Allison D. Kokkeler
soprano
Brian Davis, piano
Something About Love
Graduate Recital
Saturday, April 21st, 2007
1:30 pm
Recital Hall, School of Music
Program
An Affair in the Night
Nocturne Joseph Marx
(1882-1964)
Traum durch die Dämmerung Richard Strauss
(1864-1949)
Unbewegte laue Luft Johannes Brahms
(1833-1897)
Nacht Alban Berg
(1883-1935)
Ein Stündlein wohl vor Tag Hugo Wolf
(1860-1903)
Lust, Longing, and Loss
El Gato Alberto Ginastera
(1916-1983)
Canciόn piscaresca from El Canape José Palomino
(1755-1810)
La rosa y el sauce Carlos Guastavino
(1912-2000)
¡ Vade Retro ! Joaquín Turina
(1882-1949)
Intermission
It’s Elemental
Clair de Lune Jόsef Szulc
(1875-1924)
Sil est ton charmant gazon Franz Liszt
(1811-1886)
Flammes Albert Roussel
(1869-1937)
Air Vif Francis Poulenc
(1899-1963)
Aimons-nous et dormons Claude Debussy
(1862-1918)
Animal Attraction
Lemon-Colored Dodo Irving Mopper
(b. 1914)
Green Dog Herbert Kingsley
(1958-1937)
Sweet Suffolk Owl Richard Hundley
(b. 1931)
Coyotes Ricky Ian Gordon
(b. 1956)
Elegy for a Calf John Greer
(b. 1954)
Hi Sooky, Ho Sooky John Greer
(b. 1954)
Master of Music in Performance and Pedagogy
_____
The hall is equipped with a listening assistance system.
Patrons needing such assistance should contact an usher in the lobby.
An Affair in the Night
Joesph Marx:
Nocture
Otto Erich Hartleben (1864-1905)
Süß duftende Lindenblüte
in quellender Juninacht.
Eine Wonne aus meinem Gemüte
ist mir in Sinnen erwacht.
Als klänge vor meinen Ohren
leise das Lied vom Glück,
als töne, die lange verloren,
die Jugend leise zurück.
Süß duftende Lindenblüte
in quellender Juninacht.
Eine Wonne aus meinem Gemüte
ist mir zu Schmerzen erwacht.
Richard Strauss:
Traum durch die Dämmerung
Text by Otto Julius Bierbaum (1865-1910)
Weite Wiesen im Dämmergrau;
die Sonne verglomm, die Sterne ziehn,
nun geh' ich hin zu der schönsten Frau,
weit über Wiesen im Dämmergrau,
tief in den Busch von Jasmin.
Durch Dämmergrau in der Liebe Land;
ich gehe nicht schnell, ich eile nicht;
ich zieht ein weiches samtenes Band
durch Dämmergrau in der Liebe Land,
in ein blaues, mildes Licht.
Johannes Brahms:
Unbewegte laue Luft
Text by Georg Friedrich Daumer (1800-1875)
Unbewegte laue Luft,
Tiefe Ruhe der Natur;
Durch die stille Gartennacht
Plätschert die Fontäne nur.
Aber im Gemüte schwillt
Heißere Begierde mir,
Aber in der Ader quillt
Leben und verlangt nach Leben.
Sollten nicht auch deine Brust
Sehnlichere Wünsche heben?
Sollte meiner Seele Ruf
Nicht dir deine tief durchbeben?
Leise mit dem Ätherfuß
Säume nicht, daherzuschweben!
Komm, o komm, damit wir uns
Himmlische Genüge geben!
Night
Sweetly fragrant linden blossoms
in the flowing June night
awakened in my being
a feeling of rapture.
There wounded in my ears
a song of happiness
as if long lost
youth gently resounded.
Sweetly fragrant linden blossoms
in the flowing June night
awakened in my being
a feeling of pain.
Dreaming through the twilight
Broad meadows in the grey twilight;
the sun's light has died away and the stars are moving.
Now I go to the loveliest of women,
across the meadow in the grey twilight,
deep into bushes of jasmine.
Through the grey twilight to the land of love;
I do not walk quickly, I do not hurry.
I am drawn by a faint, velvet thread through the grey
twilight to the land of love,
into a blue, mild light.
Motionless Tepid Air
Motionless, tepid air,
Nature, deeply at rest;
Through the still garden-night
Only the fountain splashes.
But in my heart there surges
Hot desires,
And in my veins swells
Life, and a longing for life.
