Jourdan Laine Howell
soprano
Rebecca Wilt, piano
assisted by:
Meris Gadaleto, soprano
Sarah Love Taylor, mezzo-soprano
Graduate Recital
Monday, April 28, 2014
7:30 pm
Recital Hall, Music Building
Program
The Sweetness of my Dreams (2005) J. Hagen
I. I will sing you a song! (b. 1980)
II. Dandelion
III. Theater Song (an exaggerated tale)
IV. Moon Song
V. About my dreams
Canciones para niños (1953) X. Montsalvatge
I. Paisaje (1912-2002)
II. Canción tonta
III. Canción China en Europa
IV. Cancioncilla sevillana
La regatta veneziana (1878) G. Rossini
La Pesca (1835) (1792-1868)
Celle qui vient from Thais (1894) J. Massenet
(1842-1912)
Evening Prayer from Hänsel und Gretel (1891) E. Humperdink
(b. 1965)
Meris Gadaleto and Sarah Love Taylor
Intermission
Wiegenlied (1816) F. Schubert
(1797-1828)
Wiegenleid (1868) J. Brahms
(1833-1897)
Wiegenleid (1899) R. Strauss
(1864-1949)
What if… (1986) L. Hoiby
Jabberwocky (1986) (1926-2011)
If you become the moon (2008) K. Helppie
(b. 1956)
Jourdan Laine Howell is a student of Dr. Robert Wells
________
In partial fulfillment of the degree requirements for the
Doctor of Musical Arts in Performance
Jocelyn Hagen
The Sweetness of my Dreams
5 pieces on poetry by 10 year old poet,
Hilda Conkling (published in 1920)
I will sing you a song!
I will sing you a song,
Sweets-of-my-heart,
With love in it,
(How I love you!)
What song shall I sing,
Rose-song or clover-song?
If I find a moon,
I will sing a moon song.
The red moon comes out in the night.
When I’m asleep, the moon comes pattering
up Into the trees.
Then I peep out my window
To watch the moon go by.
Will you love me to-morrow after next?
As if I had a bird’s way of singing?
Dandelion
O Little Soldier with the golden helmet,
What are you guarding on my lawn?
You with your green gun
And your yellow beard,
Why do you stand so stiff?
There is only the grass to fight!
Theater Song (an exaggerated tale)
Eagles were flying over the sky
And mermaids danced in the gold waters.
Eagles were calling over the sky
And the water was the color of blue
flowers.
Sunshine was ‘flected in the waves
Like meadows of white buds.
This is what I saw
On a morning long ago...
Moon Song
There is a star that runs very fast,
That goes pulling the moon
Through the tops of the poplars.
It is all in silver, The tall star:
The moon rolls goldenly along
Out of breath.
Mr. Moon, does he make you hurry?
About my Dreams
Now the flowers are all folded
and the dark is going by.
The evening is arising...
it is time to rest.
When I am sleeping
I find my pillow full of dreams.
They are all new dreams:
no one told them to me before I came
through the cloud.
They remember the sky, my little dreams,
they have wings, they are quick, they are
sweet.
Help me tell my dreams
to the other children,
so that their bread may taste whiter,
so that the milk they drink
may make them think of meadows in the
sky of stars.
Dear God, let me hold up my silver cup
for them to drink,
and tell them the sweetness
of my dreams.
Xavier Montsalvatge
Canciones para niños
Frederico García Lorca (1898-1936)
Paisaje
La tarde equivocada
se vistió de frío.
Detrás de los cristales turbios,
todos los niños,
ven convertirse en pájaros un árbol
amarillo.
La tarde está tendida
a lo largo del río.
Y un rubor de manzana
tiembla en los tejadillos.
Canción tonta
Mamá, yo quiero ser de plata.
Hijo, tendrás mucho frío.
Mamá. Yo quiero ser de agua.
Hijo, tendrás mucho frío.
Mamá. Bórdarme en tu almohada.
¡Eso sí! ¡Ahora mismo!
Canción China en Europa
La señorita del abanico,
va por el Puente del fresco río.
Los caballeros con sus levitas,
miran el puente sin barandillas.
La señorita del abanico
y los volantes, busca marido.
Los caballeros están casados,
con altas rubias de idioma blanco.
