Verdi – Otello: Già nella notte densa

Verdi admired Shakespeare and he always wanted to composed operas based on Shakespeare’s plays. He had done MacBeth rather early in his career, he was 33, but he wanted to do some others. Most of the time these projects failed because he couldn’t find people to write a libretto he was satisfied with. Finally, late in his life,  he met a young composer who could also write magnificent libretti, Arrigo Boito. Their cooperation would give us Falstaff, Verdi’s only opera buffa, and Otello.

I don’t need to tell you what Othello is about. Boito has distilled a magnificent libretto and Verdi his written brilliant music. He was 73 when he composed the opera and he only started to work again if it was something he really wanted to do.

This is Othello’s and Desdemona’s love duet, everything is still as it should be,  Iago hasn’t started intriguing yet.  Listen to the wonderful introduction the cello’s give. It is sung by Angela Gheorghiu and Roberto Alagna with the Staatskapelle Dresden, conducted by Giuseppe Sinopoli

Epitaph For A Darling Lady

by Dorothy Parker

All her hours were yellow sands,
Blown in foolish whorls and tassels;
Slipping warmly through her hands;
Patted into little castles.

Shiny day on shiny day
Tumbled in a rainbow clutter,
As she flipped them all away,
Sent them spinning down the gutter.

Leave for her a red young rose,
Go your way, and save your pity;
She is happy, for she knows
That her dust is very pretty.

Mozart: “Ah chi mi dice mai” (Don Giovanni)

I do not only adore Mahler, I adore Mozart too; though I do not love everything he has written. Most composers would be happy to have written a few of the works that are second rate Mozart, it would be first rate “whatever his name is”.  One of his best works is Don Giovanni about the well known lady killer.

In this fragment Donna Elvira, one of Giovanni’s former conquests is looking for him and complaining that he was so cruel to her and that he broke her heart. By pure chance Don Giovanni hears her, though he doesn’t know who she is, and immediately sees an opportunity to console (read seduce) this unlucky creature. Only at the end they see each other and when they recognise each other Don Giovanni wants to flee as fast as he can. The ensuing recitative will lead us to the famous catalogue aria (the ensemble finishes at 3:30 min).

Again the range for the soprano, especially in the lower registers, is extraordinary. How I love this aspect of Mozart’s music the way he makes women sing quite low. He not only does it here but in almost all his operas ,  Listen to Deh, vieni non tardar or Come scoglio in Cosí.

You will hear Joyce DiDonato as Donna Elvira, Simon Keenlyside as Don Giovanni, Kyle Ketelsen as Leporello the orchestra of the Royal Opera House Covent Garden conducted by Charles Mackerras.

If you forget me

by Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.


Mahler: Lod des hohen verstandes (with translation)

Did I already tell you I adore Mahler’s music? There is hardly a thing that he’s written that I do not like. The lied here is using a text from  “Des Knaben Wunderhorn”, a collection of poetry published between 1805 and 1808 by Clemens Brentano and Achim von Arnim. Mahler used 12 of these poems in his Lied cycle with the same name but he used others in his symphonies and another nine have been written for voice and piano.

This lied ” In praise of high intellect” is about a singing contest between the cuckoo and the nightingale. Of course there has to be a judge and the cuckoo chooses the donkey because he has big ears, so he must hear well, something that is an asset when judging music. The birds sing and the donkey finds the song of the nightingale far too complicated, making his head spin if not giving him a headache. The song of the cuckoo that is something else! Third and fourths and fifths (all simple intervals), that is music. So simple so it must be very good!

Listen to the orchestra where the call of the cuckoo is already heard in the beginning, often repeated throughout the whole work  You will also hear the eeh-aahs of the donkey very often, not only sung but also in the orchestra. The only time the music becomes more complicated is when the nightingale sings.

It isn’t hard to see that Mahler is making fun of musical criticism. But at the same time it is still true today that simple, easy and repetitive music (like most pop tunes are) are widely preferred over music that is (thought to be) more difficult, the kind of music you are hearing here.

You will hear it sung by Walton Groenroos, Leonard Bernstein is conducting the Israel Philharmonic. Have a good laugh!

Einstmals in einem tiefen Tal
Kukuk und Nachtigall
Täten ein Wett’ anschlagen:
Zu singen um das Meisterstück,
Gewinn’ es Kunst, gewinn’ es Glück:
Dank soll er davon tragen.