Should not also your breast
Be lifted by longing wishes?
Should not the cry of my soul
Reverberate deeply in yours?
Softly, with ethereal steps,
Do not tarry to float to me!
Come, oh come, so that we might
Give each other heavenly satisfaction!
Alban Berg:
Nacht
Text by Carl Hauptmann (1858-1921)
Dämmern Wolken über Nacht und Tal,
Nebel schweben, Wasser rauschen sacht.
Nun entschleiert sich's mit einemmal:
O gib Acht! Gib Acht!
Weites Wunderland ist aufgetan.
Silbern ragen Berge, traumhaft groß,
Stille Pfade silberlicht talen
Aus verborg'nem Schoß;
Und die hehre Welt so traumhaft rein.
Stummer Buchenbaum am Wege steht
Schattenschwarz, ein Hauch vom fernen Hain
Einsam leise weht.
Und aus tiefen Grundes Düsterheit
Blinken Lichter auf in stummer Nacht.
Trinke Seele! Trinke Einsamkeit!
O gib Acht! Gib Acht!
Hugo Wolf:
Ein Stündlein wohl vor Tag
Text by Eduard Mörike (1804-1875)
Derweil ich schlafend lag,
Ein Stündlein wohl vor Tag,
Sang vor dem Fenster auf dem Baum
Ein Schwälblein mir, ich hört es kaum
Ein Stündlein wohl vor Tag.
"Hör an, was ich dir sag,
Dein Schätzlein ich verklag:
Derweil ich dieses singen tu
Herzt er ein Lieb in guter Ruh,
Ein Stündlein wohl vor Tag."
O weh! nicht weiter sag!
O still! nichts hören mag!
Flieg ab, flieg ab von meinem Baum!
Ach, Lieb und Treu ist wie ein Traum
Ein Stündlein wohl vor Tag.
Lust, Love, and Loss
Alberto Ginastera:
Gato
El gato de mi casa
Es muy gauchito
Pero cuando lo bailan
Zapateadito.
Guitarrita de pino
Cuerdas de alambre.
Tanto quiero a las chicas,
Digo, como a las grandes.
Esa moza que baila
Mucho la quiero
Pero no para hermana
Que hermana tengo.
Night
The clouds embrown the night and valley;
the mists float above, the water rushing gently.
Now all at once they unveil themselves:
O listen! pay heed!
A broad land of wonder has opened up.
Silver mountains rise up, fantastically huge,
silent paths lit with silver
from the hidden lap of the valley;
and the noble world is so dreamily pure.
A mute beech stands by the path,
black with shadows; a breeze from a distant, lonely
grove wafts gently by.
And from the deep darkness of the valley
flash lights in the silent night.
Drink, my soul! Drink in this solitude!
O listen! pay heed!
An hour before daybreak
As I lay sleeping,
well an hour before daybreak,
by my window on the tree there sang
for me a little swallow; I could hardly hear it
an hour before daybreak.
"Listen well to what I say to you -
your sweetheart I denounce:
as I am singing this,
he is clasping his love in good repose,
an hour before daybreak."
O woe! say no more!
O silence! I want to hear no more!
Fly away, fly away from my tree!
Alas, love and fidelity are like a dream
an hour before daybreak!
Cat
The cat of the house
is most mischievous,
but when they dance,
they stamp their feet.
With pine guitars
and wire strings.
I like the small girls
as much as the big ones.
That girl dancing
is the one for me.
Not as a sister
I have one already.
Que hermana tengo
Si, pónte al frente
Aunque no sea tu dueño,
Digo, me gusta verte.
José Palomino:
Canciόn piscaresca from El Canape
Un canapé he comprado esta mañana
Y me ha contado todo lo que pasaba
con su dueña primera,
Que era madama de cierto cortejante muy
cortejada.
No solo quien descubre son las criadas,
Pues hasta los asientos todo lo parlan.
Mi canapé me ha dicho todas las faltas
Y sobras que había en la otra casa,
Lo que dicen y hacen galán y dama,
Y en especial si encima de él se sentaban.
Yo voy a referiros lo que pasaba
entre aquel currutaco y su madama.
Mas como ya es hoy tarde,
lo haré mañana
Carlos Guastavino:
La rosa y el sauce
Text by Francisco Silva y Valdés
La rosa se iba abriendo
Abrazada al sauce,
El árbol apasionada,
La amaba tanto!
