Art Song Festival Program 2023

Lindsey Christiansen Art Song Festival 2023

Heimatland

with

Saturday, February 25 7:30 p.m.

Gill Memorial Chapel

Lydia Brown, piano

I. European Influences

Vergebliches Ständchen Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)

Sienna Grinwald-Alves, soprano

Waldeinsamkeit (Gestern Abend in der stillen Ruh) Max Reger (1873-1916)

Ashley Reinhardt, soprano

Von waldbekränzter Höhe Brahms

Maryrose Canevari, soprano

Bedeckt mich mit Blumen Hugo Wolf (1860-1903)

Summer Rae Kuhns, soprano

Zueignung

David Helmer, tenor

II. Fables & Folklore

Richard Strauss (1864-1949)

My Old Kentucky Home Stephen Foster (1826-1864)

Gregory Robert Nappa, baritone

from Des Knaben Wunderhorn

Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen

Sienna Grinwald-Alves, soprano

Rheinlegendchen

Gregory Robert Nappa, baritone

Gustav Mahler (1860-1911)

Volkslied Reger

Ashley Reinhardt, soprano

from Old American Songs

Aaron Copand The Little Horses (1900-1990) At the River

Abigail Bohn, soprano

III. Cabaret

from Brettl Lieder Arnold Schoenberg

Galathea (1874-1951)

Sienna Grinwald-Alves, soprano

Wie lange noch

Berlin im Licht

from Die Dreigroschenoper

Abigail Bohn, soprano

Ashley Reinhardt, soprano

Die Moritat vom Räuber Mackie Messer

Gregory Robert Napa, baritone

Surabaya Johnny

In the mornin’

Down East

Summer Rae Kuhns, soprano – Intermission –

IV. Tunes from Long Ago

Maryrose Canevari, soprano

Sienna Grinwald-Alves, soprano

The Things our Fathers Loved

Summer Rae Kuhns, soprano

Kurt Weill (1900-1950)

The Greatest Man

David Helmer, tenor

Charles Ives (1874-1954)

Ilmenau

Ashley Reinhardt, soprano

Circus Band

Gregory Robert Napa, baritone

V. American Female Voices

The Secret Amy Beach (1967-1944)

Sienna Grinwald-Alves, soprano

Ruth Crawford Seeger White Moon (1901-1953)

Home Thoughts

Maryrose Canevari, soprano

Night

Ashley Reinhardt, soprano

Florence Price (1927-1953)

I send my heart up to thee Beach

David Helmer, tenor

VI. Tin Pan Alley

from One Touch of Venus Weill That’s Him

Maryrose Canevari, soprano

Just another Rhumba

Summer Rae Kuhns, soprano

George Gershwin (1898-1937)

from Showboat

Jerome Kern Bill (1885-1945)

Abigail Bohn, soprano

from Lady in the Dark Weill Tschaikovsky (and other Russians)

David Helmer, tenor

Texts and Translations

I. European Influences

Vergebliches Ständchen (Niederrheinisches Volkslied)

Anon.

Er: Guten Abend, mein Schatz, Guten Abend, mein Kind!

Ich komm’ aus Lieb’ zu dir, Ach, mach’ mir auf die Tür, Mach’ mir auf die Tür!

Sie: Mein’ Tür ist verschlossen, Ich lass’ dich nicht ein; Mutter, die rät’ mir klug, Wär’st du herein mit Fug, Wär’s mit mir vorbei!

Er: So kalt ist die Nacht, So eisig der Wind, Dass mir das Herz erfriert, Mein’ Lieb’ erlöschen wird; Öffne mir, mein Kind!

Sie: Löschet dein’ Lieb’; Lass’ sie löschen nur!

Löschet sie immerzu, Geh’ heim zu Bett, zur Ruh’! Gute Nacht, mein Knab’!

