Friday, April 22, 2011

Listening 7





Chanson Perpétuelle, by Ernest Chausson, text by Charles Cros


Text:
Bois frissonnants, ciel étoilé
Mon bien-aimé s'en est allé
Emportant mon coeur désolé.

Vents, que vos plaintives rumeurs,
Que vos chants, rossignols charmeurs,
Aillent lui dire que je meurs.

Le premier soir qu'il vint ici,
Mon âme fut à sa merci;
De fierté je n'eus plus souci.

Mes regards étaient pleins d'aveux.
Il me prit dans ses bras nerveux
Et me baisa près des cheveux.

J'en eus un grand frémissement.
Et puis je ne sais comment
Il est devenu mon amant.

Je lui disais: "Tu m'aimeras
Aussi longtemps que tu pourras."
Je ne dormais bien qu'en ses bras. 

Mais lui, sentant son coeur éteint,
S'en est allé l'autre matin
Sans moi, dans un pays lointain.

Puisque je n'ai plus mon ami,
Je mourrai dans l'étang, parmi
Les fleurs sous le flot endormi.

Sur le bord arrivée, au vent
Je dirai son nom, en rêvant
Que là je l'attendis souvent.

Et comme en un linceul doré,
Dans mes cheveux défaits, au gré
Du vent je m'abandonnerai.

Les bonheurs passés verseront
Leur douce lueur sur mon front,
Et les joncs verts m'enlaceront.

Et mon sein croira, frémissant
Sous l'enlacement caressant,
 Subir l'étreinte de l'absent.
(English poetic translation)
Trembling trees, starry sky
 My beloved has gone away
 Bearing with him my desolate heart. 
 
 Winds, let your plaintive noises
 Let your songs, charming nightingales,
 Tell him that I die. 
 
 The first night he came here,
 My soul was at his mercy;
 I no longer cared about my pride. 
 
 My glances were full of promise. 
 He took me into his trembling arms
 And kissed me near the hair. 
 
 I felt a great quivering. 
 And then, I don't know how
 He became my lover. 
 
 I said to him: "You will love me 
 As long as you are able." 
 I never slept as well as in his arms. 
 
 But he, feeling his heart fade,
 Left the other day
 Without me, for a foreign land. 
 
 Since I no longer have my friend,
 I will die in this pool, among
 The flowers under the sleeping current. 
 
 Arriving on the shoreline,
 I will speak his name to the wind,
 In a dream that I await him there. 
 
 And like in a gilded shroud
 With hair tousled at the wind's whim,
 I will let myself go. 
 
 The happy hours of the past 
 will glimmer on my face,
 And the green reeds will entrap me. 
 
 And my breast, shuddering under the caress
  of their entwinement, 
 will believe it submits to the embrace of the one who left.

Listening 6


Sung by Mireille Delunsch
Un grand sommeil noir, text by Paul Verlaine, composed by Edgard Varèse, sung by Mireille Delunsch
Un grand sommeil noir
Tombe sur ma vie:
Dormez, tout espoir,
Dormez, toute envie!

Je ne vois plus rien,
Je perds la mémoire
Du mal et du bien...
O la triste histoire!

Je suis un berceau
Qu'une main balance
Au creux d'un caveau:
Silence, silence!
(English poetic translation)
A long black sleep
Descends upon my life:
Sleep, all hope,
Sleep, all desire!

I can no longer see anything,
I am losing my remembrance
Of the bad and the good . . .
Oh, the sad story!

I am a cradle
That is rocked by a hand
In the depth of a vault.
Silence, silence!

Monday, April 18, 2011

Listening 5

 

Henri Duparc (1848-1933)

Duparc was born in Paris. He studied piano with César Franck at the Jesuit College in the Vaugirard district and became one of his first composition pupils. Following military service in the Franco-Prussian War, he married Ellen MacSwinney, from Scotland, on November 9, 1871. In the same year, he joined with Saint-Saëns and Romain Bussine to found the Société Nationale de Musique Moderne.

Duparc is best known for his seventeen mélodies ("art songs") with texts by poets such as Baudelaire, Gautier, Leconte de Lisle, and Goethe. These pieces are considered by many to be among the greatest compositions by any composer in this form.

A mental illness, called "neurasthenia", caused him to abruptly cease composing at age 37, in 1885. He devoted himself to his family and his other passions, drawing and painting. However, he began losing his vision after the turn of the century, which eventually led to complete blindness. He destroyed most of his music, leaving fewer than 40 works to posterity.

Soupir

French text by:

René François Armand (Sully) Prudhomme (1839 – 1907), see Listening #4 for more information about poet.