Pero una niña coqueta
Se la ha robado,
Y el sauce desconsolado
Le está llorando.
Joaquín Turina:
¡ Vade Retro !
Text by Francisco Rodríguez Marín (1885-1943)
Amaste a Pedro, a Ignacio, a Marcelino,
A Casto, a Gil, a Pepe, a Diego,
A Antón después, a Restituto luego,
Y a Lucas, y a Ginés, y a Guan y a Lino.
Y amaste a Cleto, a Félix, a Faustino,
Es inextinguible tu amoroso fuego,
Amaste a Blas el sordo, a Luis el ciego,
Y al Pancho aquel que de las Indias vino.
Hoy, vieja, pobre y fea (guarda, Pablo!),
Te hace exhalar interminable queja
El insufrible solteril achaque.
Mas quién te ha de querer, illévete el diablo!,
Si, además de ser fea, pobre y vieja,
Tienes, en vez de un alma, un almanaque.
I have a sister.
Yes, come to the front.
I may not be your master
but I like to see you.
Picaresque song
A sofa I bought this morning
And it has told me everything that went on
With its first owner, who was a lady
By a certain suitor greatly wooed.
Not only the ones who tell tales are serving maids
Since even chairs tell all.
My couch told me all the misdeeds
And excesses that went on in the other house:
What was said and done by the beau and lady
Especially if they were sitting on it.
I'm going to tell you what went on
Between that beau and his lady
But since it's already late,
I will do it tomorrow.
The rose and the willow
The rose was opening
It embraced the willow.
The passionate tree
loved it so!
But a cheeky young girl
took it away,
and the disconsolate willow
laments it so.
Go Away!
Pedro you loved, Ignacio, Marcelino,
Casto, Gil, Pepe, Diego,
Antón, and Restituto next,
Then Lucas, Ginés, Juan and Lino.
And Clet you loved, Félix, Faustino,
Inextinguishable your fiery love,
Deaf Blas you loved, blind Luis,
And Pancho from the West Indies.
Now, old, poor and ugly (look Pablo!)
You expel those endless moans
Of insufferable spinsterhood.
But, who should love you? To hell with you devil,
Since besides being ugly, poor and old,
You have a long list where your soul should be.
It’s Elemental
Jόsef Szulc:
Clair de Lune
Text by Paul Verlaine (1844-1896)
Votre âme est un paysage choisi
Que vont charmants masques et bergamasques,
Jouant du luth et dansant, 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.
Franz Liszt:
Sil est un charmant gazon
Text by Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
S'il est un charmant gazon
Que le ciel arrose,
Où brille en toute saison
Quelque fleur éclose,
Où l'on cueille à pleine main
Lys, chèvre-feuille et jasmin,
J'en veux faire le chemin
Où ton pied se pose!
S'il est un rêve d'amour,
Parfumé de rose,
Où l'on trouve chaque jour
Quelque douce chose,
Un rêve que Dieu bénit,
Où l'âme à l'âme s'unit,
Oh! j'en veux faire le nid
Où ton coeur se pose!
Albert Roussel:
Flammes
Text by Georges Jean-Aubry (1882-1950)
Je suis près de la porte où tu m'as dit adieu:
La chambre est monotone et douce,
Et la flamme inquiète du feu
Est une source
De souvenirs clairs et joyeux.
Je suis près de la table où tu posas ta main:
La lampe a la même âme confidentielle
Et le même regard serein
Pour l'ombre qui l'appelle . . .
Près de la cheminée où tu rêvais
Je suis, ce soir d'octobre, solitaire,
Moonlight
Your soul is a chosen landscape
charmed by masques and revelers
playing the lute and dancing and almost
sad beneath their fanciful 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.
If there be a lovely grassy plot
If there's a lovely grassy plot
watered by the sky
where in every season
some flower blossoms,
where one can freely gather
lilies, woodbines and jasmines...
I wish to make it the path
on which you place your feet.
If there is a dream of love
scented with roses,
where one finds every day
something gentle and sweet,
a dream blessed by God
where soul is joined to soul...
oh, I wish to make it the nest
in which you rest your heart.
Flame
I am close to the door where you told me goodbye,
The room is monotonous and soft,
And the anxious flame of fire
Is a source
Of clear and merry memories
I am close to the table where you posed your hand:
The lamp has the same confidential heart
And the same serene glance
For the shade which calls it…
Close to the chimney where you dreamed
I am, this evening of October, recluse,
Et la chambre monotone et douce s'éclaire
De mystérieux reflets.
