Sara Cox, Soprano Senior Recital Program Notes April 18, 2021
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Cécile Chaminade Cécile Chaminade (1857-1944) was a prolific, French composer during the turn of the 20 century. Born in an upper-middle class family, Chaminade was surrounded by music. Her parents hosted Parisian salons for many composers and artists. Both her mother and father quickly realized that their daughter was extremely gifted at the piano. She began taking piano and singing lessons under the direction of her mother. By the age of seven, Chaminade started her compositional career. When she turned nine years old, the Chaminade family moved to Vésinet, and it was there that Georges Bizet learned of her musical talents both as a performer and composer. Instantly, Bizet was enamored of her skills, and he referred to her as his “little Mozart.” Chaminade longed to attend the Conservatoire de Paris with encouragement from Bizet, but her father refused to send her. He thought it was inappropriate for a woman of her background to enroll in school. Determined to progress musically, Chaminade managed to study composition, harmony, and piano privately. At 18 years of age, she played her first recital, which sparked her popularity in both Europe and the United States. Queen Victoria routinely invited Chaminade to play at Windsor Castle. And, in 1913, she became the first female winner of the Légion de Honneur. During her lifetime, Chaminade composed over 400 works ranging from operas to orchestral suites. Even more popular were her character piano pieces along with her art song repertoire. She composed 100 vocal songs all of which were published before her death. Her vocal repertoire tends to favor the stylings of French 19th century music as demonstrated in today’s program. “Villanelle” conveys her elegant and tuneful melodies whereas “Malgré nous” catches audiences by surprise with her well known chromaticism. “Sombrero” illustrates the wittiness to her writing. In 1944, Chaminade died in Monaco after deteriorating health issues. th
Villanelle Le blé superbe est rentré, Fête aux champs, fête au village. Chaque fillette au corsage, Porte un bleuet azuré; Fête aux champs, fête au village!
The superb wheat has returned, Festival in the fields, festival in the village. Each girl wears a blue cornflower on her bodice. Festival in the fields, festival in the village!
Les jeunes gens danseront. Ce soir, dans la grande allée: Et, sous la nuit étoilée, Que de mains se chercheront.
The young people will dance. This evening, in the main alleyway: And, under the starry night, How many hands will seek each other out.
Ce soir, dansez jus-qu’au jour. Aux gais sons de vos musettes! Jeunes garçons et fillettes, Chantez vos refrains d’amour. Au gais sons de vos musettes!
This evening, dance until daylight. To the cheerful sounds of your bagpipes! Young boys and girls, Sing your refrains of love. To the cheerful sounds of your bagpipes!
Sans contrainte et sans remords, Enivrez-vous de jeunesse:
Without constraint and remorse, Become drunk with youth:
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La tristesse est pour les morts, Pour les vivants a’allégresse, Enivrez-vous de jeunesse!
The sadness is for the dead, For the living have joy. Become drunk with youth!
Dansez jus-qu’an jour, Fête aux champs, fête au village. Chaque fillette au corsage, Porte un bleuet azuré, Fête aux champs, fête au village!
Dance until daylight, Festival in the fields, festival in the village. Each girl wears a blue cornflower on her bodice. Festival in the fields, festival in the village!
Malgré nous Ce n’est pas la faute à nos deux Si nous nous aimons de la sorte: Un jour le dieu des amoureux De notre coeur força la porte.
This is not both of our faults If we love each other in this way: One day the god of lovers From our heart forced the door.
Or, nous faisons de notre mieux, Vous et moi, pour que l’intrus sorte; Ce n’est pas la faute à nous deux Si nous nous aimons de la sorte.
And yet, we do our best, You and I, for that intruder must leave; This is not both of our faults If we love each other in this way.
Contre un hôte si dangereux Nul n’ose nous prèter main forte; La raison fut soured à nos voeux, L’amitié même fit la morte, Ce n’est pas la faute à nous deux.