Der Kukuk sprach: “So dir’s gefällt,
Hab’ ich den Richter wählt”,
Und tät gleich den Esel ernennen.
“Denn weil er hat zwei Ohren groß,
So kann er hören desto bos
Und, was recht ist, kennen!”

Sie flogen vor den Richter bald.
Wie dem die Sache ward erzählt,
Schuf er, sie sollten singen.
Die Nachtigall sang lieblich aus!
Der Esel sprach: “Du machst mir’s kraus!
Du machst mir’s kraus! I-ja! I-ja!
Ich kann’s in Kopf nicht bringen!”

Der Kukuk drauf fing an geschwind
Sein Sang durch Terz und Quart und Quint.
Dem Esel g’fiels, er sprach nur
“Wart! Wart! Wart! Dein Urteil will ich sprechen,
Wohl sungen hast du, Nachtigall!
Aber Kukuk, singst gut Choral!

Und hältst den Takt fein innen!
Das sprech’ ich nach mein’ hoh’n Verstand!
Und kost’ es gleich ein ganzes Land,
So laß ich’s dich gewinnen!”

A Song For The Summer

by A. A. Milne

Is it raining? Never mind
Think how much the birdies love it!
See them in their dozens drawn,
Dancing, to the croquet lawn
Could our little friends have dined
If there’d been no worms above it?

Is it murky? What of that,
If the Owls are fairly perky?
Just imagine you were one
Wouldn’t you detest the sun?
I’m pretending I’m a Bat,
And I know I  like it murky.

Is it chilli? After all,
We must not forget the Poodle.
If the days were really hot,
Could he wear one woolly spot?
Could he even keep his shawl?
No, he’d shave the whole caboodle.

Brahms: Double concerto – Andante

I know that Brahms hasn’t the same appeal as let’s say Rachmaninov but that doesn’t mean he didn’t write fantastic music. It is however strange to notice that some of his best works were written later in his life. One such work is this, it was written in 1887 when Brahms was 54.

As he was not so familiar with composing for violin and cello he sought advice contacting Joseph Joachim a life long friend, though their friendship had faded when Brahms chose Joachim’s wife side during their divorce, and a famous cellist Hausmann. These two soloists would also play the first performances with Brahms conducting. As the work often had to be repeated it must have been a great success.

The concerto makes use of the musical motif A-E-F, a permutation of F-A-E, which stood for a personal motto of Joachim, Frei aber einsam (“free but lonely”). Thirty-four years earlier, Brahms had been involved in a another work using the F-A-E motif in tribute to Joachim: the F-A-E Sonata (with Schumann and  Schumann’s pupim Dietrich). Almost the same motif F-A-F can  be heard in the 3rd symphony.

It isn’t an easy work to play, Brahms never is,  so it needs two very good soloists and that is one of the reason it isn’t often heard.

I have chosen the second movement , very romantic and very moving .

Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,–no,

by Edna St Vincent Millay

Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,–no,
Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more fair
Than small white single poppies,–I can bear
Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though
From left to right, not knowing where to go,
I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there
Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear
So has it been with mist,–with moonlight so.

Like him who day by day unto his draught
Of delicate poison adds him one drop more
Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten,
Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed
Each hour more deeply than the hour before,
I drink–and live–what has destroyed some men.

Parce Mihi Domine – Christóbal de Morales

Some time ago The Hilliard Ensemble recorded music by Christóbal de Morales a Spanish Renaissance composer, it isn’t known when he was born and even the exact year of his death isn’t known. He was one of the most influential composers of his time a wrote a lot of religious vocal music. The reason this recording became so successful was the addition of a saxophone to certain settings. The saxophone player Jan Gabarek improvised accompaniments to these vocal scores.

The fact the the Hilliard ensemble committed this “greatest of sins” when it comes to authentic performances isn’t so surprising. the have also recorded music by Arvo Pärt the contemporary Estonian composer.

In order to let you taste of both the original and the adapted version and to let you choose your favourite I have included them both here. Though I am most of the time inclined to prefer authentic performances I must admit that the saxophone adds a certain something that makes it enjoyable. Not that I would listen to it all the time, even the best food if eaten every day loses its attraction, but once in a while I’m prepared to throw my principles overboard.