J'écoute les branches frémir
Sous les caresses des flammes,
Et je regarde des formes surgir,
Brèves comme des passages d'âmes.
Je sens dans mon âme et ma chair
Naître un inexplicable émoi
Et je suis monotone et doux, ce soir, et clair
De la flamme que ton passé reflète en moi.
Francis Poulenc:
Air Vif
Text by Jean Moréas (1856-1910)
Le trésor du verger et le jardin en fête,
Les fleurs des champs, des bois, éclatent de plaisir,
Hélas! hélas! Et sur leur tête le vent enfle sa voix.
Mais toi noble océan que l'assaut des tourmentes
Ne saurait ravager
Certes plus dignement, lorsque tu te lamentes,
Tu te prends à songer.
Le trésor du verger, etc…
Claude Debussy:
Aimons-nous et dormons
Text by Théodore Faullin de Banville
Aimons-nous et dormons
Sans songer au reste du monde!
Ni le flot de la mer, ni l'ouragan des monts
Tant que nous nous aimons
Ne courbera ta tête blonde,
Car l'amour est plus fort
Que les Dieux et la Mort!
Le soleil s'éteindrait
Pour laisser ta blancheur plus pure,
Le vent qui jusqu'à terre incline la forêt,
En passant n'oserait
Jouer avec ta chevelure,
Tant que tu cacheras
Ta tête entre mes bras!
Et lorsque nos deux coeurs
S'en iront aux sphères heureuses
Où les célestes lys écloront sous nos pleurs,
Alors, comme deux fleurs,
Joignons nos lèvres amoureuses,
Et tâchons d'épuiser
La mort dans un baiser!
And the monotonous and soft room clarifies
mysterious reflections.
I listen to the branches quiver
Under the caresses of the flames,
And I look at forms emerging,
Swift like passages of hearts.
I feel in my heart and my flesh
Born in me, an unexplainable agitation
And I am monotonous and soft, this evening, and clear
Of the flame that your past reflects in me.
Sharp Air
The treasure of the orchard and the garden in festival,
The flowers of the fields, the wood, burst of pleasure,
Alas! Alas! And on their head the wind swells his voice
But you noble ocean, never for a moment shaken as
the storms rage around
Admittedly with dignity, when you deplore,
You being to think.
The treasure of the orchard, etc…
Let us love and sleep
Let us love and sleep
Without a care for the rest of the world!
Neither ocean waves nor mountain storms,
While we still love each other,
Can bow your golden head,
For love is more powerful
Than Gods and death!
The sun would extinguish its rays
To make your purity more pure,
The wind which inclines to earth the forest
Would not in passing dare
To frolic with your hair,
While you nestle
You head in my arms.
And when our two hearts
Shall ascend to paradise,
Where celestial lilies shall open beneath our tears,
Then, like flowers,
Let us join our loving lips
And strive to exhaust
Death in a kiss!
Animal Attraction
Irving Mopper:
The Lemon- Colored Dodo
Text anonymous
Now Charles gave Elizabeth a Dodo;
Charles never offered one to me.
The loveliest lemon colored Dodo, with the
greenest eyes, with the greenest eyes that you
would like to see.
Now it isn’t that I’m doubting that Charles loves
me,
And I know that he would ask me out for tea,
But he did give Elizabeth a Dodo,
And he never offered one to me, and he never
offered one to me!
Herbert Kingsley:
The Green Dog
If my dog were green, I never would be seen
without a sea green bonnet, with an enormous
feather upon it.
Shoes of leaf green, hose of tea green, coat of
apple green, gloves of bottle green.
In fact I never would be seen, unless in green, if
my dog were green
But, alas no matter what you’ve heard, the facts
are consistently absurd. For my dog isn’t green.
And what sets the matter even more agog.
I haven’t any dog.
Richard Hundley:
Sweet Suffolk Owl
Text by Thomas Vauter (1580- ??)
Sweet Suffolk owl so trimly dight, with feathers like
a lady bright, Thou singest alone, Thou singest
along, Sitting by night,
Te whit, te whoo! te whit, te whoo! te whit, te whoo,
te whit, te whoo!
Thy note that forth so freely rolls with shrill
command the mouse controls,
And singest a dirge, and singest a dirge for dying
souls,
Te whit, te whoo! Te white te whoo! te whit te who
te whit, te whoo!
Ricky Ian Gordon:
Coyotes
Text by Ray Underwood
I understand you coyotes.
