Senior Voice Recital, Jordan Bell Souza 02-22-2024

SENIOR VOICE RECITAL

Jordan Bell Souza, soprano Mia Janosik, mezzo-soprano Monica Adams, piano

Thursday, February 22, 2024 7:30 pm Recital Hall

68TH PERFORMANCE OF 2023–24 ACADEMIC YEAR

FEBRUARY 22, 2024, 7:30 PM What Can We Poor Females Do? Z. 518 (1694; by 1945) Mia Janosik, mezzo-soprano Heidenröslein, D. 257, op. 3, no. 3 (1815) Abendstern, D. 806 (1824) S’altro che lacrime from La clemenza di Tito, K. 621 (1791)

Nuit d’étoiles (1880) L’âme évaporée from Two Romances (1885)

Henry Purcell (1659–1695) Benjamin Britten (1913–1976)

Franz Schubert (1798–1828)

Wolfgang Amadè Mozart (1756–1791) Claude Debussy (1862–1918)

Fantoches from Fêtes galantes (1891) Pause Three Cowboy Songs (1994) My Bucking Bronco Lift Me into Heaven Slowly Billy the Kid This recital is presented as a degree requirement for a Bachelor of Music in Music Education.

Jordan Bell Souza is a senior pursuing a Bachelor of Music degree in music education at University of the Pacific. She studies voice with Daniel Ebbers as an applied concentration. Next fall she hopes to continue at Pacific to earn her master's degree in music education in one year, after which she hopes to begin her career as a music teacher. She would like to thank her family, friends, and instructors for their unconditional support.

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Libby Larsen (b. 1950)

TEX TS AND TRANSL ATIONS Purcell/Britten: What Can We Poor Females Do? What can we poor females do When pressing, teasing lovers sue?

What can we poor females do?

Fate affords no other way, But denying or complying, And relenting, or consenting, Does alike our hopes betray.

—anonymous

Schubert: Heidenröslein

Rose on the Heath

Sah ein Knab’ ein Röslein stehn, Röslein auf der Heiden, War so jung und morgenschön, Lief er schnell es nah zu sehn, Sah’s mit vielen Freuden.

Röslein, Röslein, Röslein roth, Röslein auf der Heiden.

Passing lad a rose blossom spied, Blossom on the heath growing, Twas so fair and of youthful pride, Raced he fast to be near its side, Saw it with joy o’erflowing.

Blossom, blossom, blossom red, Blossom on the heath growing.

Knabe sprach: ich breche dich, Röslein auf der Heiden!

Röslein sprach: ich steche dich, Daß du ewig denkst an mich, Und ich will’s nicht leiden.

Röslein, Röslein, Röslein roth, Röslein auf der Heiden.

Said the lad: I shall pick thee, Blossom on the heath growing!

Blossom spoke: Then I’ll prick thee, That thou shalt ever think of me, And I’ll not be allowing.

Blossom, blossom, blossom red, Blossom on the heath growing.

Und der wilde Knabe brach ’s Röslein auf der Heiden; Röslein wehrte sich und stach, Half ihr doch kein Weh und Ach, Mußt’ es eben leiden.

Röslein, Röslein, Röslein roth, Röslein auf der Heiden.

—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

And the lusty lad did pick The blossom on the heath growing; Blossom, in defense, did prick, ’Twas, alas, but a harmless nick, Had to be allowed.

Blossom, blossom, blossom red, Blossom on the heath growing.

—trans. Walter Meyer

TEX TS AND TRANSL ATIONS Schubert: Abendstern

Evening Star

Was weilst du einsam an dem Himmel, O schöner Stern? und bist so mild; Warum entfernt das funkelnde Gewimmel Der Brüder sich von deinem Bild?

“Ich bin der Liebe treuer Stern, Sie halten sich von Liebe fern.”

Why do you linger alone in the sky, o beautiful star? and you are so mild; why does the sparkling crowd of your brothers shun your sight?

“I am the star of true love, and they keep far away from Love.”

So solltest du zu ihnen gehen, Bist du der Liebe, zaudre nicht!

Wer möchte denn dir widerstehen?

Du süßes eigensinnig Licht.

“Ich säe, schaue keinen Keim, Und bleibe trauernd still daheim.”

—Johann Baptist Mayrhofer

So you should go to them, if you are love; do not delay!

Who could then withstand you, you sweet but stubborn light?

“I sow, but see no shoot, and so I remain here, mournful and still.”

—trans. Emily Ezust

Mozart: S’altro che lacrime

If You Cannot Bestow

S’altro che làgrime per lui non tenti, tutto il tuo piangere non gioverà.

If you cannot bestow upon him anything but your tears, all of your weeping will be for naught.

A questa inutile pietà che senti oh, quanto è simile la crudeltà.

—Pietro Metastasio

To this useless pity you feel, O, how similar is outright cruelty!