Against such a dangerous host No one dared to lend us a strong hand; The reason was deaf to our wishes, The friendship itself made the dead. This is not both of our faults.
Rêve d’un soir Rêve d’un soir, rêve d’une heure, Tu t’est enfui sur l’aile du désir. Ta félicité n’est qu’un leurre, Rêve d’un soir, rêve d’une heure Que vainnement je cherche à ressaisir.
Dream of the evening, dream of the hour, You fled on the wing of desire. Your sheer happiness is simply alluring. Dream of the evening, dream of the hour That in vain I try to capture.
Ton enchantement nous effleure, Tu disparais dans les feux du matin, Notre voix t’appelle et te pleure Rêve d’un soir, rêve d’un heure, O doux mirage enivrant et lointain!
Your enchantment touches us, You disappear in the fires of the morning, Our voice calls and weeps for you Dream of the evening, dream of the hour, O sweet, intoxicating and distant mirage!
Puisqu’ici-bas rien ne demeure, Passe, éteins-toi comme un rayon d’été.
Because below nothing remains, Pass by, extinguish yourself ray of summer.
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Mais comme un lys avant qu’il meure, Rêve d’un soir, rêve d’une heure, Ah! laisse-nous ton parfum enchanté!
But, like a lily before it dies, Dream of the evening, dream of the hour, Ah! Leave us your enchanting perfume!
Sombrero Qu’elle était mutine et coquette, La fillette Du vieux Pédro! Elle avait mis sur son oreille Si vermeille Un sombrero.
She was disobedient and flirtatious, The little girl Of old Pedro! She had placed on her ear A ruby Sombrero.
Elle avait un petit air crane De Diane, de Diane courant le cerf; L’oeil indompté d’une cavale Qui détale Dans le desert.
She had a little skull from Diane that looked like a common deer. The untamed eye of a runaway who had escaped in the desert.
Autour de sa taille, serrée et cambrée, Son corset noir Reluisait comme une cuirasse, Claire glace, Vivant miroir;
Around her tiny waist, tight and arched, Her black corset gleaming by the plating, Clear ice, Living reflection;
Elle avait pris un ton farouche, Et sa bouche, Rose clairon, Sonnait une bréve fanfare; Et bizarre, Plissait, plissait le front.
She had taken a fierce tone And her mouth, the rose bugle, Sounded a brief fanfare; And bizarre, Furrowed his brow.
Elle frappait, frappait contre la dale Sa sandale fièreusement. Elle attendait impatiente, Défiante, Son jeune amant.
Elle was knocking against the slab Her sandal fervently. Elle waited impatiently, Defiant, For her young lover.
“Il ne viendra pas,” songeait elle, “L’infidèle, il est trop tard!” Elle tenait dans sa main blanche, Par le manche, Son fin poignard.
“He won’t come,” she thought, “The infidel. It’s too late.” She held in her white hand, By the handle, His thin dagger.
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Qu’elle était trouble, trouble, inquiète, La fillette Du vieux Pédro. Elle avait mis sur son Oreille Si vermeille un sombrero.
She was troubled, worried, The little girl Of old Pedro! She had put to her ear A ruby sombrero.
Translations adapted by Sara Cox
Gaetano Donizetti Born in northern Italy, Gaetano Donizetti (1797-1848) was one of the most influential operatic composers of the bel canto era. Although his family was poor, Donizetti attended a music school where he trained as a chorister. He studied under Giovanni Simone Mayr, a Bavarian priest and operatic composer. Donizetti did not possess vocal aptitude himself, but during his study, he began to appreciate the singing voice. At the age of 19, he traveled to Bologna where he studied counterpoint at Liceo Filarmonco. While he was a student, Donizetti wrote several sacred songs and chamber works, but he realized that he wanted to compose for the theater. Donizetti wrote over 65 operas ranging from comedic tales to historical reenactments. In 1830, Anna Bolena premiered in Milan, which brought him immense popularity throughout Europe. He was most famous for L’elisir d’amore (1832), Lucia di Lammermoor (1835), La fille du régiment (1840), and La favorite (1840). Along with his operatic career, Donizetti also wrote 250 art songs. The song “La Zingara” originally comes from one of his earlier operas that premiered in Naples. Several of his art songs are character driven while others simply showcase the agility of the voice. After the loss of his children and his wife, Donizetti suffered from deep grief, and his health began to slowly deteriorate. He was placed in a Parisian insane asylum due to his syphilitic insanity and spasms. In 1848, Donizetti’s nephew took him home where he died.