 

 

Parce mihi, Domine, nihil enim sunt dies mei.
Quid est homo, quia magnificas eum?
Aut quid apponis erga eum cor tuum?
Visitas eum diluculo et subito probas illum.
Usquequo non parcis mihi, nec dimittis me, ut glutiam salivam meam?
Peccavi, quid faciam tibi, o custos hominum?
Quare posuisti me contrarium tibi, et factus sum mihimetispsi gravis?
Cur non tollis peccatum meum, et quare non aufers iniquitatem meam?
Ecce, nunc in pulvere dormiam, et si mane me quaesieris, non subsistam.

(English translation)
Spare me, Lord, for my days are as nothing.
What is Man, that you should make so much of us?
Or why should you set your heart upon us?
You visit us at dawn,
and put us to the test at any moment.
Will you not spare me and let me be,
while I swallow my saliva?
If I have sinned, how have I hurt you,
O guardian of mankind?
Why have you set me up as your target,
so that I am now a burden to myself?
Why do you not forgive my sin
and why do you not take away my guilt?
Behold, I shall now lie down in the dust:
if you come looking for me I shall have ceased to exist.

Les bijoux (with translation)

by Charles Baudelaire

La très-chère était nue, et, connaissant mon cœur,
Elle n’avait gardé que ses bijoux sonores,
Dont le riche attirail lui donnait l’air vainqueur
Qu’ont dans leurs jours heureux les esclaves des Mores.

Quand il jette en dansant son bruit vif et moqueur,
Ce monde rayonnant de métal et de pierre
Me ravit en extase, et j’aime à la fureur
Les choses où le son se mêle à la lumière.

Elle était donc couchée et se laissait aimer,
Et du haut du divan elle souriait d’aise
À mon amour profond et doux comme la mer,
Qui vers elle montait comme vers sa falaise.

Les yeux fixés sur moi comme un tigre dompté,
D’un air vague et rêveur elle essayait des poses,
Et la candeur unie à la lubricité
Donnait un charme neuf à ses métamorphoses ;

Et son bras et sa jambe, et sa cuisse et ses reins,
Polis comme de l’huile, onduleux comme un cygne,
Passaient devant mes yeux clairvoyants et sereins ;
Et son ventre et ses seins, ces grappes de ma vigne,

S’avançaient, plus câlins que les Anges du mal,
Pour troubler le repos où mon âme était mise,
Et pour la déranger du rocher de cristal
Où, calme et solitaire, elle s’était assise.

Je croyais voir unis par un nouveau dessin
Les hanches de l’Antiope au buste d’un imberbe,
Tant sa taille faisait ressortir son bassin.
Sur ce teint fauve et brun le fard était superbe !

– Et la lampe s’étant résignée à mourir,
Comme le foyer seul illuminait la chambre,
Chaque fois qu’il poussait un flamboyant soupir,
Il inondait de sang cette peau couleur d’ambre !


My darling was naked, and knowing my heart well,
She was wearing only her sonorous jewels,
Whose opulent display made her look triumphant
Like Moorish concubines on their fortunate days.

When it dances and flings its lively, mocking sound,
This radiant world of metal and of gems
Transports me with delight; I passionately love
All things in which sound is mingled with light.

She had lain down; and let herself be loved
From the top of the couch she smiled contentedly
Upon my love, deep and gentle as the sea,
Which rose toward her as toward a cliff.

Her eyes fixed upon me, like a tamed tigress,
With a vague, dreamy air she was trying poses,
And by blending candor with lechery,
Her metamorphoses took on a novel charm;

And her arm and her leg, and her thigh and her loins,
Shiny as oil, sinuous as a swan,
Passed in front of my eyes, clear-sighted and serene;
And her belly, her breasts, grapes of my vine,

Advanced, more cajoling than angels of evil,
To trouble the quiet that had possessed my soul,
To dislodge her from the crag of crystal,
Where calm and alone she had taken her seat.

I thought I saw blended in a novel design
Antiope’s haunches and the breast of a boy,
Her waist set off so well the fullness of her hips.
On that tawny brown skin the rouge stood out superb!

— And when at last the lamp allowed itself to die,
Since the fire alone lighted the room,
Each time that it uttered a flaming sigh,
It drenched with blood that amber colored skin!

— Translated by William Aggeler