Kari Ringgenberg
soprano
Ināra Zandmane, piano
assisted by:
Amanda Mitchell, flute
Graduate Recital
Monday, April 21, 2014
7:30 pm
Recital Hall, Music Building
Program
Mein gläubiges Herze, BWV 68 (1725) Johann Sebastian Bach
(1685-1750)
Quatre chansons de jeunesse Claude Debussy
Pantomime (1862-1918)
Clair de lune
Pierrot
Apparition
Cupid around the World
Disfrazado de pastor Juan Hidalgo
(1614-1685)
Cupid, the slyest rogue alive Henry Purcell
(1659-1695)
Che fiero costume Giovanni Legrenzi
(1626-1690)
Dans un bois solitaire Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
(1756-1791)
Amor Richard Strauss
(1864-1949)
Intermission
Combat del somni Frederic Mompou
Damunt de tu només les flors (1893-1987)
Aquesta nit un mateix vent
Jo et pressentia com la mar
Songs About Spring Dominick Argento
who knows if the moon’s a balloon (b. 1927)
Spring is like a perhaps hand
in Just-spring
in Spring comes
when faces called flowers float out of the ground
Ah! vous dirai-je, maman from Le toreador (1849) Adolphe Adam
(1803-1856)
Kari Ringgenberg is a student of Dr. Carla LeFevre
________
In partial fulfillment of the degree requirements for the
Master of Music in Performance
Program Notes
“Mein gläubiges Herze” is the second piece in Also hat Gott die Welt geliebt by Johann
Sebastian Bach. Bach composed this cantata in 1725 to be performed on Whit-
Monday, a church celebration the day after Pentecost. Traditional elements of the late
Baroque period are heard through constant sixteenth-note counterpoint in the
accompaniment below a vocal line that requires a lightness of quality customary of
Bach’s compositions.
Claude Debussy composed Quatre chansons de jeunesse between 1981 and 1984. All
four pieces were written for Marie Vasnier, a love interest who inspired twenty-three
songs for soprano and piano. Debussy’s pieces for Madame Vasnier are characterized
by a high tessitura, flowing melodies, and long ornamented melismas, elements that
are found in abundance in the vocal line of the set. Debussy’s impressionistic style is
heard throughout the set in long phrases, wandering harmonies, and chromaticism.
Often times, the accompaniment is taken over by a wash of sound through fast,
arpeggiated chords spanning many octaves and moving across the modes.
Cupid around the World is a compilation of pieces by five different composers, of five
different countries, in five different languages, spanning more than 250 years. Love
has been written about countless times and Cupid is no exception. Each piece sets the
winged god of desire in a different light, yet they all create a musical atmosphere that
reveals the cunning, mischievous, bold nature of the child. Listen for commonalities
in how the text is set, how each piece begins and ends, and in what ways Cupid is
described through text painting.
Frederic Mompou composed the three piece cycle Combat del Somni between 1946
and 1949. Although Mompou was greatly influenced by Fauré and the French
aesthetic, he drew greatly from the Catalonian dialect. This style is characterized by
nationalist themes, folk tune influences, and increasing modernism. Mompou
described his music as “primitivista”, simple and fresh but based on Central
European musical elements. This simplicity adds to the folk song influence of Catalan
music and can be heard through Combat del Somni.
Songs About Spring were composed by Dominick Argento between 1950 and 1955.
Argento considers them his Opus 1, as they are the only set that he kept from his
undergraduate studies. Each piece is unique, setting spring in a very different
manner. The music of each brings about different emotions and Argento’s use of text
painting is prevalent to bring the selections to life.
French composer Adolphe Adam composed Le Toréador ou L’accord parfait, a two act
opera comique, in 1849. “Ah! vous dirai-je, maman”, a show piece of the opera, is
virtually a duet between soprano and flute, playing back and forth with variations on
the melody. Listeners will recognize the melody, a common tune originally written
by Mozart.
Johann Sebastian Bach:
Mein gläubiges Herze
Text by Christiane Mariane von Zielger
(1695-1760)
Mein gläubiges Herze,
frohlocke, sing, scherze,
dein Jesus ist nah;
Weg Jammer, weg Klagen,
will euch nur sagen:
mein Jesus ist da!