La Zingara La Zingara. La Zingara. Fra l’erbe cosparse di rorido gelo, Coverta del solo gran manto del cielo, Mia madre esultando la vita me diè.
The gypsy. The gypsy. Among the sprinkled herbs with dewy frost, Cover of the only great mantle of heaven, My mother exulting brought me life.
Fanciulla, sui greppi le capre emulai, Per ville e cittadi, cresciuta, danzai, Le dame lor palme distesero a me.
Maiden, I emulated the goats in the fields, Through the villas and towns, grown up, danced, The ladies extended their palms to me.
La ra la, la ra la, la ra la, la ra la, La ra la, la ra la, la la la la, La, la, la, la, ah!
la ra la, la ra la, la ra la, la ra la, la ra la, la ra la, la la la la, La, la, la, la, ah!
La Zingara. La Zingara.
The gypsy. The gypsy.
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Io loro predissi le cose no note, Ne feci dolente, ne feci beate, Segreti conobbi di sdegno, d’amor.
I predicted the known things, I made it painful, I made it happy, I knew the secrets of indignation, of love.
La ra la, la ra la, la ra la, la ra la, La ra la, la ra la, la la la la, La, la, la, la, ah!
la ra la, la ra la, la ra la, la ra la, la ra la, la ra la, la la la la, La, la, la, la, ah!
La Zingara. La Zingara.
The gypsy. The gypsy.
Un giomo la mano mi porse un donzello; Mai visto non fummi garzone piu bello: Oh! s’ei nella destra legessimi il cor! Oh! s’ei nella destra legessimi il cor!
One day the hand offered me a young boy; Never seen me, you were the most beautiful boy: Oh! If only you could read the secrets of my heart! Oh! If only you could read the secrets of my heart!
Amiamo Or che l’étà ne invita, Cerchiamo di goder. L’instante del piacer passa e non torna. Grave divine la vita Se non si coglie il fior; Di fresche rose amor solo l’adorna.
Now that age invites some, We try to enjoy. The moment of pleasure passes and does not return. Life becomes serious If the flower is not plucked; Love only adorns it with fresh roses.
Più bella sei, più devi Ad amor voti e fé; Altra beltà non è che un suo tribute. Amiam ché I dì son brevi; È un giorno senza amore, Un giorno di dolor, giono perduto.
The more beautiful you are, the more you owe to love, vows, and faith. Another beauty is nothing but a tribute to her. Let us love because the days are brief. It is a day without love, A day of pain, a lost day.
La Gondola Meco in barchetta celere Scendi, leggiadra Cloris. Vieni, cerchiamo ai zeffiri Conforto degli ardori Che ricaldano il dì.
Come quickly with me in this little boat Come down, graceful Cloris. Come, let’s look for the zephyrs Comfort of ardor That heat up the day.
Vieni, gìa l’onda tremola È specchio della luna, E come l’aure baciano La placida laguna Te bacieran così.
Come, the wave is already trembling It is the mirror of the moon, And how the aura kiss The placid lagoon They will kiss you like that.
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Vieni, e il tuo crin nerissimo In preda all’aure ondeggi, E del mio core il palpito Coll’ondeggiar pareggi, Se pareggiar si può.
Come, with your very black hair In the grip of the aura you sway, And the beating of my heart With swaying let it be compared, If you can compare, one can.
Vedrai nel cielo limipdo Brillar lucent stele, A cui due luci fulgide Iddio creò sorelle, E il tuo bel viso orno.
