Shea and Amy Owens

In Recital
with

Rachel Chao
Guest performers:
Joanna Becker Yvonne Smith Kevin Brown Emily Jackson Eva Lymenstull Henry Williford Trevor Mowry William Short

Geoffrey Sanford

Amalia Bandy Grant Loehnig

Program Notes Texts and Translations

Apollo e Dafne
George Frideric Handel (1685-1759)
Never insult Cupid. Apollo learned that lesson way back in Greek mythology when he insulted Eros for playing with a bow and arrows, saying, What have you to do with warlike w eapons, saucy boy? Leave them for the hands worthy of them. Apollo had indeed won great battles, but Cupid, as many of us well know, can be just as dangerous. And so, Cupid shot Daphne with a lead arrow to incite hatred, and Apollo with a golden one to incite love. The beautiful Daphne ran from Apollo until Cupid intervened on his behalf. Daphne, caught at last, cried out to her father, Open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger! Suddenly, her arms became branches and her feet became roots, turning her into what is known as the laurel tree. Apollo thereafter vowed to tend her and gave her eternal youth. Since then, her leaves decorate the crowns of heroes, and she is used as a symbol of chastity for poets and musicians alike. Handel set this myth as a secular cantata in 1709-10. It was one of his most ambitious and dramatic cantatas, indicating his brilliant operatic career that followed in the next 30 years of his life. In the interest of time, several numbers have been cut for this performance, but the dramatic line that connects with the recitative is intact.

Apollo and Daphne 15th century painting by Antonio Pollaiuolo

Apollo: La terra liberata, la Grecia, vendicata! Apollo ha vinto! Chil superbetto Amore delle saette mie ceda la forza; chomai pi non si vanti della punta fatal daurato strale; Un sol Piton pi vale che mille accesi e saettati amanti. (Aria) Spezza larco e getta larmi Dio dellozio e del piacer. Come mai puoi tu piagarmi nume ignudo e cieco arcier?

The earth is set free, Greece is avenged! Apollo has won! Let Cupid in his petty pride give way to the force of my arrows; let him boast no more of the fatal point of his golden arrows; One Python alone is worth more than a thousand ardent wounded lovers. Break your bow and cast away your weapons, God of idleness and pleasure. How can you ever hurt m e, naked spirit and blind archer?

Dafne: (Aria) Felicissima questalma chama sol la libert. Non v pace non v calma per chi sciolto il cor non ha. Apollo: Che voce! che belt! Questo suon, questa vista il cor trapassa. Ninfa! Dafne: Che veggo? ahi lassa; e chi sar costui che mi sorprese? Apollo: Io son un Dio, chil tuo bel volto accesse. Dafne: Non conosco altri Dei fra queste selve, che la sola Diana. Non taccostar divinita profana. Apollo: Che crudel! Dafne: Chimportuno! Apollo: Cerco il fin de miei mali. Dafne: Ed io lo scampo. Apollo: Io mi struggo damor. Dafne: Io dira avvampo! (Duet) Una guerra dentro il seno che soffrir pi non si pu. Ardo, gelo, temo e peno, sallardor non metti freno pace aver m ai non potr.

Happy is this soul that loves only freedom. There is not peace, there is no calm if the heart is not unfettered. What a voice! What beauty! This sound, this sight pierces my heart. Nymph! What do I see? Alas; And who is it that surprises m e? I am a God, whom your beauty has aroused. I know no other God in these woods but only Diana. Do not come near, and profane God. How cruel! How importunate! I seek an end to my troubles. And I shall survive it. I am consumed with love. I am burning with anger! A war rages in m y breast that I can bear no longer. I burn, I freeze, I fear, I suffer. If this ardour is not checked I can never have peace.

Apollo: Placati al fin, o cara, la belt ache minfiamma sempre non fiorira, ci che natura di pi vago form, passa, e non dura. Dafne: Ah, chun Dio non dovrebbe altro amore seguir choggetti eterni. Perir, finir, caduca polve che grata a te mi rende, ma non gi la virt che mi difende. (Aria) Come in ciel benigna stella di Nettun placa il furor, tal in alma onesta e bella la ragion frena lamor. Apollo: Odi la mia ragion! Dafne: Sorda son io! Apollo: Orsa e tigre tu sei! Dafne: Tu non sei Dio! Apollo: Cede allamor o proverai la forza. Dafne: Nel sangue mio questa tua fiamma amorza!