My Faithful Heart
My Faithful Heart,
rejoice, sing, be merry,
your Jesus is near;
Away with sorrow, away with lamentation,
I will just say to you:
My Jesus is here!
Claude Debussy:
Quatre chansons de jeunesse
Text by Paul Verlaine (1844-1896), Théodore
de Banville (1823-1891), and Stéphane
Mallarmé (1842-1898)
Pantomime (Verlaine)
Pierrot, qui n’a rien d’un Clitandre,
vide un flacon sans plus attendre,
et, pratique, entame un pâté.
Cassandre, au fond de l’avenue,
verse une larme méconnue
sur son neveu déshérité.
Ce faquin d’Arlequin combine
l’enlèvement de Colombine
et pirouette quatre fois.
Colombine rêve, surprise
de sentir un coeur dans la brise
et d’entendre en son coeur des voix.
Clair de lune (Verlaine)
Votre âme est un paysage choisi
que vont charmant masques et
bergamasques,
jouant du luth et sansant, et quasi tristes
sous leurs déguisements fantasques!
Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur
l’amour vainqueur et la vie opportune.
Ils n’ont pas l’air de croire à leur bonheur
et leur chanson se mêle au clair de lune,
Au calme clair de lune triste et beau,
qui fait rêver, les oiseaux dans les arbres
et sangloter d’extase les jets d’eau,
les grands jets d’eau sveltes parmi les
marbres.
Four songs of youth
Pantomime
Pierrot, who is nothing like Clitandre,
empties a flask without further ado,
and, ever practical, digs into a pâté.
Cassandre, at the end of the avenue,
sheds an unappreciated tear
for her disinherited nephew.
That impertinent Harlequin schemes
to abduct Columbine
and whirls around four times.
Columbine dreams, surprised
to feel a heart in the breeze
and to hear voices in her heart.
Moonlight
Your soul is a chosen landscape
charmed by masquers and revelers
playing the lute and dancing, and almost
sad beneath their fantastic disguises!
Even while singing, in a minor key,
of victorious love and fortunate living,
they do not seem to believe in their
happiness,
and their song mingles with the moonlight,
The calm moonlight, sad and beautiful,
which sets the birds in the trees dreaming,
and makes the fountains sob with ecstasy,
the tall slender fountains among the marble
statues!
Pierrot (Banville)
Le bon Pierrot, qu la foule contemple,
ayant fini les noces d’Arlequin,
suit en songeant le boulevard du Temple.
Une fillette au souple casaquin
en vain l’agace de son oeil coquina;
Et cependant mystérieuse et lisse
faisant de lui sa plus chère délice,
la blanche lune aux cornes de taureau
jette un regard de son oeil en coulisse
a son ami Jean Gaspard Deburau.
Apparition (Mallarmé)
La lune s’attristait.
Des séraphins en pleaurs rêvant,
l’archet aux doigts,
dans le calme des fleurs vaporeuses,
tiraient de mourantes violes
de blancs sanglots glissant sur l’azur des
corolles.
C’était le jour béni de ton premier baiser.
Ma songerie aimant à me martyriser
s’enivrait savamment du parfum de
tristesse
que meme sans regret et sans déboire laisse
la cueillaison d’un Rêve au Coeur qui l’a
cueilli.
J’errais donc, l’oeil rive sur le pave vieilli
quand avec du soleil aux cheveux,
dans la rue et dans le soir,
tu m’es en riant apparue
et j’ai cru voir la fée
au chapeau de claret
Qui jadis sur mes beaux sommeils d’enfant
gate passait,
laissant toufours de ses mains mal fermées
neiger de blancs bouquets
d’étoiles parfumées.
Pierrot
Good Pierrot, at whom the crowd stares,
having finished Harleguin’s wedding,
walks along the Boulevard du Temple, lost
in thought.
A girl in a supple garment
vainly teases him with a mischievous look;
And meanwhile, mysterious and smooth,
taking her sweetest delight in him,
the white moon, bull-horned,
peers in the wings
at her friend Jean Gaspard Deburau.
Apparition
The moon was saddened.
Seraphims in tears dreaming,
bows at their fingers,
in the calm of filmy flowers
threw dying violas of white sobs
sliding over the blue of corollas.
It was the blessed day of your first kiss;
My reverie, loving to torture me,
wisely imbibed its perfume of sadness
even without regret and without sadness
leaves the gathering of a dream within the
heart that gathered it.