You will see in the clear sky Shine glowing stars To which two bright lights God created sisters, And your beautiful face adorns.
Scendi, vezzosa Cloride, E me vedrai beato, E in estasi soavissinma Di te seduto a lato Mi pascerò d’amor.
Come down, charming Cloride, And you will see me blessed, And in sweet ecstasy Of you sitting at the side I will nourish myself with love.
E la tua destracandida Al petto mellmente Fa che mi possa premere, E il palpito frequente Intenda del mio cor.
And your right hand white at the bosom softly Let me press, And the frequent beating heartbeat Intent of my heart.
Translations adapted by Sara Cox
Hugo Wolf Hugo Wolf (1860-1903) was a late 19th century Austrian composer who led a life marred by temperament and lack of focus. Through his own artistic focus and the generosity of friends, he was able to compose some of the most influential songs of his time. Wolf attended a number of institutions of higher learning and finally found some success in conservatory only to be expelled because another student wrote a note against a professor and signed Wolf’s name. Able to continue to write through the monetary support of his friends, Wolf studied and formed friendships with Wagner, Mahler, and other well-known composers of his time. He was well versed in the style of his predecessors like Schubert, Schumann and Loewe. Wolf had a particular ability to take the poetry of his day and translate it into a piece of music that matched the mood and emotional nuances intended by the author. The bulk of his songs were written between 1888 and 1891, which coincided with the beginning of his love affair with Melanie Kochert and the end of his stint as a music critic. Wolf wrote five songbooks of note and more than 100 songs. His final attempt at an opera was left unfinished when he died in an asylum in 1903. He had contracted syphilis in 1878 while visiting a brothel with one of his friends and during the time he was trying to find his place in the music world. He eventually died of the disease after more than one attempt to take his own life. He wrote Italienisches Liederbuch as
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two books of songs. The first was a set of twenty-two songs written in 1891 and the second book was written five years later in 1896. All of the poems were adapted from Italian into German by Paul Heyse, a famous German writer and translator. Each song represents how skillfully Wolf was able to wed music and poetry; conveying the moods through melody, harmony and rhythm.
Auch kleine Dinge Auch kleine Dinge können uns entzücken, Auch kleine Dinge können theuer sein. Bedenkt, wie gern wir un smit Perlen schmücken; Sie werden schwer bezahlt und sind nur klein. Bedenkt, wie klein ist die Olivenfrucht, Und wird um ihre Güte doch gesucht. Denkt an die Rose nur, wie klein sie ist Und duftet doch so lieblich, we ihr wisst.
Even small things can delight us, Even small things can be precious. Think how gladly we deck ourselves with pearls; They fetch a great price but are only small. Think how small the olive is, And yet it is prized for its goodness. Think only of the rose, how small it is And yet smells so lovely, as you know.
Mein Liebster ist so klein Mein Liebster ist so klein, dass ohne Büchen Er mir das Zimmer fegt mit seinen Locken, Als er ins Gärtlein ging, Jasmin zu pflücken, Ist er vor einer Schnecke sehr erschrocken. Dann setzt er sich ins Haus um zu verschnaufen, Da warf ihn eine Fliege übern Haufen; Und als er hintrat an mein Fensterlein, Stiess eine Bremse ihm den Schädel ein. Verwünscht sei’n alle Fliegen, Schnaken, Bremsen, Und wer ein Schätzchen hat aus den Maremmen! Verwünscht sei’n alle Fliegen, Schnaken, Mücken Und wer sich, wenn er küsst, so tief muss bücken!
My sweetheart’s so small, that without bending down He can sweep my room with his hair. When he entered the garden to pick jasmine He was terrified by a snail. Then when he came indoors to recover, A fly knocked him head over heels; And when he stepped over to my window, A horse-fly saved his head in. A curse on all flies, crane, and horse, And anyone with a sweetheart from Maremma! A curse on all flies, craneflies, and midges And on all who have to stoop for a kiss!