Soupir comes from Les solitudes, 1869.

Ne jamais la voir ni l'entendre,
Ne jamais tout haut la nommer,
Mais, fidèle, toujours l'attendre,
Toujours l'aimer!

Ouvrir les bras, et, las d'attendre,
Sur la néant les refermer!
Mais encor, toujours les lui tendre
Toujours l'aimer.

Ah! ne pouvoir que les lui tendre
Et dans les pleurs se consumer,
Mais ces pleurs toujours les répandre,
Toujours l'aimer...

Ne jamais la voir ni l'entendre,
Ne jamais tout haut la nommer,
Mais d'un amour toujours plus tendre
Toujours l'aimer. Toujours!
 Never to see or hear her,
never to name her aloud,
but faithfully always to wait for her
and love her.

To open my arms and, tired of waiting,
to close them on nothing,
but still always to stretch them out to her
and to love her.

To only be able to stretch them out to her,
and then to be consumed in tears,
but always to shed these tears,
always to love her.

Never to see or hear her,
never to name her aloud,
but with a love that grows ever more tender,
always to love her. Always!

Listening 4

Gabriel Fauré, Au bord le l’eau

 
French text by:

René François Armand (Sully) Prudhomme (1839 – 1907) was a French poet and essayist, winner of the first Nobel Prize in Literature, in 1901.

Born in Paris, Prudhomme originally studied to be an engineer, but turned to philosophy and later to poetry; he declared it as his intent to create scientific poetry for modern times. In character sincere and melancholic, he was linked to the Parnassus school, although, at the same time, his work displays characteristics of its own.

Au bord de l’eau comes from Les vaines tendresses, which he wrote in 1875.

S'asseoir tous deux au bord  flot qui passe,
Le voir passer ;
Tous deux, s'il glisse un nuage en l'espace,
Le voir glisser ;
À l'horizon, s'il fume un toit de chaume,
Le voir fumer ;
Aux alentours si quelque fleur embaume,
S'en embaumer ;
Si quelque fruit, où les abeilles goûtent,
Tente, y goûter ;
Si quelque oiseau, dans les bois qui l'écoutent,
Chante, écouter
Entendre au pied du saule où l'eau murmure
L'eau murmurer ;
Ne pas sentir, tant que ce rêve dure,
Le temps durer ;
Mais n'apportant de passion profonde
Qu'à s'adorer,
Sans nul souci des querelles du monde,
Les ignorer ;
Et seuls, heureux devant tout ce qui lasse,
Sans se lasser,
Sentir l'amour, devant tout ce qui passe,
Ne point passer!

 To sit together beside the passing stream
and watch it pass;
if a cloud glides by in the sky,
together to watch it glide;
if a thatched house sends up smoke on the horizon,
to watch it smoke;
if a flower spreads fragrance nearby,
to take on its fragrance;


under the willow where the water murmurs,
to listen to it murmuring;
for the time that this dream endures,
not to feel its duration;
but, having no deep passion
except adoration for one another,
without concern for the world's quarrels,
to ignore them;
and alone together, in the face of all wearying things,
unwearyingly,
to feel love (unlike all things that pass away)
not passing away!

Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924)
Music

Aaron Copland wrote that although Fauré's works can be divided into the usual three periods, there is no such radical difference between his first and last manners as is evident with many other composers. Copland found premonitions of Fauré's last manner in even his earliest works, and traces of the early Fauré in the works of his old age: "The themes, harmonies, form, have remained essentially the same, but with each new work they have all become more fresh, more personal, more profound."

Influences on Fauré, particularly in his early work, included Mozart, Chopin and Schumann. The authors of The Record Guide (1955) wrote that Fauré learnt restraint and beauty of surface from Mozart, tonal freedom and long melodic lines from Chopin, "and from Schumann, the sudden felicities in which his development sections abound, and those codas in which whole movements are briefly but magically illuminated." His work was based on the strong understanding of harmonic structures that he gained at the École Niedermeyer from Niedermeyer's successor Gustave Lefèvre. Lefèvre wrote the book Traité d'harmonie (Paris, 1889), in which he sets out a harmonic theory that differs significantly from the classical theory of Jean-Philippe Rameau, no longer outlawing certain chords as "dissonant".By using unresolved mild discords and colouristic effects, Fauré anticipated the techniques of Impressionist composers.

In contrast with his harmonic and melodic style, which pushed the bounds for his time, Fauré's rhythmic motives tended to be subtle and repetitive, with little to break the flow of the line, although he used discreet syncopations, similar to those found in Brahms's works.Copland referred to him as "the Brahms of France". Jerry Dubins posited in 2007 in Fanfare Magazine that Fauré is the "missing link" between Brahms and Debussy.

