guitar
chamber music
b enja m i n v e r d e r y, di r e c t o r 路 de c e mbe r 1 4, 2 01 1
music by Francisco Acosta Wenzel Thomas Matiegka Frank Martin Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco Matilde Salvador
Robert Blocker, Dean
gu i ta r c h am b e r m u s i c · de c e m b e r 1 4, 2 01 1
guitar
chamber music Benjamin Verdery, director
Juan F. Acosta 1890–1968
Así es la vida Ojos de ensúeño Steffen Besser ’12 mm, guitar Hermelindo Ruiz ’12 mm, guitar
Wenzeslaus Matiegka 1773–1833
Serenade Concertante, Op. 22, No. 2 I. Adagio Tammy Wang ’12 mm, violin Alexander Milovanov ’13 mm, guitar
Matilde Salvador 1918–2007
Endechas y Cantares de Sefarad Avridme, galancia A la una Endecha Yo me levanti un lunes Cantar de marinero Jessica Petrus ’12 mm, soprano Arash Noori ’12 mm, guitar
gu i ta r c h am b e r m u s i c · de c e m b e r 1 4, 2 01 1
As a courtesy to others, please silence all cell phones and devices. Photography of any kind is strictly prohibited. Please do not leave the hall during musical selections. Thank you.
Frank Martin 1890–1974
Poèmes de la Mort I. Mort saisit sans exception II. Mort, j’appelle de ta rigueur III. Ballade des Pendus Steven Soph ’12 mm, tenor Daniel Moore ’12 mm, baritone John Taylor Ward ’12 mm, bass Trevor Babb ’12 mm, guitar Graham Banfield ’12 mm, guitar Alan Kulka ’12 mm, guitar brief intermission
Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco 1895–1968
Guitar Quintet, Op. 143 I. Allegro vivo schietto II. Andante mesto III. Scherzo. Allegro con spirito, alla Marcia IV. Finale. Allegro con fuoco David Radzynski ’12 mm, violin Christian Kim ’13 mm, violin Victor Fournelle-Blain ’13 mm, viola Weipeng Liu ’12 ad, cello Marco Sartor ’13 ad, guitar
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Poèmes de la Mort Music by Frank Martin Texts by François Villon
Poems on Death trans. Trevor Babb
I. Mort saisit sans exception Je connais que pauvres et riches, Sages et fols, prêtres et lais, Nobles, vilains, larges et chicher, Petits et grands, et beaux et laids, Dames à rebrassés collets, De quelconque condition, Portants atours et bourrolets, Mort saisit sans exception. Et meure Pâris et Hélène. Quiconque meurt, meurt à douleur, Telle qu’il perd vent et haleine; Son fiel se crève sur son coeur. Et sue, Dieu sait quelle sueur! Et n’est qui de ses maux l’allège. Car enfant n’a, frére ne soeur qui lors voulsît être son pleige. La mort fait frémir, pâlir, Le nez courber, les veins tendre Le col enfler, la chair mollir, Jointes, et nerfs crôitre et étendre. Corps féminin, qui tant es tendre, Poli, souef, si précieux: Te faudra-t-il ces maux attendre? Oui, ou tout vif aller ès cieux.
I. Death takes hold with no exception I have known that poor and rich, Wise men and fools, priests and laymen, Nobility, serfs, benefactors and misers, Young and old, beautiful and ugly, Dames with bunched-up collars, Of high condition, Wearing finery and paddings, Death makes no exception. And Paris and Helen die. Anyone who dies, dies in pain, Such that he loses wind and breath; His gall bursts on his heart And he sweats, God knows how much! And there is no one to reduce his pain. For neither child, brother or sister would want to be his replacement. Death makes one shudder and grow pale, The nose curves, veins tighten The neck swells, flesh softens, Joints and nerves grow and expand. Feminine body, so tender, Smooth, sweet and so precious: Must you wait for this pain? Yes, or everything alive will go to heaven.
II. Mort, j’appelle de ta rigueur Mort! Mort, j’appelle de ta rigueur Qui m’as ma maîtres se ravie Et n’est pas encore assouvie Si tu ne me tiens en langueur Onc puis n’eus force ne vigueur Mais que te nuisait elle en vie, Mort! Deux étions, et n’avions qu’un coeur; S’il est mort, force est que dévie, Voire, ou que je vive sans vie, Comme les images, par coeur, Mort!
