Olivia Martinez, horn, May 6, 2021

Robert Blocker, Dean May 6, 2021 7:30 pm | Sudler Recital Hall in Harkness Hall

master of music degree recital

Olivia Martinez horn

Adam Wolf b. 1986

Heroine: an anthem for low horn and piano (2019) Nenad Ivovic, piano

Vitaly Bujanovsky 1928–1993

Sonata für Horn-Solo (1974)

Florence Price 1887–1953

Selections from 44 Art Songs and Spirituals The Glory of the Day Was In Her Face Resignation Songs to the Dark Virgin (1941) The Poet and His Song Nenad Ivovic, piano intermission

Lowell Greer b. 1950

Het Valkhof (1991) I. Prelude II. Frederick Barbarosa

Billy Strayhorn 1915–1967 ed. Walter van der Leur

Suite for horn and piano (1966) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Benjamin Beckman, piano

This performance is in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the master of music degree.

James Weldon Johnson Florence Price Langston Hughes Paul Laurence Dunbar

The Glory of the Day was in Her Face Words by James Weldon Johnson (1871-1938) The glory of the day was in her face, The beauty of the night was in her eyes.

And over all her loveliness, the grace Of Morning blushing in the early skies.

And in her voice, the calling of the dove; Like music of a sweet, melodious part.

And in her smile, the breaking light of love; And all the gentle virtues in her heart.

And now the glorious day, the beauteous night, The birds that signal to their mates at dawn, To my dull ears, to my tear-blinded sight Are one with all the dead, since she is gone.

Resignation Words by Florence Price My life is a pathway of sorrow; I’ve struggled and toiled in the sun with hope that the dawn of tomorrow would break on a work that is done.

My Master has pointed the way, he taught me in prayer to say: “Lord, give us this day and our daily bread.”

I hunger, yet I shall be fed.

My feet, they are wounded and dragging; My body is tortured with pain; My heart, it is shattered and flagging, What matter, if, Heaven I gain.

Of happiness once I have tasted; ‘Twas only an instant it paused tho’ brief was the hour that I wasted For ever the woe that it caused I’m tired and want to go home.

My mother and sister are there; They’re waiting for me to come Where mansions are bright and fair.

Songs to the Dark Virgin (1941) Words by Langston Hughes (1926) I. Would That I were a jewel, A shattered jewel, That all my shining brilliants Might fall at thy feet, Thou dark one.

II. Would That I were a garment, A shimmering, silken garment, That all my folds Might wrap about thy body, Absorb thy body, Hold and hide thy body, Thou dark one.

III. Would That I were a flame, But one sharp, leaping flame To annihilate thy body, Thou dark one.

The Poet and His Song Words by Paul Laurence Dunbar (1913) A song is but a little thing, And yet what joy it is to sing!

In hours of toil it gives me zest, And when at eve I long for rest; When cows come home along the bars, And in the fold I hear the bell, As Night, the shepherd, herds his stars, I sing my song, and all is well.

There are no ears to hear my lays, No lips to lift a word of praise; But still, with faith unfaltering, I live and laugh and love and sing.

What matters yon unheeding throng?

They cannot feel my spirit’s spell, Since life is sweet and love is long, I sing my song, and all is well.

My days are never days of ease; I till my ground and prune my trees.

When ripened gold is all the plain, I put my sickle to the grain.

I labor hard, and toil and sweat, While others dream within the dell; But even while my brow is wet, I sing my song, and all is well.

Sometimes the sun, unkindly hot, My garden makes a desert spot; Sometimes a blight upon the tree Takes all my fruit away from me; And then with throes of bitter pain Rebellious passions rise and swell; But—life is more than fruit or grain, And so I sing, and all is well.