Los grillos cantanpor el Oeste.
(La señorita va por lo verde.)
Los grillos cantan bajo las flores.
(Los caballeros, van por el Norte.)
Songs for children
Landscape
The afternoon mistakenly got dressed in
cold.
Behind the misted windows,
all the children
see a yellow tree turn into birds.
The afternoon is stretched
along the river.
And a red flush of apple
trembles on the rooftops.
Silly Song
Mama, I want to be made of silver.
Son, you’ll be very cold.
Mama, I want to be made of water.
Son, you’ll be very cold.
Mama. Embroider me on your pillow.
Yes that! Right away!
Chinese Song in Europe
The lady with the fan
is crossing the bridge of the cold river.
The gentlemen with their coats
are watching the bridge without handrails.
The lady with the fan and flounced skirt
is seeking a husband.
The gentlemen are all married
to tall blonde women who speak the
language of the Western man.
The crickets are singing in the West.
(The lady walks through the grass.)
The crickets are singing beneath the
flowers.
(The caballeros are off to the North.)
Cancioncilla sevillana
Amanecía en el naranjel.
Abejitas de oro buscaban la miel.
¿Dónde estará la miel?
Está en la flor azul, Isabel.
En la flor, del romero aquel.
(Sillita de oro para el moro.
Silla de oropel para su mujer.)
Amanecía en el naranjel.
Gioacchino Antonio Rossini
La regatta veneziana
Count Carlo Pepoli (1796-1881)
Voga, o Tonio benedeto,
Voga, voga, arranca, arranca:
Beppe el suda el batte l'anca,
Poverazzo el nol pò più.
Caro Beppe el me vecchieto,
No straccarte col te remo;
Za ghe semo, za ghe semo,
Spinze, daghe, voga più.
Ziel pietoso, una novizza
C'ha el so ben nella regada,
Fala, o zielo, consolada,
No la far stentarde più.
La Pesca
Pietro Metastasio (1698-1782)
Già la notte s'avvicina,
viene o Nice, amato bene,
della placida marina
le fresch' aure a respirar.
Non sa dir che sia diletto
chi non posa in queste arene
or che un lento zefiretto
dolcemente increspa il mar.
Little Sevillian Song
Day was breaking in the orange-grove.
Little golden bees were searching for honey.
Where will the honey be?
It will be in the blue flower, Isabel.
In that flower, the rosemary one.
(Little seat of gold for the Moor.
A seat of tinsel for his wife.)
Day was dawning in the orange-grove.
The Venetian regatta
Row, oh blessed Tonio,
row away!
Beppe is sweating at his oar;
poor one, he can go no more!
Dear Beppe, my old friend,
do not become tired at your oar.
We are almost there,
heave away, keep going, row more!
Heaven have pity on a young girl
who has a beloved in the race!
Oh heaven, give her comfort,
do not keep her any longer in suspense!
Fishing
Already night is approaching,
Come Nice, beloved one,
to breath the fresh breezes
of the tranquil oceanside.
No one knows how to say what is delight
who does not stand in these sands
now that a slow little breeze
gently ripples the sea.
Jules Massenet
Terzet for Myrtale, Crobyle, La Charmeuse
from Thais (1894)
Celle qui vient…
Celle qui vient est plus belle!
Que la reine de Saba
qui dansait sur des miroirs! Ah!
Et de l'ombre de ses voiles!
Partent les traits de sa voix!
comme des flèches de feu! Ah!
Elle a le teint d'ambre pâle.!
Elle vient aérienne!!
Comme une idole impassible,!
Elle va! Ah!
Elle entraîne, elle caresse.!
Ses regards jettent de chaînes,!
Ses beaux regards a languis !
qui font les hommes captifs.!
Sans rien savoir de son pouvoir,!
Elle entraîne,! Elle caresse,!
Elle a le charme mortel!
Englebert Humperdink
Abends will ich schlafen gehn
from Hänsel und Gretel (1893)
Abends, will ich schlafen gehn,
vierzehn Engel um mich stehn:
zwei zu meinen Häupten,
zwei zu meinen Füßen,
zwei zu meiner Rechten,
zwei zu meiner Linken,
zwei die mich decken,
zwei die mich wecken,
zwei die mich weisen
zu Himmels Paradeisen!
