4/27/23 Student Senior Recital, Filopatir Ebid

SENIOR VOICE RECITAL Filopatir

Ebid, tenor

Carl Pantle, piano

Brylan Finley, mezzo-soprano

Thursday, April 27, 2023

7:30 pm

Recital Hall

Soirées musicales (1835)

La danza

La promessa

L’orgia

Verborgenheit (1888)

Intermezzo, from Liederkreis, op. 39, no. 2 (1840)

Es muss ein Wunderbares sein (1857)

Pause

Ich baue ganz, from Die Entführung aus dem Serail, K. 384 (1782)

Mandoline, op. 58, no. 1 (1891)

Sérénade italienne, op. 2, no. 5 (1883)

Les gars qui vont à la fête (1942) Bleuet (1939)

How Could I Ever Know, from The Secret Garden (1989)

Gioachino Rossini (1792–1868)

Hugo Wolf (1860–1902)

Robert Schumann (1810–1856)

Franz Liszt (1811–1886)

Wolfgang Amadè Mozart (1756–1791)

Gabriel Fauré (1845–1924)

Ernest Chausson (1855–1899)

Francis Poulenc (1899–1963)

Lucy Simon and Marsha Norman (1940–2022 and b. 1947)

Br ylan Finley, mezzo-soprano

This recital is presented as a requirement for the Bachelor of Music degree in music performance.

Filopatir Ebid is a fourth-year vocal performance major who studies with Daniel Ebbers and coaches with Eric Dudley. He also studies acting with James Haffner. An inspiring virtuoso tenor, he has ventured into many genres, ranging from opera to soul to R & B, and has found success as a freelance musician. He is involved with numerous professional ensembles, including Stockton Soul and Choral Audacity. He plans on pursuing a master’s program at Berklee College of Music in Valencia in the fall. Looking ahead, Filo hopes to release his own music and perform across the globe.

music.pacific.edu

Rossini: Soirées musicales

La danza

Già la luna è in mezzo al mare, Mamma mia si salterà; L’ora è bella per danzare, Chi è in amor non mancherà!

Presto in danza a tondo a tondo, Donne mie venite quà, Un garzon bello e giocondo A ciascuna toccherà.

Fin che in ciel brilla una stella, E la luna splenderà; Il più bel con la più bella Tutta notte danzerà.

Mamma mia, mamma mia, già la luna è in mezzo al mare, mamma mia, mamma mia, mamma mia si salterà. Frinche frinche frinche frinche mamma mia, si salterà, La la ra la ra . . .

Salta, salta, gira, gira, Ogni coppia a cerchio va, Già s’avvanza, si ritira, E all’ assalto tornerà.

Serra, serra colla bionda, Colla bruna va quà e là, Colla rossa va a seconda, Colla smorta fermo sta.

Viva il ballo a tondo, a tondo Sono un rè, sono un Bascià, È il più bel piacer del mondo, La più cara voluttà!

Carlo Pepoli

The Dance

Already the moon dips into the sea, my goodness, she’ll jump right in; the hour is fine for dancing, no one in love would miss it!

Swiftly dancing round and round, my ladies, come here, a handsome and playful fellow will dance with everyone.

As long as the star shines in the sky, and the moon glows brightly, the most handsome with the fairest will dance all night.

My goodness, my goodness, already the moon dips into the sea, my goodness, my goodness, my goodness, she’ll jump right in. Faster, faster, faster, faster, my goodness, she’ll jump right in. La la ra la ra . . .

Jump, jump, turn, turn, each couple circling round, already advances, then retreats and return to the assault again.

Hold tightly, hold tightly to the blonde, with the brunette go here and there, with the redhead go for a turn, with the wallflower stand still.

Long live dancing round and round, I’m a king, I’m a pasha, it is the greatest pleasure on earth, the dearest passion!

La promessa

Ch’io mai vi possa Lasciar d’amare,

The Promise

That I will ever be able to stop loving you

No, nol credete, Pupille care; Nemmen per gioco V ’ingannerò.

Voi sole siete

Le mie faville, E voi sarete, Care pupille, Il mio bel foco Sin ch’io vivrò.

—Pietro Metastasio

no, don’t believe it, dear eyes; not even to joke would I deceive you. You alone are my sparks, and you will be, dear eyes, my beautiful fire as long as I live.

L’orgia

Amiamo, cantiamo le donne e i liquor, gradita è la vita frà Bacco ed Amor.