II. Death, I call out to your harshness Death, I call out to your harshness That my mistress would be pleased And is not yet satisfied If you do not hold me in languor So then has not force nor vigor. But how she was harming you in life, Death! We were two, and we had but one heart; If he is dead, force deflects, Verily, or that I live without life, Like images, by heart, Death!
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III. Ballade des pendus Frères humains, qui après nous vivez, N’ayez les coeurs contre nous endurcis, Car, si pitié de nous pauvres avez, Dieu en aura plus tôt de vous mercis. Vous nous voyez ci attachés, cinq, six: Quant à la chair, que trop avons nourrie, Elle est piéça dévorée et pourrie, Et nous, les os, devenons cendre et poudre. De notre mal personne ne s’en rie; Mais priez Dieu que tous nous veuille absoudre! Si vous clamons frères, pas n’en devez Avoir dédain, quoique fûmes occis Par justice. Toutefois, vous savez Que tous hommes n’ont pas bon sens assis. Excusez-nous, puisque sommes transis, Envers le fils de la Vierge Marie, Que sa grâce ne soit pour nous tarie, Nous préservant de l’infernale foudre. Nous sommes morts, âme ne nous harie, Mais priez Dieu que tous nous veuille absoudre! La pluie nous a bués et lavés, Et le soleil desséchés et noircis. Pies, corbeaux nous ont les yeux cavés, Et arraché la barbe et les sourcils. Jamais nul temps nous ne sommes assis Puis çà, puis là, comme le vent varie, A son plaisir sans cesser nous charrie, Plus becquetés d’oiseaux que dés à coudre. Ne soyez donc de notre confrérie; Mais priez Dieu que tous nous veuille absoudre! Prince Jésus, qui sur tous a maistrie, Garde qu’Enfer n’ait de nous seigneurie: A lui n’ayons que faire ne que soudre. Hommes, ici n’a point de moquerie; Mais priez Dieu que tous nous veuille absoudre!
III. Ballade of the Hangmen Brothers, who live after us, Do not harden your hearts against us, For, if you have mercy on us poor men, God will have mercy on you soon, You see us attached here, five, six: As for the flesh we’ve nourished too well, It has long since been devoured and rotten And we, the bones, become ash and powder. No one laughs at our ills; But pray that God may wish to absolve us of everything! If we call you brothers, for it you must not Have disdain, although you were slain By justice. However, you know That all men don’t have sound mind. Excuse us, since we’ve passed away, Toward the son of the Virgin Mary, So that his grace would not dry up, Protecting us from the infernal wrath. We are dead, let no soul trouble us But pray that God may wish to absolve us of everything! The rain has drained and washed us, And the sun has shriveled and blackened us. Magpies and crows have gouged out our eyes, And plucked out our beards and eyebrows. Never for a moment may we rest, Swaying in the changing wind, Teasing us endlessly by its whim, The birds have pecked us more than a thimble. Do not join our brotherhood; But pray that God may wish to absolve us of everything! Prince Jesus, master over all, Keep the lordship of Hell away from us: We’ve nothing to do or trade with him; Men, there is no mockery here, But pray that God may wish to absolve us of everything.
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Endechas y Cantares de Sefarad Music and text by Matilde Salvador Avridme Galanica Avridme, Galanica Que ya va’manecer. Avrir ya vos avro Mi lindo amor. Esta noche no duermo Pensando en vos. Mi padres está meldando Nos sienterá. Amatalde la candelica, Ansí se dormirá. Amatalde la candelica Ansí se echará. Mi madre está cuziendo, Nos sienterá Pedrelde la alguijica, Ansí se dormirá. Pedrelde la alguijica Ansí se echará. Mi hermana está escriviendo, Nos sienterá. Pedrelde la pendolica, Ansi se dormirá. Pedrelde la pendolica Ansí se echará.
Open the Door Open the door It is going to be dawn already. Open to you I already open My beautiful love, Tonight I can’t sleep Thinking of thee. My father is meditating He will hear us. Blow out the little candle That way he will fall asleep. Blow out the little candle That way he’ll lie down. My mother is sewing She’ll hear us Lose her little needle That way she’ll fall asleep. Lose her little needle That way she’ll lie down. My sister is writing She will hear us. Lose her little pen That way she’ll fall asleep Lose her little pen That way she’ll lie down.