Franz Schubert
Wiegenlied
anonymous
Schlafe, holder, süßer Knabe,
Leise wiegt dich deiner Mutter Hand;
Sanfte Ruhe, milde Labe
Bringt dir schwebend dieses Wiegenband.
Schlafe in dem süßen Grabe,
Noch beschützt dich deiner Mutter Arm,
Alle Wünsche, alle Habe
Faßt sie lieben, alle liebwarm.
Schlafe in der Flaumen Schoße,
Noch umtönt dich lauter Liebeston,
Eine Lilie, eine Rose,
Nach dem Schlafe werd' sie dir zum Lohn.
She who comes…
She who comes is finer
than the Queen of Sheba
who dances on mirrors! Ah!
From the shade of her veils
leave the features of her voice
like arrows of fire! Ah!
She has the tint of pale amber.
She comes from above!
Like an impassive idol,
she comes! Ah!
She leads on, she caresses.
Her looks cast the chains,
her beautiful looks so languid,
that make captives of men.
Without knowing of her power,
she leads on, she caresses,
she has the mortal charm!
In the evening when I go to sleep
In the evening, when I go to sleep,
fourteen angels around me stand:
two at my head,
two at my feet,
two at my right,
two at my left,
two to cover me,
two to waken me,
two to point me
to Heaven’s Paradise.
Cradle Song
Sleep, sleep, lovely, sweet boy,
softly rocked by your mother’s hand;
gentle rest, tender comfort,
this floating cradle-band brings you.
Sleep, sleep, in your sweet berth,
Still in your mother’s protective arm;
All her desires, all her possessions, she
holds lovingly, warm with love.
Sleep in the downy bosom,
you will hear pure sounds of love;
A lily, a rose,
will be your reward after you sleep.
Johannes Brahms
Wiegenlied
Georg Scherer (1824-1909)
Guten Abend, gut Nacht,
mit Rosen bedacht,!
mit Näglein besteckt,
schlupf unter die Deck’:!
Morgen früh, wenn Gott will,
wirst du wieder geweckt.!
Guten Abend, gut Nacht,
von Englein bewacht,!
Die zeigen im Traum,
dir Christkindleins Baum:!
Schlaf nun selig und süß,
schau im Traum’s Paradies.!
Ricard Strauss
Wiegenlied
Richard Fedor Leopold Dehmel (1863-1920)
Träume, träume, du mein süßes Leben,
von dem Himmel, der die Blumen bringt.
Blüten schimmern da, die leben
von dem Lied, das deine Mutter singt.
Träume, träume, Knospe meiner Sorgen,
von dem Tage, da die Blume sproß;
von dem hellen Blütenmorgen,
da dein Seelchen sich der Welt erschloß.
Träume, träume, Blüte meiner Liebe,
von der stillen, von der heilgen Nacht,
da die Blume seiner Liebe
diese Welt zum Himmel mir gemacht.
Lee Hoiby
What If…
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)
What if you slept?
And what if
In your sleep
You dreamed
And what if
In your dream
You went to heaven
And there plucked a strange
and beautiful flow'r?
And what if
when you awoke
you had the flower in your hand
Ah, what then?
Cradle Song
Good evening, good night,
covered with roses,
adorned with carnations,
slip under the covers:
Tomorrow morning, if God wills,
you will waken again.
Good evening, good night,
angels watch over you,
they show you in a dream
the Christ-child’s tree:
Sleep blissfully and sweetly now,
in dream’s Paradise.
Cradle Song
Dream, you dream, my sweet life,
of the heaven that brings flowers.
Flowers shimmer there, on the quake
of the song that your mother sings.
Dream, dream, bud of my worries,
of the day when the flowers sprouted;
of the bright morning flowers,
when your little soul opened to the world.
Dream, dream, flower of my love,
of the stillness, of the holy night,
when the flower of his love
made this world heaven to me.
Lee Hoiby
Jabberwocky
Lewis Carroll (1832-1898)
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought –
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back. "
And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Kevin Helppie
If you become the moon
If you become the moon my love
I’ll be the light of the moon
How close ever I’ll follow you
If you become the sky my love
I’ll be the stars in the sky
How close ever I’ll follow you
My love