I wandered then, my eye fixed on the worn
pavement,
when, with light in your hair,
in the street and in the evening,
you appeared to me smiling
and I thought I had seen a fairy
with a halo of light
who, in my sweet dreams as a spoiled child,
passed by,
always dropping from her carelessly closed
hands, snow white bouquet
of perfumed stars.
Juan Hidalgo:
Disfrazado de pastor
Text by Agustín de Salazar y Torres
(1642-1675)
Disfrazado de pastor vaja el amor
a ber de Siquis ingrata
que con desdenes me mata
mas ay que rigor que lloran las aues
que si enten las fuentes
al ber que de amores se que ja el amor.
Disguised as a Shepherd
Disguised as a shepherd hypnotized in love
A thankless duty of Siguis
that kills me with disdain
but woe to you who rigorously weep,
who understood that if the sources
rage, that heartbreak is that of love.
Que umilde esta Cupido depuesta
la arroganzia midiendo la distancia
de herir a ser erido de Siquis ofendido
aun adora el Sol.
Llora Cupido en bano quando su cautiverio
le destierano inperio a inperio mas tirano
al ininpetu inhumano
benzio inhumano ardor.
How humble this Cupid deposed
arrogance, measuring the distance
of hurting wounds that offended Siquis,
while still worshiping the sun.
Cupid weeps, when for his captivity
he is exiled, and more tyranny to rule the
empire by preventing inhuman
love from burning.
Henry Purcell:
Cupid, the Slyest Rogue Alive
Text by Theocritus (c308-c240 BC),
Anonymous translation
Cupid, the slyest rogue alive,
one day was plund’ring of a hive,
but as with too, too eager haste,
he strove the liquid sweets to taste,
a bee surpris’d the heedless boy,
prick’d him and dash’d the expected joy.
The urchin, when he felt the smart
of the envenom’d, angry dart,
he kick’d, he flung, he spurn’d the ground,
he blow’d, and then he chaf’d the wound,
he blow’d, and chaf’d the wound in vain,
the rubbing still increas’d the pain.
Straight to his mother’s lap he hies,
with swelling cheeks and blubber’d eyes.
Cries she, ‘What does my Cupid ail?’
When thus, thus he told his mournful tale,
‘A little bird they call a bee,
with yellow wings,
see, see, mother, see,
how it has gor’d and wounded me!’
‘And are not you’, replied his mother,
‘for all the world just such another,
just such another peevish thing,
like in bulk, and like in sting?
For when you aim a pois’nous dart
against some poor unwary heart,
how little is the archer found,
and yet how wide, how deep the wound!’
Giovanni Legrenzi:
Che fiero costume
Anonymous Text
Che fiero costume d’aligero nume,
che a forza di pene si faccia adorar!
E pur nell’ ardore il dio traditore
un vago sembiante me fe’idolatrar.
Che crudo destino che un cieco bambino
con bocca di latte si faccia stimar.
Ma questra tiranno con barbaro inganno,
entrando per gli occhi, mi fe’ sospirar.
How proud the custom
How proud the custom of the winged god,
Cupid, that he should make himself adored
by causing pain!
The treacherous deity compels me in my
passion to idolize a pleasing appearance.
O cruel fate that a sightless infant,
with his mouth still full of milk, can
command my respect.
But this false and barbarous tyrant
has entered my eyes, bringing longing.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart:
Dans un bois solitaire
Text by Antoine Houdar de la Motte
(1672-1731)
Dans un bois solitaire et sombre
je me promenais l'autr' jour,
un enfant y dormait à l'ombre,
c'était le redoutable Amour.
J'approche, sa beauté me flatte,
mais je devais m'en défier;
il avait les traits d'une ingrate,
In a lonely forest
In a lonely and somber forest
I walked the other day;
A child slept in the shade,
it was a veritable Cupid.
I approach; his beauty fascinates me.
But I must be careful:
He has the traits of the faithless maiden
que j'avais juré d'oublier.
Il avait la bouche vermeille,
le teint aussi frais que le sien,
un soupir m'échappe, il s'éveille;
l'Amour se réveille de rien.