A La Una A la una yo nasí A las dos m’engrandesí, A last res tomí amante A las cuatro me casí. Dime niña, dónde vienes, Que te quiero conocer. Dime si tienes amante, Que yo te no he de prender. Yéndome para la guerra Dos besos al aire di; El uno es para mi madre Y el otro es para ti.
At One At one, I was born At two, I grew up At three I took a lover At four, I married. Tell me, where do you come? I want to know you. Tell me if you have a lover I will defend you as mine. Going off to war I throw kisses into the air. One is for my mother The other is for you.
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Endecha Para qué quiero Yo más bivir En este mundo! Mejor es morir, Mas qué sufrir. Dolores de amor Vengo a sufrir. Yo te amo de coraçón Ma no te puedo alcançar.
Mourning What I want is to live In this world. Better to die Rather than suffer. Sorrows of love I come to suffer. I love you with all my heart But I cannot win yours.
Yo me Levanti un Lunes Un lunes antes de albar; Cogi mi bacio en mano Y a la mar me fui a lavar. Y al sol, y al sol de la hierba Yo me iré a dormir. Yo me encontrí a un morenito Que de mi quiso burlar, Yo le di un entrepecho Y a la mar lo echí a nadar. Mi Corazon se amanzía De ver a un hombre ahogar, Le tiré los mis trenzados Y lo saqué de la mar.
I woke up one Monday A Monday before dawn I took my bowl in hand And went to the sea to wash. And the sun, the sun, on the grass I’ll go to sleep. I met a Moor Who wanted to mock me, I refused him And to the sea I threw him to swim. My heart was anguished To see a man drown, I threw him my braids And took him out of the sea.
Cantar de Marinero En la mar hay una torre. En la torre hay una ventana. En la ventana hay una hija Que a los marineros ama. Dame le mano, tú al moy Para suvir al tu nido. Maldicha que durmes sola. Vengo a durmir contigo. Si la mer era de leche Yo me haría un pescador. Pescaría los mis Dolores Con palavricas d’amor. No t’apares tú al moy Que’n el moy no hay que ver. Una barquita’l moy aviya Travo la vela y se fue.
Sailor Song In the sea there is a tower. In the tower there is a window. In the window there is a daughter Who loves the sailors. Give me your hand, you dove, To climb to your nest. Unfortunate who sleeps alone I come to sleep with you. If the sea was made of milk I would become a fisherman. I would fish my sorrows With little words of love. Don’t you stop at the pier At the pier there’s nothing to see. A small boat arrives at the pier It took down its sail and was gone.
t e x t s uan dm t ran on p co i n g selvat e ni t s
Mingzhe Wang, clarinet
Wen-Yin Chan, piano
december 15
january 12
Morse Recital Hall | Thursday | 8 pm Doctor of Musical Arts Recital Mozart: Sonata in B-flat major, K. 454 Gade: Fantasy Pieces, Op. 23 Chen Yi: Chinese Ancient Dances · Elliott Carter: Leggerezza Pensosa · Brahms: Sonata in E-flat major, Op. 120, No. 2. Free admission.
Morse Recital Hall | Thursday | 8 pm Doctor of Musical Arts Recital Free admission.
Yale Philharmonia january 13 Woolsey Hall | Friday | 8 pm Peter Oundjian guest conducts Bruckner’s Symphony No. 3 in D minor and other works. Free admission.
Tokyo String Quartet january 10 Morse Recital Hall | Tuesday | 8 pm Oneppo Chamber Music Series Haydn: Quartet in G major, Op. 64, No. 4; Bartók: Quartet No. 3; and Dvorák: Quartet in G major, Op. 106. Tickets $25–$35, Students $15.
Martin Suckling, composer january 19 Morse Recital Hall | Thursday | 8 pm Doctor of Musical Arts Recital Free admission.
Concerts & Public Relations: Dana Astmann, Danielle Heller, Dashon Burton New Media: Monica Ong Reed, Austin Kase Operations: Tara Deming, Chris Melillo Piano Curators: Brian Daley, William Harold Recording Studio: Eugene Kimball P.O. Box 208236, New Haven, CT · 203 432-4158
Robert Blocker, Dean
music.yale.edu