O wär dein Haus durchsichtig wie ein Glas O wär dein Haus durchsichtig wie ein Glas, Main Holder, wenn ich mich vorüberstehle! Dann säh’ ich drinnen dich ohn’ Unterlass, Wie blickt’ ich dann nach dir mit ganzer Seele! Wie viele Blicke schickte mir dein Herz, Mehr als da Tropfen hat der Flus sim März! Wie viele Blicke schickt’ ich dir engegen,
If only your house were transparent as glass, My love, when I steal past! Then I would always see you within, How I would gaze at you with all my soul! How many looks my heart would send you, More than the river in march has drops! How many looks I would send you,
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Mehr als da Tropfen niedersprühn im Regen!
More than drops that shower down in rain!
Mir ward gesagt, du reisest in die Ferne Mir ward gesagt, du reisest in die Ferne. Ach, wohin gehst du, mein geliebtes Leben? Den Tag, an dem du scheidest, wüss ich gerne; Mit Tränen will ich das Geleit dir geben. Mit Tränen will ich deinen Weg befeuchten Gedenk an mich, und Hoffnung wird mir leuchten! Mit Tränen bin ich bei dir allerwärts Gedenk an mich, vergiss es nicht, mein Herz!
They told me you were going far away. Ah, where are you going, love of my life? The day you leave, I would gladly know; I shall accompany you with my tears. I shall bedew your path with my tears Think of me, and hope will give me light! With tears I’m with you, wherever you are Think of me, do not forget, my heart!
Du denkst mit einem Fädchen mich zu fangen Du denkst mit einem Fädchen mich zu fangen, Mit einem Blick schon mich verliebt zu machen? Ich fing schon andre, die sich höher schwagen; Du darfst mir ja micht traun, siehst du mich lachen. Schon andre fing ich, glaub es sicherlich. Ich bin verliebt, doch eben nicht in dich.
You think you can catch me with a thread, Make me fall in love with a mere glance? I’ve caught others who flew higher, You can’t trust me if you see me laugh. I’ve caught others, believe you me. I am in love, but not with you.
Schweig’ einmal still Schweif’ einmal still, du garst’ger Schwätzer dort! Zum Eke list mir dein verwünschtes Singen. Und triebst du es bis morgen früh so fort, Doch würde dir kein schmuckes Lied gelingen. Schweig’ einmal still und dich aufs Ohr! Das Ständchen eines Esels zög’ ich vor.
Shut up out there, you odious ranter! You cursed singing makes me sick. And even if you kept it up till morning, You’d still not manage a decent song. Shut up for once and go to bed! I’d sooner hear a donkey’s serenade!
Translations by Richard Stokes
Dominick Argento Dominick Argento (1927-2019) was born in 1927 and only recently passed in 2019. Argento studied both in the United States and in Italy. He believed the intensity of the music scene on the east coast would not allow him the space he needed to compose. He would eventually take a professorship at the University of Minnesota. Argento is well known for his lyrical work, and his most recognized operas include Postcards from Morocco (1971), Miss
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Havisham’s Fire (1979) and The Aspern Papers (1987). In addition to writing operas, he also wrote song cycles and drew inspiration from prose, poetry, and diaries. He believed that prose gave him more flexibility musically and said, “to make lines longer, to make them go to interesting directions. Poetry in a sense dictates the highs and lows, the duration, the rhythm.” In 1975, he won the Pulitzer Prize for the song cycle From the Diary of Virginia Woolf. His earlier song cycle, Six Elizabethan Songs, quickly became popular amongst audiences and performers. There are actually two different versions of the work. The first cycle was composed in Florence, Italy for Nicholas di Virglio, a popular tenor at the time. In 1958, the second version was written for baroque accompaniment instead of simply for piano. Each piece is set to a different poem by famous English writers ranging from William Shakespeare to Ben Jonson. Through his lyricism and complex harmonies, Argento conveys several depictions of English history and country life.