Aussitôt déployant ses aîles et saisissant
son arc vengeur,
l'une de ses flêches, cruelles en partant,
il me blesse au coeur.
Va! va, dit-il, aux pieds de Sylvie,
de nouveau languir et brûler!
Tu l'aimeras toute la vie,
pour avoir osé m'éveiller.
whom I had sworn to forget.
He had lips of ruby,
his complexion was also fresh like hers.
A sigh escapes me and he awakes;
Cupid wakes at nothing.
Immediately opening his wings and seizing
his vengeful bow
and one of his cruel arrows as he parts,
he wounds me to the heart.
"Go!" he says, "Go! At Sylvie's feet
Will you languish anew!
You shall love her all your life,
for having dared awaken me."
Richard Strauss:
Amor
Text by Clemens Maria Wenzeslaus von
Brentano (1778-1842)
An dem Feuer saß das Kind
Amor, Amor und war blind;
Mit dem kleinen Flügel fächelt
in die Flammen er und lächelt,
Fächle, lächle, schlaues Kind.
Ach, der Flügel brennt dem Kind!
Amor, Amor Läuft geschwind!
"O wie ihn die Glut durchpeinet!"
Flügelschlagend laut er weinet;
In der Hirtin Schoß entrinnt
Hülfeschreiend das schlaue Kind.
Und die Hirtin hilft dem Kind,
Amor, Amor Bös und blind.
Hirtin, sieh, dein Herz entbrennet,
Hast den Schelmen nicht gekennet.
Sieh, die Flamme wächst geschwinde.
Hüt dich vor dem schlauen Kind!
Cupid
By the fire sat the child
Cupid, Cupid and was blind;
with his little wings he fans
into the flames and smiles;
Fan, smile, wily child!
Ah, the child's wing is burning!
Cupid, Cupid runs quickly.
O how the burning hurts him deeply!
Beating his wings, he weeps loudly;
To the shepherdess's lap runs,
crying for help, the wily child.
And the shepherdess helps the child,
Cupid, Cupid, naughty and blind.
Shepherdess, look, your heart is burning;
You did not recognize the rascal.
See, the flame is growing quickly.
Save yourself, from the wily child!
Frederic Mompou:
Combat del Somni
Text by Josep Janés (1913-1959)
Damunt de tu només les flors
Damunt de tu només les flors.
Eren com una ofrena blanca:
la llum que daven al teu cos
mai més seria de la branca;
Tota una vida de perfum
amb el seu bes t’era donada.
Tu resplendies de la llum
per l’esguard clós atresorada.
Fighting Sleep
Above you naught but flowers
Above you naught but flowers.
They were like a white offering:
The light they shed on your body
will nevermore belong to the branch.
An entire life of perfume
was given you with their kiss.
You were resplendent in the light,
treasured by your closed eyes.
Si hagués pogut ésser sospir de flor!
Donarme com un llir a tu,
perqué la meva vida
s’anés marcint, sobre’l teu pit.
I no saber mai més la nit
que al teu sostat fora esvaida.
Aquesta nit un mateix vent
Aquesta nit un mateix vent
i una mateixa vela encesad
devein dû el teu pensament
i el meu per mars on la tendresa
es torna musica i cristall.
El bes se’ns feia transparencia
si tu eres l’aigua jo el mirall
com si abracéssim una absència.
El nostre cel fora, potser,
wn somni etern aixis de besos
fets melodia i un no ser
de cossos junts i d’ulls encesos
amb flames blanques i un sospir
d’acariciar sedes de llir.
Jo et pressentia com la mar
Jo et pressentia com la mar
i com el vent immense lliure,
alta damunt de tot atzar i tot desti.
I en el meu viure com el respir.
i ara que et tinc
veig com el somi et limitava
tu no ets un nom ni un gest.
No vinc a tu com à l’imatge blava
d’un somni humà.
Tu no ets la mar que es presonera
dins de platges,
tu no ets el vent, pres en l’espai.
Tu no tens limits;
no hi ha, en car, Mots per a dirte,
ni paisatges per sê el teu món
ni seran mai.
Could I have been the sigh of a flower!
Given myself as a lily to you,
that my life might
wither over your breast,
nevermore to know the night,
vanished from your side.
Tonight the same wind
Tonight the same wind
and the same gleaming sail
are bearing your thoughts
and mine across seas where tenderness
turns to music and crystal light.
