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The Sixth Annual Art Song Contest
You can now hear each Winner in one selection or hear the Great Songs program of excerpts from the recital.
Lotus Walker, piano; Amber Naramore, soprano; Pat Mason, tenor; Gary Hickling, MC; Vania Jerome, soprano; Cody Gillette, piano; Jim Price, tenor; and Beebe Freitas, piano.
Vania Lee Jerome, Soprano
Cody Gillette, Piano
Ah, Love but a day
Text by Robert Browning (1812-1889)
Set by Amy Marcy Cheney Beach (1867-1944)
Ah, Love, but a day,
And the world has changed!
The sun's away,
And the bird estranged;
The wind has dropped,
And the sky's deranged;
Summer has stopped.
Ah, Love, but a day,
And the world has changed!
Look in my eyes!
Wilt thou change too?
Should I fear surprise?
Shall I find aught new
In the old and dear,
In the good and true,
With the changing year?
Ah, Love, look in my eyes,
Wilt thou change too?
Now have I fed and eaten up the rose
Text by James Joyce (1882-1941)
Set by Samuel Barber (1910-1981)
Now have I fed and eaten up the rose
Which then she laid within my stiffcold hand.
That I should ever feed upon a rose
I never had believed in liveman’s land.
Only I wonder was it white or red
The flower that in the darkness my food has been.
Give us, and if Thou give, thy daily bread,
Deliver us from evil, Lord, Amen.
A green lowland of pianos
Text by Czeslaw Milosz, after the Polish of Jerzy Harasymowicz
Set by Samuel Barber
in the evening
as far as the eye can see
herds
of black pianos
up to their knees
in the mire
they listen to the frogs
they gurgle in water
with chords of rapture
they are entranced
by froggish, moonish spontaneity
after the vacation
they cause scandals
in a concert hall
during the artistic milking
suddenly they lie down
like cows
looking with indifference
at the white flowers
of the audience
at the gesticulating
of the ushers
O boundless, boundless evening
Text by Christopher Middleton, after the German of Georg Heym
Set by Samuel Barber
O boundless, boundless evening. Soon the glow
Of long hills on the skyline will be gone,
Like clear dream country now, rich-hued by sun.
O boundless evening where the cornfields throw
The scattered daylight back in an aureole.
Swallows high up are singing, very small.
On every meadow glitters their swift flight,
In woods of rushes and where tall masts stand
In brilliant bays. Yet in ravines beyond
Between the hills already nests the night.
Secrets of the Old
Text by W.B. Yeats (1865-1939).
Set by Samuel Barber
I have old women’s secrets now
That had those of the young;
Madge tells me that I dared not think
When my blood was strong,
And what had drowned a lover once
Sounds like an old song.
Though Margery is stricken dumb
If thrown in Madge’s way,
We three make up a solitude;
For none alive today
Can know the stories that we know
Or say the things we say:
How such a man pleased women most
Of all that are gone,
How such a pair loved many years
And such a pair but one,
Stories of the bed of straw
Or the bed of down.
Patrick Mason, Tenor
Beebe Freitas, Piano
Per la gloria d'adorarvi (For the glory of adoring you)
Text by Anonymous
Set by Giovanni Battista Bononcini (1670-1747)
Per la gloria d'adorarvi For the glory of adoring you
Voglio amarvi, o luci care. I want to love you, o dear eyes.
Amando penero, Loving I will suffer
Ma sempre v'amerò, But I will always love you,
Sì, sì, nel mio penare, Yes, in my suffering
Senza speme di diletto Without hope of pleasure
Vano affetto è sospirare, Vain affection it is to sigh,
Ma i vostri dolci rai But your sweet glances
Chi vagheggiar può mai Who can ever admire [them]
E non, e non v'amare? And not love you?
Mai (May)
Text by Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
Set by Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924)
Puisque mai tout en fleurs dans les prés nous réclame, Since May, all a-bloom, invites us to the meadows
Viens! ne te lasse pas de mêler à ton âme Come! never tire of mingling with your soul
La campagne, les bois, les ombrages charmants, The countryside, the woods, the charming shady places,
Les larges clairs de lune au bord des flots dormants, The wide bands of moonlight on the bank of the sleeping waters,
Le sentier qui finit où le chemin commence, The path that ends where the road begins,
Et l'air, et le printemps et l'horizon immense, And the air, and Spring and the boundless horizon,
L'horizon que ce monde attache humble et joyeux The horizon that this world fastens, humble and joyous
Comme une lèvre au bas de la robe des cieux! Like a lip at the hem of the sky’s gown!
