.
Cause this world was made for dreaming, This world was made for you.
This world made for believing in all the things you’re gonna do
Now honey child, let me tell you now child.
—Melody Gardot
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