Our kiss became transparent
if you were the water, I was the mirror
it was as though we embraced a void.
Is our heaven, perhaps,
an eternal dream of kisses
made melody, an incorporeal union
with burning eyes
and white flames and a sigh
as if caressing silken lilies?
I sensed you were like the sea
I sensed you were like the sea,
and like the wind, immense, free,
towering above all hazard and all destiny.
And in my life like breathing.
And now that I have you,
I see how limiting my dream had been;
You are neither name or gesture.
Nor do I come to you as a hazy image of a
human dream.
You are not the sea, which is confined
between beaches,
you are not the wind, caught in space.
You are boundless;
there are no words to express you,
nor landlandscape to form you world;
nor will there ever be.
Dominick Argento:
Songs about Spring
Text by E. E. Cummings (1894-1962)
who knows if the moon’s a balloon
Who knows if the moon’s a balloon,
coming out of a keen city in the sky
filled with pretty people?
(And if you and I should get into it,
if they should take me and take you
into their balloon,
why then we’d go up higher
than all the pretty people
than houses and steeples and clouds:
Go sailing away and away
into a keen city which nobody ever visited,
where always it’s Spring)
and everyone’s in love
and flowers pick themselves.
in Just-spring
in Just-spring when the world is
mudluscious
the little lame balloon-man
whistles far and wee
and eddie and bill coming running from
marbles and piracies
and it’s spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
the queer old balloon-man
whistles far and wee
and betty and isbel come dancing from
hopscotch and jump-rope
and it’s spring
and the goat-footed balloon-man
whistle far and wee
in Spring comes
in Spring comes (no one asks his name)
a mender of things with eager fingers
(with patient eyes) renewing remaking
what otherwise we should have thrown
away
(and whose brook-bright flower soft
bird quick voice loves children and
sunlight and mountains)
in April (but if he should Smile)
comes nobody’ll know
Spring is like a perhaps hand
Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully out of Nowhere)
Arranging a window,
into which people look (while people stare
arranging and changing
placing carefully there a strange thing
and a known thing here)
and changing everything carefully
spring is like a perhaps Hand in a window
(carefully to and fro
moving New and Old things,
while people stare
carefully moving a perhaps fraction of
flower here placing an inch of air there)
and without breaking anything.
when faces called flowers float out of the ground
when faces called flowers float out of the
ground and breathing is wishing
and wishing is having
but keeping is downward
and doubting and never
it’s april (yes, april; my darling) it’s spring!
Yes the pretty birds frolic as spry as can fly
Yes the little fish gambol as glad as can be
(yes the mountains are dancing together)
when every leaf opens without any sound
and wishing is having and having is giving
but keeping is dotting and nothing and
nonsense alive;
we’re alive, dear: it’s (kiss me now) spring!
Now the pretty birds hover so she and so he
Now the little fish quiver so you and so I
(now the mountains are dancing)
when more than was lost has been found
and having is giving and giving is living
but keep is darkness
and winter and cringing
it’s spring (all our night becomes day)
o, it’s spring!
All the pretty birds dive to the
heart of the sky
all the little fish climb
through the mind of the sea
(all the mountains are dancings)
O, it’s spring!
Adolphe Adam:
Ah! Vous dirai-je, maman
Text by Léon-Paul Fargue (1876-1947)
Ah! Vous dirai-je maman
ce qui cause mon tourment;
Depuis que j'ai vu Clitandre
me regarder d'un air tendre
mon coeur dit it chaque instant
peut-on vivre sans amant?
Cet air me semble charmant je veux
le dire souvent oui cet air est charmant
Son motif entrainant produit
le sentiment le plus tendre,
j'aime son mouvement vous
bercant mollement il est également
expressif.
Élégant, le coeur bat
seulement a l'entendre.
Ah! I Shall Tell You, Mother
Ah! I shall tell you mother
who causes my torment;
Since I have seen Clitandre
looking at me in so tenderly a manner,
my heart says at every moment
"is one able to live without a lover?"
This look, it seems to me, is charming.
I want to tell him again and again
"Yes, this look is charming!"
His motive produces the tenderest
sentiments.
I love the way he moves which,
rocking you
gently, is equally expressive, elegant.
The heart beats nearly at hearing it.