Viens! et que le regard des pudiques étoiles Come! and let the gaze of the modest stars
Qui tombe sur la terre à travers tant de voiles, Falling upon the earth through so many veils,
Que l'arbre pénétré de parfums et de chants, Let the tree filled with fragrances and singing,
Que le souffle embrasé de midi dans les champs, Let the fiery breath of noon in the fields,
Et l'ombre et le soleil, et l'onde, et la verdure, And the shade and the sun, and water and greenery,
Et le rayonnement de toute la nature And the radiance of all of nature
Fassent épanouir, comme une double fleur, Let all these cause to blossom, like a double flower,
La beauté sur ton front et l'amour dans ton cœur! Beauty on your brow and love in your heart!
Chanson d'amour (Song of Love)
Text by Armand Silvestre (1837-1901)
Set by Gabriel Fauré
J'aime tes yeux, j'aime ton front, I love your eyes, I love your forehead,
Ô ma rebelle, ô ma farouche, Oh my rebellious and fierce one.
J'aime tex yeux, j'aime ta bouche I love your eyes, I love your mouth
Où mes baisers s'épuiseront. On which my kisses will exhaust themselves.
J'aime ta voix, j'aime l'étrange I love your voice, I love the strange
Grâce de tout ce que tu dis, Gracefulness of everything you say,
Ô ma rebelle, ô mon cher ange, Oh my rebellious one, my dear angel,
Mon enfer et mon paradis! My hell and my paradise!
J'aime tout ce qui te fait belle, I love all that makes you beautiful,
De tes pieds jusqu'à tes cheveux, From your feet to your hair,
Ô toi vres qui montent mes voeux, Oh you to whom my hopeful pleas ascend,
Ô ma farouche, ô ma rebelle! Oh, my crazy one, oh my rebel!
From far, from eve and morning
Text by Alfred Edward Housman (1859-1936)
Set by Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958)
From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither: here am I.
Now - for a breath I tarry
Nor yet disperse apart -
Take my hand quick and tell me,
What have you in your heart.
Speak now, and I will answer;
How shall I help you, say;
Ere to the wind's twelve quarters
I take my endless way.
Linden Lea
Text by William Barnes (1801-1886)
Set by Ralph Vaughan Williams
Within the woodlands, flow'ry gladed,
By the oak trees' mossy moot,
The shining grass blades, timber-shaded,
Now do quiver underfoot;
And birds do whistle overhead,
And water's bubbling in its bed;
And there, for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
When leaves, that lately were a-springing,
Now do fade within the copse,
And painted birds do hush their singing,
Up upon the timber tops;
And brown-leaved fruits a-turning red,
In cloudless sunshine overhead,
With fruit for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
Let other folk make money faster
In the air of dark-roomed towns;
I don't dread a peevish master,
Though no man may heed my frowns.
I be free to go abroad,
Or take again my homeward road
To where, for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
O del mio amato ben (Oh, lost enchantment of my dearly beloved)
Text by Anonymous
Set by Stefano Donaudy (1879-1925)
O del mio amato ben perduto incanto! Oh, lost enchantment of my dearly beloved!
Lungi è dagli occhi miei Far from my eyes is he
chi m'era gloria e vanto! who was, to me, glory and pride!
Or per le mute stanze Now through the empty rooms
sempre lo cerco e chiamo I always seek him and call him
con pieno il cor di speranze? with a heart full of hopes?
Ma cerco invan, chiamo invan! But I seek in vain, I call in vain!
E il pianger m'è sì caro, And the weeping is so dear to me,
che di pianto sol nutro il cor. that with weeping alone I nourish my heart.
Mi sembra, senza lui, triste ogni loco. It seems to me, without him, sad everywhere.
Notte mi sembra il giorno; The day seems like night to me;
mi sembra gelo il foco. the fire seems cold to me.
Se pur talvolta spero If, however, I sometimes hope
di darmi ad altra cura, to give myself to another cure,
sol mi tormenta un pensiero: one thought alone torments me:
Ma, senza lui, che farò? But without him, what shall I do?
Mi par così la vita vana cosa To me, life seems a vain thing
senza il mio ben. without my beloved.