Spring Spring, the sweet Spring Is the years pleasant king: Then blooms each thing. Then maids dance in a ring. Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug-jug, puwe, to-wit-ta-woo! The palms and may make country houses gay. Lambs frisk and play, the shepherd pipes all day. And, we hear ay birds tune this merry lay, Cucoo, jug-jug, puwe, to-wit-ta woo! The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss out feet. Young lovers meet. Old wives a-sunning sit. In every street, these tunes our ears do greet. Cucoo, jug-jug, puwe, to-wit-ta woo! Spring, the sweet spring!
Sleep Care charmer Sleep, son of the sable night. Brother to Death, in silent darkness born.
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Relieve my anguish and restore they light; With darker forgetting of my care return. And let the day be time enough to mourn, The shipwreck of my ill adventured youth: Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn. Without the torment of the night’s untruth. Cease, dreams, The images of day desires. To model forth the passions of the morrow. Never let rising sun approve you liars. To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow. Still let me sleep, Embracing clouds in vain. And, never wake to feel the day’s disdain.
Winter When icicles hang by the wall. And, Dick the shepherd blows his nail. And, Tom bears logs into the hall. And milk comes frozen home in pail. When blood is nipt, and ways be foul. Then, nightly sings the staring owl. Tu-whoo! Tu-whit! Tu-woo! A merry note! When greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow. And, coughing drowns the parson’s saw. And, birds sit brooding in the snow. And, Marianne’s nose looks red and raw. When roasted crabs, Hiss in the bowl. Then, nightly sings the staring owl. Tu-woo! Tu-whit! Tu-woo! A merry note! While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
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Dirge Come away, come away, Death. And in sad cypress let me be laid: Fly away, fly away, breath. I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white stuck all with yew, O prepare it. O prepare it. My part of death no one so true, Did share it. Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet. On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet. My poor corpse where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand thousand sighs to save. Lay me, O where sad true lover, never find my grave. To weep there.
Diaphenia 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 beloved of their dams! How blest were I if thou would’st prove me. Diphenia, like the spreading roses. That in thy sweet. 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. Diaphenia, like to all things blessed. When all thy praises are expressed. 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.
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Hymn Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair. Now the sun is laid to sleep. Seated in thy silver chair. State in wonted manner keep. Hesperus, entreats thy light, Thy light, Goddess excellently bright. Earth, let not thy envious shade. Dare itself to interpose. Cynthia’s shining orb was made. Heaven to clear when day did close. Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess, Goddess excellently bright. Lay thy bow of pearl apart. And thy crystal shining quiver. Give unto the flying hart. Space to breathe, how short so ever: Thou that mak’st a day of night. Goddess, Goddess excellently bright!
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Works Cited Encyclopedaedia Britannica authors. “Cécile Chaminade.” Encyclopaedia Britannica, Encyclopaedia Britannica, Inc., www.britannica.com/biography/Cecile-Chaminade. Encylopedaedia Britannica authors. “Gaetano Donizetti- Italian Opera Composer.” Enclyclopaedia Brittanica, Encyclopaideia Britannica, Inc., https://www.britannica.com/biography/Gaetano-Donizetti. English National Opera authors. “Gaetano Donizetti.” English National Opera, Arts Council England., https://eno.org/composers/gaetano-donizetti/. Hillinck, Robert. “The Rise and Fall of Cécile Chaminade- A Hopeless Romantic in a Time of Progress.” Listen Music and Culture, Listen Music and Culture., https://www.pcmsconcerts.org/composer/cecile-chaminade/. Kimball, Carol. Song: A Guide to Art Song Style and Literature. Lanham, Maryland, Rowman and Littlefield, 2006. Philadelphia Chamber Music Society authors. “Cécile Chaminade- Classical Music Series.” Philadelphia Chamber Music Society- A Life More Beautiful, Philadelphia Chamber Music Society., https://www.pcmsconcerts.org/composer/cecile-chaminade/.
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