Waldeinsamkeit (Folk Song)

Gestern abend in der stillen Ruh', Sah ich im Wald einer Amsel zu; Als ich da so saß, Meiner ganz vergaß: Kommt mein Schatz und schleichet sich um mich Und küsset mich.

Vain Serenade (Lower Rhein Folk Song)

He: Good evening, my sweetheart, Good evening, my child! I come because I love you; Ah! Open up your door to me, Open up your door!

She: My door’s locked, I won’t let you in; Mother gave me good advice If you were allowed in, All would be over with me!

He: The night’s so cold, The wind’s so icy, My heart is freezing, My love will go out; Open up, my child!

She: If your love goes out, Then let it go out! If it keeps going out, Then go home to bed and go to sleep! Goodnight, my lad!

Solitude in the Woods

Yesterday evening in the peaceful stillness, I saw a blackbird in the wood; as I sat there, forgetful of myself, my darling snuck over and crept around me and kissed me.

So viel Laub als an der Linden ist Und so viel tausendmal hat mich mein Schatz geküßt; Denn ich muß gesteh'n, Es hat's niemand geseh'n, Und die Amsel soll mein Zeuge sein: Wir war'n allein.

Von waldbekränzter Höhe

(Georg Friedrich Daumer)

Von waldbekränzter Höhe Werf ich den heißen Blick Der liebefeuchten Sehe

Zur Flur, die dich umgrünt, zurück

Ich senk ihn auf die Quelle, Vermöcht ich, ach, mit ihr Zu fließen eine Welle, Zurück, o Freund, zu dir, zu dir!

Ich richt’ ihn auf die Züge Der Wolken über mir, Ach, flög’ ich ihre Flüge, Zurück, o Freund, zu dir, zu dir!

Wie wollt ich dich umstricken, Mein Heil und meine Pein, Mit Lippen und mit Blicken, Mit Busen, Herz und Seele dein!

Bedeckt mich mit blumen

(Emmanuel Geibel)

Bedeckt mich mit blumen

Ich sterbe vor Liebe

Dass die luft mit leisem Wehen nicht den süssen Duft mir entführe, bedeckt mich!

For every leaf upon the linden, a thousand times my darling kissed me; I must confess, there was no one about to see, and the blackbird will be my witness: We were alone.

From the forest-crowned heights From-the forest-crowned heights

I cast an ardent gaze of-my love-moist eyesight back to the meadow that grows green about you.

I lower my gaze to the stream, could I only, ah, with the stream flow as a wave back to you, oh friend, to you!

I direct my gaze to the movement of-the clouds above me, ah, could I but join their flight back to you, oh friend, to you!

How I want to envelop your heart and soul, in my refuge and my pain, with lips and with glances, with bosom, heart and soul yours!

Covered with Flowers

Covered with flowers

I die before love

That which by quiet air Blows the sweetest fragrance that takes me away, covers me

Ist ja alles doch dasselbe, Liebesodem oder Düfte von blumen

Yes, everything is the same, Breath of love or scents from flowers.

Please turn page quietly

von Jasmin und weißen Lilien

Sollt ihr hier mir grab bereiten, Ich sterbe

und befragt ihr mich: Woran?

Sag’ ich: Unter süssen Qualen vor Liebe.

Zueignung (Hermann von Glim)

Ja, du weißt es, teure Seele, Daß ich fern von dir mich quäle, Liebe macht die Herzen krank, Habe Dank.

Einst hielt ich, der Freiheit Zecher, Hoch den Amethysten-Becher, Und du segnetest den Trank, Habe Dank.

Und beschworst darin die Bösen, Bis ich, was ich nie gewesen, Heilig, heilig an’s Herz dir sank, Habe Dank!

II. Fables & Folklore

My Old Kentucky Home (Stephen Foster)

Verse 1:

Of Jasmine and white Lilies. Here you should prepare my grave, I am dying

and you ask me: of what?

Below that which sweetens pain with love.

Dedication

Yes, dear soul, you know That I’m in far from you, Love makes heart sick Be thanked.