Amber Naramore, Soprano
Lotus Walker, Piano
Si mes vers avaient des ailes (If my verses had wings)
Text by Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
Set by Reynaldo Hahn (1875-1947)
Mes vers fuiraient, doux at freles, My verses would flee, sweet and frail,
Vers votre jardin si beau To your garden so beautiful,
Si mes vers avaient des ailes If my verses had wings
Comme l'oiseau! Like the bird!
Ils voleraient, etencilles, They would fly, glittering,
Vers votre foyer qui rit, To your cheerful fireside,
Si mes vers avaient des ailes If my verses had wings
Comme l'esprit! Like the mind!
Pres de vous, purs et fideles, To you, pure and faithful,
Ils accouraient, nuit et jour, They would hasten, night and day,
Si mes vers avaient des ailes, If my verses had wings
Comme l'amour! Like love!
I Never Knew
Text by Lotte Lehmann (1888-1976); translated by Judith Sutcliffe
Set by Ned Rorem for CyberSing 2002
I never knew how much loveliness lives
In the bare and leafless trees,
Nor that gold and silver lovingly weave themselves
Into bronze webbing in which buds dream
of coming, spring-drunk exuberance;
I never knew these best gifts strewn before us,
I never had time, could never rest,
Was always driven like a hunted animal.
But now the hunter is my quarry.
I've caught what hunted me, Time - and today
Upon its wings it has renewed my world.
Nacht und Träume (Night and Dreams)
Text by Matthäus von Collin (1779-1824)
Set by Franz Schubert (1797-1828)
Heil'ge Nacht, du sinkest nieder; Holy night, you sink down
nieder wallen auch die Traume Down float also the dreams
wie dein Mondlicht durch die Raume, Like your moonlight through space,
durch der Menschen stille Brust. Through the quiet hearts of human beings.
Die belauschen sie mit Lust, They listen with joy,
rufen, wenn der Tag erwacht: They cry out when day awakes:
kehre wieder heil'ge Nacht! Come back, holy night!
Holde Traume, kehret wieder!Lovely dreams, come back!
Les Berceaux (The Vessels)
Text by René-François Sully-Prudhomme (1839-1907)
Set by Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924)
Le long du quai, les grands vaisseaux, Along the quays, the large ships,
Que la houle incline en silence, Rocked silently by the surge,
Ne prennent pas garde aux berceaux Do not heed the cradles
Que la main des femmes balance, Which the hands of the women rock,
Mais viendra le jour des adieux, But the day of farewells will come,
Car il faut que le femmes pleurent, For the women are bound to weep,
Et que les hommes curieux And the inquisitive men
Tentent les horizons qui leurrent! Must dare the horizons that lure them!
Et ce jour-la les grands vaisseaux, And on that day the large ships,
Fuyant le port qui diminue, Fleeing from the vanishing port,
Sentent leurs masse retenue Feel their bulk held back
Par l'ame des lointains berceaux. By the soul of the faraway cradles.
Love's Lament
Text by Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830-1894)
Set by Michael Head (1900-1976)
Why were you born when the snow was falling?
You should have come to the cuckoo's calling,
Or when grapes are green in the cluster,
Or, at least, when lithe swallows muster
For their far off flying
From summer dying.
Why did you die when the lambs were cropping?
You should have died at the apple's dropping,
When the grasshopper comes to trouble,
And the wheat-fields are sodden stubble,
And all winds go sighing...
For sweet things dying,
Why?
Jim Price, Tenor
Beebe Freitas, Piano
When I think upon the Maidens
Text by Philip Ashbrooke
Set by Michael Head (1900-1976)
When I think upon the maidens,
Whom I've sworn to love for aye,
Cynthia, Doris, and her cousin,
There are still another dozen.
Ah, debts my heart can never pay.
Do they scorn me now I wonder,
Did they take it as a game?
Flora, Olive, and the others,
how I hated all there brothers!
Fickle Cupid, you're to blame!
Years have passed and yet I'm single,
Torn, and undecided still,
Clara, Mabel, what a vision!
I can't come to a decision,
And I hope I never will.
Blue Mountain Ballads
Text by Tennessee Williams (1911-1983)
Set by Paul Bowles (1910-1999)
Heavenly Grass
My feet took a walk
In heavenly grass
All day while the sky shone clear as glass,
My feet took a walk
In heavenly grass.
All night while the lonesome stars rolled past,
Then my feet come down to walk on earth
And my mother cried
When she gave me birth.
Now my feet walk far
And my feet walk fast,
But they still got an itch for heavenly grass.