Se Amore ho nel core, ho il vin nella testa, che gioia che festa, che amabile ardor.

Amando, scherzando, trincando liquor, m’avvampo, mi scampo da noie e dolor.

Cantiam, ridiam, gradita è la vita fra Bacco ed Amor!

Danziamo, cantiamo, alziamo il bicchier, ridiam, sfidiam i tristi pensier!

Regina divina, la madre d’amor, guiliva ravviva rinuova ogni cor.

Balzante, spumante con vivo bollor, e il vino divino del mondo signor.

The Party

Let’s love, let’s sing of women and liquor, life is a pleasure between Bacchus and Amor.

If love is in my heart and wine in my head, what joy, what a feast, what a lovely passion.

Loving, joking, drinking liquor, I burn, I escape from trouble and pain.

Let’s sing, let’s laugh, life is a pleasure, between Bacchus and Amor!

Let’s dance, let’s sing, let’s raise the glass, let’s laugh, let’s forget sad thoughts.

O divine queen, mother of love with joy revive, renew every heart!

Leaping, sparkling, foaming over with life and divine wine ruler of the world.

Già ballo traballo che odor, che vapor si beva ribeva con sacro furor.

Cantiam, ridiam, la vita e compita fra Bacco ed Amor!

Carlo Pepoli

Wolf: Verborgenheit

Lass, o Welt, o lass mich sein!

Locket nicht mit Liebesgaben

Lasst dies Herz alleine haben

Seine Wonne, seine Pein!

Was ich traure, weiss ich nicht, Es ist unbekanntes Wehe; Immerdar durch Tränen sehe

Ich der Sonne liebes Licht.

Oft bin ich mir kaum bewusst, Und die helle Freude zücket

Durch die Schwere, so mich drücket Wonniglich in meiner Brust.

Lass, o Welt, o lass mich sein!

Locket nicht mit Liebesgaben, Lasst dies Herz alleine haben

Seine Wonne, seine Pein!

Eduard Mörike

Schumann: Intermezzo

Dein Bildnis wunderselig

Hab’ ich im Herzensgrund, Das sieht so frisch und fröhlich Mich an zu jeder Stund’.

Mein Herz still in sich singet

Ein altes, schönes Lied, Das in die Luft sich schwinget

Und zu dir eilig zieht.

Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff

Liszt: Es muss ein Wunderbares sein

Es muss ein Wunderbares sein

Um’s Lieben zweier Seelen,

Already I dance, I stagger, what smell, what haze so drink and drink again in a holy frenzy.

Let’s dance, let’s laugh, life is complete between Bacchus and Amor!

Seclusion

Let, O world, O let me be! Do not tempt with gifts of love, let this heart keep to itself its delight, its pain!

I do not know why I grieve, it is unknown woe; always through tears I see the sun’s beloved light.

Often I am scarcely aware, and bright joy erupts through the hardships that oppress me, bringing delight to my breast.

Let, O world, O let me be! Do not tempt with gifts of love, let this heart keep to itself its delight, its pain!

Interlude

I bear your beautiful likeness deep within my heart, it gazes at me every hour so freshly and happily.

My heart sings softly to itself an old and beautiful song that soars into the sky and swiftly wings its way to you.

A wondrous rapture must it be It must be a wonderful thing for the love of two souls,

Sich schliessen ganz einander ein, Sich nie ein Wort verhehlen,

Und Freud und Leid und Glück und Not So mit einander tragen; Vom ersten Kuss bis in den Tod

Sich nur von Liebe sagen.

Oscar von Redwitz

Mozart: Ich baue ganz auf deine Stärke

Ich baue ganz auf deine Stärke, Vertrau’, o Liebe! deiner Macht!

Denn, ach! was wurden nicht für Werke

Schon oft durch dich zu Stand gebracht!

Was aller Welt unmöglich scheint, Wird durch die Liebe doch vereint.

Johann Gottlieb Stephanie

Fauré: Mandoline

Les donneurs de sérénades

Et les belles écouteuses

Échangent des propos fades

Sous les ramures chanteuses.

C’est Tircis et c’est Aminte, Et c’est l’éternel Clitandre, Et c’est Damis qui pour mainte Cruelle fait maint vers tendre.

Leurs courtes vestes de soie, Leurs longues robes à queues, Leur élégance, leur joie

Et leurs molles ombres bleues

Tourbillonnent dans l’extase

D’une lune rose et grise, Et la mandoline jase

Parmi les frissons de brise.