Once, reveling in freedom, I held the amethyst cup aloft And you blessed that draught Be thanked.

And you banished the evil spirits, Till I, as never before, Holy, sank holy upon your heart Be thanked!

The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home, ‘Tis summer, the people are gay; The corn-top’s ripe and the meadow’s in the bloom, While the birds make music all the day.

The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, All merry, all happy and bright; By ‘n’ by Hard Times comes a-knocking at the door, Then my old Kentucky home, goodnight.

Chorus:

Weep no more my lady

Oh! weep no more today!

We will sing one song for the old Kentucky home, For the Old Kentucky Home far away.

Verse 2:

They hunt no more for the possum and the coon, On meadow, the hill and the shore, They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon, On the bench by the old cabin door. The day goes by like a shadow o’er the heart, With sorrow, where all was delight, The time has come when the people have to part, Then my old Kentucky home, goodnight.

Verse 3:

The head must bow and the back will have to bend, Wherever the people may go; A few more days, and the trouble all will end, In the field where the sugar-canes grow; A few more days for to tote the weary load, No matter, ’twill never be light; A few more days till we totter on the road, Then my old Kentucky home, goodnight.

Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen (Anon.)

Wer ist denn draußen und wer klopfet an, Der mich so leise, so leise wecken kann? Das ist der Herzallerliebste dein, Steh auf und laß mich zu dir ein!

Was soll ich hier nun länger stehn? Ich seh die Morgenröt aufgehn, Die Morgenröt, zwei helle Stern, Bei meinem Schatz, da wär ich gern, bei meiner Herzallerliebsten.

Das Mädchen stand auf und ließ ihn ein; Sie heißt ihn auch wilkommen sein. Willkommen, lieber Knabe mein, So lang hast du gestanden!

Sie reicht ihm auch die schneeweiße Hand. Von ferne sang die Nachtigall

Das Mädchen fing zu weinen an.

Ach weine nicht, du Liebste mein, Aufs Jahr sollst du mein eigen sein. Mein Eigen sollst du werden gewiß, Wie’s keine sonst auf Erden ist. O Lieb auf grüner Erden.

Where the splendid trumpets sound

Who stands outside and knocks at my door, Waking me so gently?

It is your own true dearest love, Arise, and let me in.

Why leave me waiting here longer?

I see rosy dawn appear, The rosy dawn and two bright stars. I long to be beside my love, Beside my dearest love.

The girl arose and let him in, She bids him welcome too. O welcome, dearest love of mine, Too long have you been waiting.

She gives to him her snow-white hand, From far off sang the nightingale, The girl began to weep.

Ah, do not weep, my dearest love, Within a year you shall be mine, You shall be mine most certainly, As no one else on earth. Ich zieh in Krieg auf grüner Heid,

Die grüne Heide, die ist so weit. Allwo dort die schönen Trompeten blasen, Da ist mein Haus, von grünem Rasen.

O love upon the green earth. I’m going to war, to the green heath, The green heath so far away. There where the splendid trumpets sound, There is my home of green turf.

Rheinlegendchen (Anon.)

Bald gras ich am Neckar, Bald gras ich am Rhein, Bald hab ich ein Schätzel, Bald bin ich allein.

Was hilft mir das Grasen, Wenn d'Sichel nicht schneidt, Was hilft mir ein Schätzel, Wenn's bei mir nicht bleibt.

So soll ich denn grasen

Am Neckar, am Rhein, So werf ich mein goldenes Ringlein hinein.

Es fließet im Neckar

Und fließet im Rhein, Soll schwimmen hinunter

Ins Meer tief hinein.

Und schwimmt es das Ringlein, So frißt es ein Fisch, Das Fischlein soll kommen

Aufs Königs sein Tisch!

Der König tät fragen, Wems Ringlein sollt sein? Da tät mein Schatz sagen, Das Ringlein g'hört mein.