Lonesome Man
My chair rock-rocks by the door all day
But nobody stops my way,
Nobody ever stops by my way.
My teef chaw-chaw on an old ham bone an’ I do the dishes all alone,
I do the dishes all by my lone.
Me feet clop-clop on the hardwood floor ‘cause I won’t buy love at the hard-ware store,
I don’t want love from the mercantile store.
Now the clock tick-tocks by my single bed...while the moon looks down at my sleepless head,
While the moon grins down at an ole fool’s head.
Cabin
The cabin was cozy
And holly-hocks grew
Bright by the door
Till his whisper crept through.
The sun on the sill
Was yellow and warm
Till she lifted the latch
For a man or a storm.
Now the cabin falls
To the winter wind
And the walls cave in
Where they kissed and sinned.
And the long white rain
Sweeps clean the room
Like a white-haired witch
With a long straw broom!
Sugar in the Cane
I’m red pepper in a shaker,
Bread that’s waitin’ for the baker.
I’m sweet sugar in the cane,
Never touched except by rain.
If you touched me God save you,
These summer days are hot and blue.
I’m potatoes not yet mashed,
I’m a check that ain’t been cashed.
I’m a window with a blind,
Can’t see what goes on behind.
If you did, God save your soul!
These winter nights are blue and cold!
Song of Black Max (As Told by the de Kooning Boys)
Text by Arnold Weinstein (1940- )
Set by William Bolcom (1938- )
He was always dressed in black, long black jacket, broad black hat, sometimes a cape, and as thin, and as thin as rubber tape: Black Max.
He would raise that big black hat to the bigshots of the town who raised their hats right back, never knew they were bowing to Black Max.
I'm talking about night in Rotterdam when the right night people of all the town would find what they could in the night neighborhood of Black Max.
There were women in the windows with bodies for sale dressed in curls like little girls in little dollhouse jails. When the women walked the street with their beds upon their backs, who was lifting up his brim to them? Black Max!
And there were looks for sale, the art of the smile, only certain people walked that mystery mile: artists, charlatans, vaudevillians, men of mathematics, acrobatics and civilians. There was knitting-needle music from a lady organ grinder with all her sons behind her, Marco, Vito, Benno (Was he strong! though he walked like a woman) and Carlo, who was five. He must be still alive!
Ah, poor Marco had the syph, and if you didn't take the terrible cure those days you went crazy and died and he did. And at the coffin before they closed the lid, who raises his lid? Black Max.
I was riding on the train one day going far away to the good old U.S.A. when I heard some music underneath the tracks. Standing there beneath the bridge, long black jacket, broad black hat, playing the harmonica one hand free to lift that hat to me: Black Max, Black Max, Black Max.
When I have Sung my Songs to You
Text and Music by Ernest Charles (1895-1984)
When I have sung my songs to you,
I’ll sing no more.
‘T would be a sacrilege to sing
At another door.
We’ve worked so hard to hold our dreams,
Just you and I.
I could not share them all again- I’d rather die
With just the thought that I had loved so well, so true,
That I could never sing again,
Except to you.
Wilt thou change too?
The judges for the Sixth Annual Art Song Contest were: Janet & Ian Cooke, Susan & Bryan Dupré, Beebe Freitas, Dale Hall, Gary Hickling, Dale Noble, Dennis Moore, Eric Schank and Louise & William South. Mahalo to you all!
The Annual Art Song Contest began in 1997 and continues to succeed thanks to the good work of the judges, the Lotte Lehmann Foundation Board of Directors and the staff of Hawaii Public Radio.
The contest will be held again in the Spring of 2003. All but previous winners are welcome to enter their performance of an art song. We have been given a grant from the Orvis Foundation to record singers on the Neighbor Islands and Oahu singers can record at HPR on designated days in May 2003.
The recordings are judged on vocal proficiency, expressive ability and language/diction skills. The semi-finalists are heard on Great Songs in July; the winners share a September recital that is broadcast in December. For further information contact HPR at 955-8821.
If you enjoy art song, please tune in to Great Songs, Sundays at 7:00 PM on KHPR, KKUA and KANO, where you’ll hear German Lieder, French mélodie, American and English art song and other classical songs from around the world. The program also features interviews with major figures in the classical song world; this year’s artists include Judith Kellock, soprano; Mary Dibbern, vocal coach/pianist; Stephen Salters, baritone; Dana Hanchard, soprano.
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