Be calm now, my dear o ne, The beauty that inflames me will not flower forever, the fairest that Nature creates passes, and does not last. Ah, a God should follow after no other love than for eternal objects. The fleeting dust will perish, will end, that makes m e pleasing to you, but not the virtue that protects me. As in gentle heaven the star of Neptune calms the storm, so in an honest and fair soul, reason holds love in check. Hear my reason! I am deaf! A bear you are, a tigress! You are no God! Yield to love, or you will feel m y force. In my blood this ardor of yours will b e quenched.

Apollo: (Duet) Deh! lascia addolcire quellaspro rigor! Dafne: Pi tosto morire che perder lonor. Apollo: Deh cessino lire, o dolce mio cor! Sempre tadorer Dafne: Sempre taborrir Apollo: Tu non mi fuggirai! Dafne: Si, che ti fuggir! Apollo: Ti seguir, correr, voler sui passi tuoi, pi veloce del sole esser non puoi! (Aria) Mie piante correte, mie braccia stringete, lingrata belt. La tocco, la cingo, la prenda, la stringo, ma, ma, qual novit? che vidi? che mirai? Cieli! destino! che sarai mai? Dafne, dove sei tu? Che non ti trovo! qual minacolto nuovo ti rapisce, ti cangia e ti nasconde? che non toffenda mai del verno il gelo ne il folgore dal cielo tocchi la sacra e gloriosa fronde. (Aria) Cara pianta, co miei pianti, il tuo verde irregher de tuoi rami trionfanti sommi eroi correner.

Ah! Soften that harsh severity! To die is better than to lose my honor. Ah cease your anger, O beloved of my heart. Always will I adore you! Always will I abhor you! You shall not escape m e! Yes, I will escape you! I will follow you, run after you, fly in your steps, swifter than the sun you cannot be! Run, my feet, hold tight, my arms, the ungrateful beauty. I touch her, I hold her, I take her, I hold her tight, but what sudden change is this? What did I see? What b ehold? Heavens! Fate! Whatever is it? Daphne, where are you? I cannot find you. What new miracle has taken you away, changed you and hidden you? May the cold of winter never harm you nor the thunder of heaven touch your sacred and glorious foliage. Dear laurel, with my tears I shall water your green leaves with your triumphant branches will I crown the greatest heroes.

End

Chansons de Ronsard
Darius Milhaud (1892-1974)
Darias Milhaud was a member of Les six, six French composers somewhat arbitrarily grouped together, but often viewed as reactionaries against the musical style of W agner and impressionism. Although his compositional style developed throughout his lifetime, his m ature style is distinctly avant-garde and polytonal (or often polymodal). Among many reasons for adopting polytonality, Milhaud believed that "a polytonal chord is m uch m ore subtle when soft and m uch more powerful when violent than a tonal combination." Despite the turn from tonality, his linear compositional style allows for beautiful melodies and graceful phrases. The Quatre Chansons de Ronsard were written in 1940 for French coloratura soprano Lily Pons. Written in an especially high tessitura, this set gives a wistful elegance to the 16th-century poetry of Pierre de Ronsard. (1) A Une fontaine" speaks of a lively fountain in summer and nymphs dancing in the moonlight. This dance is reflected in a graceful waltz with unexpected cadences. (2) "A Cupidon" is a languorous expression of the torments of love, with graceful leaps that tug at both the ears and the heart. (3) "Tais-toi, babillarde" lightens the mood as the singer plays both the offending b ird and the patter that attempts to quiet its song. (4) "Dieu vous gard" demonstrates a different sentiment to birds and to spring, showing thanks for nature in a delightfully upbeat Vif.

1. A une Fontaine coute moi, Fontaine vive, En qui j'ai rebu si souvent, Couch tout plat dessus ta rive, Oisif la fracheur du vent, Quand l't mnager moissonne Le sein de Crs dvtu, Et l'aire par compas rsonne Gmissant sous le bl battu. Ainsi toujours puisses tu tre En religion tous ceux Qui te boiront ou fairont patre Tes verts rivages leurs boeufs. Ainsi toujours la lune claire Voie minuit au fond d'un val Les Nymphes prs de ton repaire mille bonds mener le b al!