Mein Schätzlein tät springen, Berg auf und Berg ein, Tät mir wiedrum bringen Das Goldringlein fein.

Kannst grasen am Neckar, Kannst grasen am Rhein, Wirf du mir nur immer

Dein Ringlein hinein.

Little Rhine Legend

I mow by the Neckar, I mow by the Rhine; At times I’ve a sweetheart, At times I’m alone.

What use is mowing, If the sickle won’t cut, What use is a sweetheart, If she’ll not stay.

So if I’m to mow

By the Neckar, and Rhine, I’ll throw in their waters My little gold ring.

It’ll flow in the Neckar

And flow in the Rhine, And float right away To the depths of the sea.

And floating, the ring Will be gulped by a fish, The fish will be served At the King’s own table.

The King will enquire Whose ring it might be; My sweetheart will say The ring belongs to me.

My sweetheart will bound Over hill, over dale, And bring back to me My little gold ring.

You can mow by the Neckar And mow by the Rhine, If you’ll always keep throwing Your ring in for me

Volkslied (Anna Ritter)

Ein Vöglein singt im Wald, Singt Lieb’ und Leiden, Ich weine für mich hin, Du willst ja scheiden.

Viel Rosen blühen rot, Ich pflücke keine, Brauch weder Schmuck noch Zier, So ganz alleine.

Hab’ dich so lieb gehabt, Und willst doch wandern, Suchst nun dein Fröhlichkeit, Dein Glück bei Andern.

The Little Horses (Traditional)

Hush you bye, Don’t you cry, Go to sleepy little baby.

When you wake, You shall have, All the pretty little horses.

Blacks and bays, Dapples and grays, Coach and six-a little horses.

Blacks and bays, Dapples and grays, Coach and six-a little horses.

Hush you bye, Don’t you cry, Go to sleepy little baby. When you wake, You’ll have sweet cake and All the pretty little horses.

Folksong

A little bird sings in the forest, singing of love and suffering, I weep for myself, for you wish to leave me.

Many roses bloom red, I do not pick any of them, I need not for jewels or adornments, All alone.

I had loved you so much, And wished but wondered, If you are searching for happiness With someone else.

A brown and gray and a black and a bay and a Coach and six-a little horses.

A black and a bay ad a brown and a gray and a Coach and six-a little horses.

Hush you bye, Don’t you cry, Oh you pretty little baby. Go to sleepy little baby. Oh you pretty little baby.

At the River

Shall we gather by the river, Where bright angel’s feet have trod, With its crystal tide forever Flowing by the throne of God?

Yes, we’ll gather by the river, The beautiful, the beautiful river, Gather with the saints by the river That flows by the throne of God.

Ere we reach the shining river Lay we every burden down, Praise our spirits will deliver And provide our robe and crown.

Yes, we’ll gather at the river. The beautiful, the beautiful, river. Gather with the saints at the river, That flows by the throne of God.

Soon we’ll reach the shining river, Soon our pilgrimage will cease, Soon our happy hearts will quiver With the melody of peace.

Yes, we’ll gather by the river, The beautiful, the beautiful river, Gather with the saints by the river That flows by the throne of God.

III. Cabaret

Galathea

(Frank Wedekind)

Ach, wie brenn’ ich vor Verlangen, Galathea, schönes Kind, Dir zu küssen deine Wangen, Weil sie so entzückend sind.

Galathea

Ah, how I’m burning with desire Galathea, lovely child, Just to kiss your cheeks, Because they’re so enchanting.

Wonne die mir widerfahre, Galathea, schönes Kind, Dir zu küssen deine Haare, Weil sie so verlockend sind.

Nimmer wehr’ mir bis ich ende, Galathea, schönes Kind, Dir zu küssen deine Hände, Weil sie so verlockend sind.

Ach, du ahnst nicht, wie ich glühe, Galathea, schönes Kind, Dir zu küssen deine Knie, Weil sie so verlockend sind.