To Sackville-West and Shawe-Taylor, Fauré's later works do not display the easy charm of his earlier music: "the luscious romantic harmony which had always been firmly supported by a single tonality, later gave way to a severely monochrome style, full of enharmonic shifts, and creating the impression of several tonal centres simultaneously employed."

Vocal music

Fauré is regarded as one of the masters of the French art song, or mélodie. In Copland's view, the early songs were written under the influence of Gounod, and except for isolated songs such as "Après un rêve" or "Au bord de l'eau" there is little sign of the artist to come. With the second volume of the sixty collected songs, Copland judged, came the first mature examples of "the real Fauré". He instanced "Les berceaux", "Les roses d'Ispahan" and especially "Clair de lune" as "so beautiful, so perfect, that they have even penetrated to America", and drew attention to less well known mélodies such as "Le secret", "Nocturne", and "Les présents". Fauré also composed a number of song cycles. Cinq mélodies "de Venise", Op. 58, was described by Fauré as a novel kind of song suite, in its use of musical themes recurring over the cycle. For the later cycle La bonne chanson, Op. 61, there were five such themes, according to Fauré. He also wrote that La bonne chanson was his most spontaneous composition, with Emma Bardac singing back to him each day's newly written material.

The Requiem, Op. 48, was not composed to the memory of a specific person but, in Fauré's words, "for the pleasure of it." It was first performed in 1888. It has been described as "a lullaby of death" because of its predominantly gentle tone. Fauré omitted the Dies Irae, though reference to the day of judgment appears in the Libera me, which, like Verdi, he added to the normal liturgical text.Fauré revised the Requiem over the years, and a number of different performing versions are now in use, from the earliest, for small forces, to the final revision with full orchestra.

Fauré's operas have not found a place in the regular repertoire. Copland called Pénélope a fascinating work, and one of the best operas written since Wagner. He noted, however, that the music is, as a whole, "distinctly non-theatrical." The work uses leitmotifs, and the two main roles call for voices of heroic quality, but these are the only ways in which the work is Wagnerian. In Fauré's late style, "tonality is stretched hard, without breaking."

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Listening 3

 

La lune blanche, from the song cycle La bonne chanson, by Gabriel Fauré

La bonne chanson, Op. 61, by Gabriel Fauré, is a song cycle of nine mélodies for voice and piano. He composed it during 1892–94; in 1898 he created a version for voice, piano and string quintet. The cycle is based on nine of the poems from the collection of the same name by Paul Verlaine. According to Fauré himself, the song cycle contains a number of musical themes which recur from song to song.

Fauré's settings are as follows:[15]

  1. "Une sainte en son auréole"
  2. "Puisque l'aube grandit"
  3. "La lune blanche luit dans les bois"
  4. "J'allais par des chemins perfides"
  5. "J'ai presque peur, en vérité"
  6. "Avant que tu ne t'en ailles"
  7. "Donc, ce sera par un clair jour d'été"
  8. "N'est-ce pas?"
  9. "L'hiver a cessé"

Monday, April 4, 2011

Listening 2

 

Gerard Souzay sings Don Quichotte a Dulcinee.  It is a collection of three songs for baritone and accompaniment composed by Maurice Ravel in 1932 on poems by Paul Morand . This is the last work completed by Ravel, which has two versions: one for voice and orchestra, the other arranged for voice and piano.

You only need to know the first song for your listening identification.  But I do hope you decide to listen to all of it!

  1. Chanson romanesque
  2. Chanson épique
  3. Chanson à boire

Listening 1

La spectre de la rose, by by Hector Berlioz, from Les nuits d’été. 

Sung by Janet Baker

Les nuits d'été (Summer Nights), Op. 7, is a song cycle by the French composer Hector Berlioz. It is a setting of six poems by Théophile Gautier. The collection was completed in 1841, and initially composed for either baritone, contralto, or mezzo-soprano, and piano. Berlioz later adapted the work for soprano voice, and also gave it full orchestral accompaniment in 1856; almost all modern performances of the piece use the orchestral rather than the piano version.

The title of the song collection is a nod to the French title of A Midsummer Night's Dream, by Berlioz's beloved Shakespeare.

At first Berlioz had difficulty in deciding on a suitable order for the songs, but he finally settled on the following sequence, which is generally used for performances today, and which places the two liveliest movements at either end:

  1. Villanelle
  2. Le spectre de la rose
  3. Sur les lagunes
  4. Absence
  5. Au cimetière
  6. L'île inconnue