To a fountain Listen to m e, living fountain, from whom I oft have drunk, flat on my belly overlooking your bank, lazy in the cool breeze. While the summer harvests Ceres' unclad breast and the air whimpers beneath the beaten wheat. So may you always be a sacred place to all those who drink from you or who pasture their cattle on your green banks. So may nymphs forever dance around you in the moonlit midnights.

2. A Cupidon Le jour pousse la nuit, Et la nuit sombre Pousse le jour qui luit D'une obscure ombre. L'Automne suit l't, Et l'pre rage Des vents n'a point t Aprs l'orage. Mais la fivre d'amours Qui me tourmente, Demeure en moi toujours, Et ne s'alente. Ce n'tait pas moi, Dieu, Qu'il fallait poindre, Ta flche en autre lieu Se devait joindre. Poursuis les paresseux Et les amuse, Mais non pas moi, ni ceux Qu'aime la Muse.

To Cupid Day replaces night, and dark night replaces glimmering day with an obscure shadow. Autumn follows Summer and the winds no longer rage after a storm. But love's fever that torments me lives in me still, and doesn't abate. It wasn't me, god, at whom you should've aimed. Your arrow should have hit in another place. Pursue the lazy and the amused, but not me, nor those who love the Muse.

3. Tias-toi, babillarde Tais tois, babillarde arondelle, Ou bien, je plumerai ton aile Si je t'empongne, ou d'un couteau Je te couperai la languette, Qui matin sans repos caquette Et m'estourdit tout le cerveau. Je te preste ma chemine, Pour chanter toute la journe, De soir, de nuit, q uand tu voudras. Mais au matin ne me reveille, Et ne m'oste quand je sommeille Ma Cassandre d'entre mes bras.

Quiet, chattering swallow Quiet, chattering swallow, or if I get my hands on you I'll tear the feathers from your wing or cut out your tongue. In the morning, your endless cackling makes my head turn. You can sing all day, all evening, all night in m y chimney if you want, but in the morning don't wake me when I'm dozing with my Cassandra in my arms.

4. Dieu vous gard Dieu vous gard', messagers fidles Du Printemps, gentes hirondelles, Huppes, coucous, rossignolets, Tourtres, et vous oiseaux sauvages Qui de cent sortes de ramages Animez les bois verdelets. Dieu vous gard', belles pquerettes, Belles roses, belles fleurettes, Et vous b outons jadis connus Du sang d'Ajax et de Narcisse, Et vous thym, anis et m lisse, Vous soyez les bien revenus. Dieu vous gard', troupe diapre Des papillons, qui par la pre Les douces herbes suotez; Et vous, nouvel essaim d'abeilles, Qui les fleurs jaunes et vermeilles De votre bouche baisotez. Cent mille fois je resalue Votre belle et douce venue. que j'aime cette saison Et ce doux caquet des rivages, Au prix des vents et des orages Qui m'enfermaient en la maison!

God keep you God be with you, faithful messengers of Spring, swallows, hoopoes, cuckoos, little nightingales, turtledoves and wild birds who make the greenwood lively with a hundred sorts of warbles. God be with you, lovely daisies, beautiful roses, pretty little flowers, and you buds, once known as the b lood of Ajax and Narcissus. And you thyme, anise, wild cherry. Welcome back. God be with you, multi-coloured troop of butterflies sucking the sweet grasses of the field, and you, new swarm of bees kissing the yellow and red flowers. A hundred thousand times I salute your sweet return. Oh, how I love this season and the sweet cackling on the banks after the winds and storms that have kept me shut in the house!

American Folk Songs & Spirituals

Much of a classical vocalists time is spent learning repertoire and languages from other countries. This was especially true for m e during the first part of my undergraduate studies. Then my teacher said something in vocal studio that has stuck with me ever since: All of these songs and languages are important for you to learn, but dont forget to sing songs from your own country. Since then I have done m y best to learn and perform American song whenever I have the opportunity.

A more recent event has magnified my feelings on this subject. I recently sang the national anthem at a naturalization ceremony, where foreign people take an oath and become U.S. citizens. It caused me to ponder upon the blessings of living in this wonderful country, and further, upon all the blessings God has given me. With this on my mind, I set out to find songs for this recital that expressed my sentiments on these topics. Im happy to say that I found two wonderful genres of song that both glorify God and are uniquely American: Folk Hymns and African-American Spirituals. I hope you enjoy them.