I understand the song you croon.
I never did before, before I hungered for his kisses
underneath an amber moon.
Oh how I loath you coyotes, and everything you know
of me.
You sing of my demise, that laughing in your eyes
turns all my love to bitter mockery.
Yes, coyotes, you tell of all that I am dreaming of.
Yes, coyotes, you tell of these fools fool enough to
love.
Laugh on, laugh on you wild coyotes, with angels on
your razor backs who tell me not to stay and beckon
me away, to run the ridges with your frenzied packs.
No man may own my soul from off this frozen knoll.
I’ll scream it till I turn that moon to wax.
John Greer:
Elegy for a Calf
Text by Paul Hiebert
Oh calf, that gamboled by my door, who made…
me rich who now am poor,
That lick my hand with milk be spread,
Oh calf, calf! Art dead, art dead?
Oh calf, I sit and languish, calf with somber face,
I cannot laugh.
Can I forget thy playful bunts? Oh calf, calf that loved
me once!
With mildewed optics, deathlike, still,
My nights are damp, my days are chill,
I weep again with doleful sniff, with doleful sniff.
Oh, calf, calf, so dead, so stiff…
So dead, so stiff.
John Greer:
Hi Sooky, Ho Sooky
Text by Paul Hiebert
Oh, I heard your voice at daybreak,
calling loud and sweet and clear;
I was hiding in the turnips with a cricket in my ear.
A miller moth in one ear and a cricket in the other,
but I heard your dear voice calling to the piglets
and their mother;
Heard your own voice rising, falling, loud and long,
and sharp and shrill calling,
“Sooky, Sooky, Sooky!” To the piglets on the hill;
“Hi, Sooky, Ho, Sooky, Hi, Sooky, Ho Sooky,
Come and get your swill!”
Oh, I’ve hid among the turnips, and I’ve hid
between the stooks, with barley barbs all down my
back and beetles in my boots;
but I’ve seen you in the dwindling, and I’ve seen
you in the rain, with an armful full of kindling, when
you fell and rose again;
I’ve see you plodding through the dust and
plugging through the wet.
And at night against the windowblind, I’ve seen
your silhouette;
But, “Sooky, Sooky, Sooky,” I never can forget;
“Hi Sooky, Ho Sooky, Hi Sooky, Ho Sooky, come
and get your pep!”
And oh I think I’ll hide again for just a sight of you,
and hear your own sweet voice again call, “Sooky,
Sooky, Soo,
Hi, Sooky, Ho, Sooky, come and get the stew.
Sooky, come and get your goo, Sooky, Sooky,
Sooky Soo!”
The UNCG School of Music has been recognized for years as one of the elite
music institutions in the United States. Fully accredited by the National
Association of Schools of Music since 1938, the School offers the only
comprehensive music program from undergraduate through doctoral study in
both performance and music education in North Carolina. From a total
population of approximately 16,000 university students, the UNCG School of
Music serves over 600 music majors with a full-time faculty and staff of more than
sixty. As such, the UNCG School of Music ranks among the largest Schools of
Music in the South.
The UNCG School of Music now occupies a new 26-million-dollar music building,
which is among the finest music facilities in the nation. In fact, the new music
building is the second-largest academic building on the UNCG Campus. A large
music library with state-of-the-art playback, study and research facilities houses
all music reference materials. Greatly expanded classroom, studio, practice
room, and rehearsal hall spaces are key components of the new structure. Two
new recital halls, a large computer lab, a psychoacoustics lab, electronic music
labs, and recording studio space are additional features of the new facility. In
addition, an enclosed multi-level parking deck is adjacent to the new music
building to serve students, faculty and concert patrons.
Living in the artistically thriving Greensboro—Winston-Salem—High Point “Triad”
area, students enjoy regular opportunities to attend and perform in concerts
sponsored by such organizations as the Greensboro Symphony Orchestra, the
Greensboro Opera Company, and the Eastern Music Festival. In addition,
UNCG students interact first-hand with some of the world’s major artists who
frequently schedule informal discussions, open rehearsals, and master classes at
UNCG.
Costs of attending public universities in North Carolina, both for in-state and out-of-
state students, represent a truly exceptional value in higher education.
For information regarding music as a major or minor field of study, please write:
Dr. John J. Deal, Dean
UNCG School of Music
P.O. Box 26170
Greensboro, North Carolina 27402-6170
(336) 334-5789
On the Web: www.uncg.edu/mus/