Paul Verlaine

Ernest Chausson: Sérénade italienne

Partons en barque sur la mer

Pour passer la nuit aux étoiles.

Vois, il souffle just assez d'air

Pour enfler la toile des voiles.

to enclose each other completely, never conceal a word,

And joy and sorrow, happiness and woe, each bear with the other; from that first kiss until death they speak only of love.

I build upon your strength I build upon your strength, I rely, O love, upon your power! For ah! What works cannot be achieved have often been achieved by you! What all the world thinks impossible will be united by love.

Mandolin

The serenade givers and their fair listeners exchange sweet nothings beneath singing branches.

Tircis is there, Aminte is there, and there’s the tedious Clitandre too, and Damis who for many a cruel maid writes many a tender song.

Their short silk doublets, their long trailing gowns, their elegance, their joy, and their soft blue shadows

Whirl in the ecstasy of a rosy and gray and moon, and the mandolin jangles on in the shivers of the breeze.

Italian Serenade

Let us go by boat on the sea to spend the night among the stars. See, it blows just enough air to swell the canvas of the sails.

Le vieux pêcheur italien

Et ceux des fils qui nous conduisent Écoutent mais n'entendent rien

Aux mots que nos bouches se disent.

Sur la mer calme et sombre, vois, Nous pouvons échanger nos âmes, Et nul ne comprendra nos voix

Que la nuit, le ciel et les lames.

Paul Bourget

Poulenc: Les gars qui vont à la fête

Les gars qui vont à la fête

Ont mis la fleur au chapeau

Pour y boire chopinette

Y goûter le vin nouveau

Y tirer la carabin

Y sucer le berlingot

Sont rasés à la cuiller

Sont raclés dessous la peau

Ont passé la blouse neuve

Le faux-col en cellulo

Y faire danser les filles

Chez Julien le violoneur

Des polkas et des quadrilles Et le pas des patineurs

Le piston la clarinette

Attendrissent les costauds

Quand ils ont bu, se disputent Et se cognent sur la peau

Puis vont culbuter les filles

Au fossé sous les ormeaux

Reboivent puis se rebattent Jusqu’au chant du premier jô

Le lendemain on en trouve

Sont couchés dans le ruisseau. Maurice Fombeure

The old Italian fisherman and his two sons, who guide us, hear but do not understand the words that we speak to each other. On the calm, dark sea, see, we can exchange our souls, and no one will understand our voices except the night, the sky, and the waves.

The lads who’re off to the fair

The lads who’re going to the fair have put flowers in their hats

They’re off to drink pints and taste new wine

To fire rifles to suck candies

They’ve shaved, they’ve scraped beneath the skin

And put on new smocks and detachable celluloid collars

They’ll dance with the girls at Julian the fiddler’s

Polkas and quadrilles and the skaters’ dance

Cornet and clarinet move the macho lads

When they’ve drunk, they argue and punch each other

And go to tumble the girls in the ditch beneath the elms

They’ll drink again and fight again till the song of dawn is heard

The next day some are found asleep in the ditch.

Bleuet

Jeune homme

De vingt ans

Qui as vu des choses si affreuses, Que penses-tu des hommes de ton enfance?

Tu connais la bravoure et la ruse,

Tu as vu la mort en face plus de cent fois,

Tu ne sais pas ce que c’est que la vie.

Transmets ton intrépidité

À ceux qui viendront Après toi.

Jeune homme

Tu es joyeux ta mémoire est ensanglantée

Ton âme est rouge aussi De joie.

Tu as absorbé la vie de ceux qui sont morts près de toi.

Tu as de la décision.

Il est dix-sept heures et tu saurais Mourir, Sinon mieux que tes aînés, Du moins plus pieusement, Car tu connais mieux la mort que la vie.

Ô douceur d’autrefois, Lenteur immémoriale.

Guillaume Apollinaire

Cornflower*

Young man of twenty years, you who have seen such horrific things, what do you think of the men from your childhood?

You know bravery and cunning, You have faced death more than a hundred times, you do not know what life is.

Hand down your fearlessness to those who will come after you.

Young man you are joyous, your memory is steeped in blood, your soul is red also with joy. You have absorbed the life of those who died beside you.

You are resolute. It is five o’clock and you would know how to die, if not better than your elders, at least with greater piety, for you are better acquainted with death than life.

Oh sweetness of bygone days, slow-moving beyond all memory.

*Young WWI French soldier in the new “horizon blue” uniform