Und was tät ich nicht, du Süße, Galathea, schönes Kind, Dir zu küssen deine Füße, Weil sie so verlockend sind.

Aber deinen Mund enthülle, Mädchen, meinen Küßen nie, Denn in seiner Reize Fülle, Küßt ihn nur die Phantasie.

Wie lange noch?

(Walther Mehring)

Ich will's dir gestehn, es war eine Nacht, da hab ich mich willig dir hingegeben, du hast mich gehabt, mich von Sinnen gebracht, ich glaubte, ich könnte nicht ohne dich leben.

Du hast mir das Blaue vom Himmel versprochen und ich habe dich wie 'nen Vater gepflegt. Du hast mich gemartert, hast mich zerbrochen.

Ich hätt dir die Erde zu Füssen geplagt.

Sieh mich doch an! Sieh mich doch an!

Wann kommt der Tag an dem ich dir sage: es ist vorbei!

Wann kommt der Tag, ach der tag nach dem ich bange. Wie lange noch? Wie lange noch? Wie lange?

The rapture that I feel, Galathea, lovely child, Just to kiss your tresses, Because they’re so enticing.

You do not sense how I burn, Galathea, lovely child, To kiss your knees, Because they’re so enticing.

And what wouldn’t I do, my sweet, Galathea, lovely child, To kiss your feet, Because they’re so enticing.

And what wouldn’t I do, my sweet, Galathea, lovely child, To kiss your feet, Because they’re so enticing.

But never expose your lips, Sweet girl, to my kisses, For the fullness of their charms Can only be kissed in fantasy.

How much longer?

I want to confess to you, that was a night when I willingly gave myself to you, you have had me, you took my senses, I believed that I could not live without you.

You have promised me the blue of the heavens and I have cared for you as I would for a father.

You have tortured me, you have torn me apart. I would have placed the earth at your feet.

Look at me! Look at me! When comes the day on which I tell you: it is over!

When comes the day, ah the day that I fear. How much longer? How much longer? How long?

Please turn page quietly

Ich hab dir geglaubt, ich war wie im Wahn, von all deinen Reden, von deinen Schwüren. Was immer du wolltest, das hab ich getan. Wohin du auch wolltest, da liess ich mich führen.

Du hast mir das Blaue vom Himmel versprochen und ich! Ach ich hab' nicht zu weinen gewagt. Doch du hast dein Wort, diene Schwüre gebrochen. Ich habe geschwiegen und hab mich geplagt.

Sieh mich doch an! Sieh mich doch an!

Wann kommt der Tag an dem ich dir sage: es ist vorbei!

Wann kommt der Tag, ach der tag nach dem ich bange.

Wie lange noch? Wie lange noch? Wie lange?

Berlin im Licht (Kurt Weill)

Und zum Spazierengehen genügt das Sonnenlicht. Doch um die Stadt Berlin zu sehn, genügt die Sonne nicht, das ist kein lauschiges Plätzchen, das ist 'ne ziemliche Stadt.

Damit man da alles gut sehen kann, da braucht man schon einige Watt. Na wat denn? Na wat denn? Was ist das für 'ne Stadt denn?

Komm, mach mal Licht, damit man sehn kann, ob was da ist, komm, mach mal Licht, und rede nun mal nicht.

Komm, mach mal Licht, dann wollen wir doch auch mal sehen, ob da 'ne Sache ist: Berlin im Licht.

I believed you, I was in a delusion from all your talk, from all your vows. Whatever you wanted, I did. Wherever you wanted to go, I let myself be led.

You have promised me the blue of the heavens, and I! Ach I have not dared to cry. But you have broken your word, your vows.

I have been silent, and tormented myself.

Look at me! Look at me! When comes the day on which I tell you: it is over! When comes the day, ah the day that I fear. How much longer? How much longer? How long?

Berlin in Lights

And when you go for a stroll the light of the sun may be enough. But to light the city of Berlin, the sun will not suffice, this is not some small cozy village, It is quite the city. If you want to see all that you can, You will need a few watts. So what then? So what then? What kind of city is it, then?