—trans. Andrew Schneider

TEX TS AND TRANSL ATIONS Debussy: Nuit d’étoiles

Night of Stars

Nuit d’étoiles, sous tes voiles, sous ta brise et tes parfums, Triste lyre qui soupire, je rêve aux amours défunts.

Night of stars, beneath your veils, Beneath your breezes and your scents, A sad lyre that sighs, I dream of dead love.

La sereine mélancolie vient éclore au fond de mon coeur, Et j’entends l’âme de ma mie Tressaillir dans le bois rêveur.

The serene melancholy comes bursting In the depth of my heart, And I hear the soul of my love Tremble in the dreaming woods.

Je revois à notre fontaine tes regards bleus comme les cieux; Cette rose, c’est ton haleine, Et ces étoiles sont tes yeux.

—Théodore Faullin de Banville

I see again at our fountain Your gaze, blue as the sky; This rose, it is your breath, And these stars are your eyes.

—trans. Melissa Malde

Debussy: L'âme évaporée

The Vanishing Soul

L’âme évaporée et souffrante, L’âme douce, l’âme odorante Des lys divins que j’ai cueillis Dans le jardin de ta pensée, Où donc les vents l’ont-ils chassée, Cette âme adorable des lys?

The vanishing and suffering soul, The sweet soul, the fragrant soul Of divine lilies that I have picked In the garden of your thoughts, Where, then, have the winds chased it, This charming soul of the lilies?

N’est-il plus un parfum qui reste De la suavité céleste Des jours où tu m’enveloppais D’une vapeur surnaturelle, Faite d’espoir, d'amour fidèle, De béatitude et de paix?

—Paul Bourget

Is there no longer a perfume that remains Of the celestial sweetness Of the days when you enveloped me In a supernatural haze, Made of hope, of faithful love, Of bliss and of peace?

—trans. Korin Kormick

TEX TS AND TRANSL ATIONS Debussy: Fantoches

Puppets

Scaramouche et Pulcinella Qu’un mauvais dessein rassembla Gesticulent, noirs sous la lune.

Scaramouche and Pulcinella, brought together by some evil scheme gesticulate, black beneath the moon.

Cependant l’excellent docteur Bolonais cueille avec lenteur Des simples parmi l’herbe brune.

Meanwhile, the learned doctor from Bologna slowly gathers medicinal herbs in the brown grass.

Lors sa fille, piquant minois, Sous la charmille, en tapinois, Se glisse demi-nue, en quête

Then his sassy-faced daughter sneaks underneath the arbor half-naked, in quest

De son beau pirate espagnol Dont un amoureux rossignol Clame la détresse à tue-tête.

—Paul Verlaine

Of her handsome Spanish pirate, whose distress an amorous nightingale deafeningly proclaims.

—trans. Laura Claycomb and Peter Grunberg

Larsen: Three Cowboy Songs My Bucking Bronco My love is a rider, my love is a rider . . .

My true love is a rider wild broncos he breaks, though he promised to quit for my sake.

It’s one foot in the stirrup and the saddle put on with a swing and a jump he is mounted and gone.

The first time I met him it was early one spring a riding a bronco a high headed thing.

The next time I saw him ‘twas late in the fall a swinging the girls at Tomlinson’s ball.

He gave me some presents among them a ring the return that I gave him was a far better thing; A young maiden’s heart, I’d have you all know, that he won it by riding his bucking bronco.

Now all young maidens, where’re you reside, beware of the cowboy who swings rawhide, He’ll court you and pet you and leave you to go in the spring up the trail on his bucking bronco.

—Belle Starr

TEX TS AND TRANSL ATIONS Lift Me into Heaven Slowly Lift me into heaven slowly, cause my back’s sore and my mind’s thoughtful and I’m not even sure I want to go.

—Robert Creeley

Billy the Kid Billy was a bad man Carried a big gun, He was always after good folks And he kept them on the run.

He shot one every morning To make his morning meal.

Let a man sass him, He was sure to feel his steel.

He kept folks in hot water, Stole from ev’ry stage, When he was full of liquor He was always in a rage.

He kept things boilin’ over, he stayed out in the brush, when he was full of dead eye, other folks’ld better hush.

Billy was a bad man, but one day he met a man A whole lot badder and now he’s dead and we ain’t none the sadder.

—anonymous, Cowboy Songs and Other Frontier Ballads, collected by John A. Lomax, adapted by Libby Larsen

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Coming soon . . .

Feb. 24, 7:30 pm, Faye Spanos Concert Hall Pacific Wind Bands Vu Nguyen, conductor Mar. 1, 7:30 pm, Faye Spanos Concert Hall Pacific Jazz Ensemble Keith Brown, piano Mar. 5, 7:30 pm, Recital Hall Faculty Recital Sadie Glass, horn with Natalie Douglass Grana, horn

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