Arias and Barcarolles

Leonard Bernstein (1918-1990)
In 1960, Leonard Bernstein performed at the W hite House, and President Eisenhower said, "You know, I liked that last piece you played; it's got a theme. I like music with a theme, not all them arias and barcarolles." Almost 30 years later, Bernstein premiered this song cycle, which he titled, Arias and Barcarolles. The cycle has a theme, but not exactly a musical one. It is love, in all its simple and complicated and fantastic and frustrating forms. The music varies greatly in style, from twelve-tone technique to scat and jazz to klezmer. (Historically, klezmer is a style of m usic or musicians that played at a Jewish wedding.) (Much of the following information is taken from a 1998 Doctoral Dissertation by Richard Patrick Evans: Autobiography in the Arias and Barcarolles of Leonard Bernstein.) Some say this is Bernsteins m ost autobiographical work: "As the final and perhaps most intensely personal work of the composer, Arias and Barcarolles draws on much of his life experience and provides important musical and textual expressions of his inner and outer struggles" (Evans 73). Each movement except the prelude is dedicated to an important person in his life. We have included a little background information about each piece and hope that it will help you gain a small glimpse into his thoughts and life experiences.

I. Prelude The simple vocal line indicates love is being professed, but the accompaniment indicates that there is something m ore complicated, perhaps even bitter, underneath. II. Love Duet This song is a metaphor for the relationship between the two singers, and contains musical and textual metaphors for many of Bernsteins relationships. III. Little Smary This is Bernsteins remembrance of a bedtime story that his mother Jennie used to tell him when he was young. IV. The Love of My Life Finding the love of ones life is not a simple affair. V. Greeting This was originally written in response to the b irth of his second child and only son, Alexander. Amidst the tumult and frustration he often experienced in life, the miracle of childbirth was a brief moment of pure bliss. VI. Oif Mayn Khasneh (At My Wedding) Perhaps the boy fiddler (klezmer) in this song represents Bernstein enduring the criticisms and jealousy of the older musical establishment in his neighborhood, as well as of his father, who was originally against him becoming a musician. TRANSLATION: A jolly red-haired musician played at my wedding on a small, quiet fiddle. He played a lament, an old-fashioned, poignant song. Old musicians m arveled silently: Where did this redheaded youngster pick it up? After all, he lurks in villages night and day, playing at goyish, drunken brawls, and can barely speak two words of Hebrew. He sleeps on a hard couch and eats whatever he finds: A servant girl gives him radishes from her garden . . . But, it was a wonder, even a dream to look at him: Shoulders, head, nose and ear laughed magically in joy and sorrow; his thin bony face swelled with pride like a rising well. A young musician played at my wedding, lifting the guests from their seats, making their feet want to fly, their ears b ecoming pointed like spears; His fingers kissed and tore the fiddle, bit off pieces until it hurt, and pinched so that it drew blood, until the old ones pleaded: HAVE PITY! Original Yiddish poem by Yankev-Yitskhok Segal Translation by Grace Schulman, edited with the assistance of Susan Ganc

VII. Mr. and Mrs. Webb Say Goodnight This is a fictional conversation between dear friends of Bernstein: Charles Webb (the Dean of the Indiana University School of Music), his wife Kenda, and their sons. The children, Malcolm and Kent (or in our case, Rachel and Grant) are introduced first, and are up very late playing and making up songs. After Kenda gets them to stop, she and Charles engage in pillow-talk that sometimes is very one-sided. Charles eventually brings up his memory of how they first met. Its obvious that he sees this memory through rose-colored glasses (i.e. her pink dress and his ability to dance like Fred Astaire), but perhaps this is evidence of the transforming power of love, which in most cases, is genuinely blind. VIII. Nachspiel Bernstein adapted this piece several times from its inception, which was originally a present to his mother Jennie for her eighty-eighth birthday. It was called First Love and compares two of Bernsteins great loves: My First Love, Jennie B., Eighty-eight, young to me. My second love is eighty-eight, too. Eighty-eight keys that sing to you . . . (Interlude) Thus do I dedicate Eighty-eight To my first two loves.

Many thanks to our family, colleagues, and dear friends for their love and support in helping us to live our dreams. Wed like to express a special thanks to Kathy Kaun, Stephen King, and Grant Loehnig. Please join us for a reception in room 1401 following the recital.