Come then, turn on the lights, so we can see all that we can see, Come then, turn on the lights, And don’t say another word. Come then, turn on the lights, so that we can see what it is with certainty, to see what it is: Berlin in Lights.

Die Moritat von Mackie Messer (Bertolt Brecht)

Und der Haifisch, der hat Zähne

Und die trägt er im Gesicht

Und MacHeath, der hat ein Messer

Doch das Messer sieht man nicht

An 'nem schönen blauen Sonntag

Liegt ein toter Mann am Strand

Und ein Mensch geht um die Ecke, Den man Mackie Messer nennt

Und Schmul Meier bleibt verschwunden

Und so mancher reiche Mann

Und sein Geld hat Mackie Messer

Dem man nichts beweisen kann

Jenny Towler ward gefunden

Mit 'nem Messer in der Brust

Und am Kai geht Mackie Messer, Der von allem nichts gewußt

Und das große Feuer in Soho

Sieben Kinder und ein Greis

In der Menge Mackie Messer, den Man nicht fragt und der nichts weiß

Und die minderjährige Witwe

Deren Namen jeder weiß

Wachte auf und war geschändet Mackie, welches war dein Preis

Und nun kommt zum guten Ende alles unter einen Hut

Ist das nötige Geld vorhanden, ist das Ende meistens gut.

Surabaya Johnny (Brecht)

I had just turned sixteen that season

When you came up from Burma to stay

And you told me I ought to travel with you

You were sure it would be okay

When I asked how you earned your living

I can still hear what you said to me

Ballad of Mack the Knife

And the shark, he has teeth

And he wears them in his face

And MacHeath, he has a knife

But the knife you don't see.

On a beautiful blue Sunday

Lies a dead man on the Strand*

And a man goes around the corner Whom they call Mack the Knife.

And Schmul Meier is missing

And many a rich man

And his money has Mack the Knife, On whom they can't pin anything.

Jenny Towler was found with a knife in her chest, and down on the Embankment there's Mack the Knife, who knows nothing of any of it.

And the great fire in Soho, seven children and an old man. In the crowd, Mack the Knife, whom one asks nothing, and who knows nothing.

And the minor-aged widow, Whose name everyone knows, Woke up and was violated Mack, what was your price?

Now, here's the happy ending, everything reconciled. If the readies are to hand, the ending is generally good.

You had some kind of job on the railway

And had nothing to do with the sea

You said a lot, Johnny

All one big lie, Johnny

You cheated me blind, Johnny

From the minute we met

I hate you so, Johnny

When you stand there grinning, Johnny

Take that damn pipe out of your mouth, you rat

Surabaya Johnny

No one's meaner than you

Surabaya Johnny

My God, and I still love you so

Surabaya Johnny

Why'm I feeling so blue?

You have no heart, Johnny

And I still love you so

At the start, every day was Sunday

'Til we went on our way one fine night

And before two more weeks were over You thought nothing I did was right

So we trekked up and down through the Punjab

From the source of the river to the sea

When I look at my face in the mirror

There's an old woman staring back at me

You didn't want love, Johnny

You wanted cash, Johnny

But I saw your lips, Johnny

And that was that

You wanted it all, Johnny

I gave you more, Johnny

Take that damn pipe out of your mouth, you rat

Surabaya Johnny

No one's meaner than you

Surabaya Johnny

My God, and I still love you so

Surabaya Johnny

Why am I feeling so blue?

You have no heart, Johnny

And I still love you so

I would never have thought of asking

How you got that peculiar name

But from one end of the coast to the other

You were known everywhere we came

And one day in a two-bit flophouse

I'll wake up to the roar of the sea

And you'll leave without one word of warning

On a ship waiting down at the quay

You have no heart, Johnny!

You're just a louse, Johnny!

How could you go, Johnny

And leave me flat?

You're still my love, Johnny

Like the day we met, Johnny

Take that damn pipe out of your mouth, you rat

Surabaya Johnny

No one's meaner than you

Surabaya Johnny

My God, and I still love you so

Surabaya Johnny

Why am I feeling so blue?

You have no heart, Johnny

And I still love you so

IV. Tunes from Long Ago

In the mornin’ (anon.)

In the mornin’ when I rise, In the mornin’ when I rise, In the mornin’ when I rise,

Give me Jesus!

Give me Jesus!

Give me Jesus!

You can have all the world, but

Give me Jesus!

‘Twixt the cradle and the grave,

‘Twixt the cradle and the grave,

‘Twixt the cradle and the grave,

Give me Jesus!

Give me Jesus!

Give me Jesus!

You can have all the world, but Give me Jesus!

Down East

(Charles Ives)

Songs! Visions of my homeland, come with strains of childhood, Come with tunes we sang in school days and with songs from mother’s heart; Way down east in a village by the sea, stands an old, red farm house that watches o’er the lea; All that is best in me, lying deep in memory, draws my heart where I would be, nearer to thee.

Ev’ry Sunday morning, when the chores were almost done, from that little parlor sounds the old melodeon, “Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee,” With those strains a stronger hope comes nearer to me.

The Things Our Fathers Loved

(Charles Ives)

I think there must be a place in the soul all made of tunes, of tunes of long ago; I hear the organ on the Main Street corner, Aunt Sarah humming Gospels; Summer evenings, The village cornet band, playing in the square. The town’s Red, White and Blue, all Red, White and Blue; Now! Hear the words But they sing in my soul of the things our Fathers loved.

The Greatest Man

(Anne Collins)

My teacher said us boys should write about some great man, so I thought last night ‘n thought about heroes and men that had done great things, ‘n then I got to thinkin’ ’bout my pa; he ain’t a hero ‘r anything but pshaw! Say! He can ride the wildest hoss ‘n find minners near the moss down by the creek; ‘n he can swim ‘n fish, we ketched five new lights, me ‘n him! Dad’s some hunter too, Oh, my! Miss Molly Cottontail sure does fly. When he tromps through the fields ‘n brush! (Dad won’t kill a lark ‘r thrush.) Once when I was sick ‘n though his hands were rough he rubbed the pain right out. “That’s the stuff!” he said when I winked back the tears.

He never cried but once ‘n that was when my mother died. Ther’re lots o’ great men, George Washington ‘n Lee, but Dad’s got ’em all beat holler, seems to me!

Ilmenau

(Goethe)

Über allen Gipfeln

Ist Ruh', In allen Wipfeln

Spürest du Kaum einen Hauch; Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde. Warte nur, balde Ruhest du auch.

The Circus Band

(Charles Ives)

All summer long we boys dreamed ’bout circus joys!

Down Main Street comes the band, Oh! “Ain’t it a grand and glorious noise!

Horses are prancing, knights advancing Helmets gleaming, pennants streaming, Cleopatra’s on her throne!

That golden hair is all her own.

Where is the lady all in pink?

Last year she waved to me I think, Can she have died? Can! that! rot! She is passing but she sees me not.

V. American Female Voices

The Secret

(Jules, le comte de Rességuier)

Tell me, what is the secret

They harp, sole companion, In the twilight confides to thee?

Over all the Treetops

Over all the peaks is rest, In all the treetops you feel barely a trace; The little birds are silent in the forest. Just wait, soon you will rest with me.

Tell me if from thy heart, its depths revealing, Comes a sigh of love for me?

If they inmost thought, thy awakened soul, Doth fear or hope, courage keeping, If the strings ‘neath thy hand are moistened with tears, And if thou singest while weeping?

Ah! Tell me if at a chord, or a note soft and tender, Thy gentle heart is grieving; Please turn page quietly

If the voice of an absent one doth murmur fondly, Ff thou respondest, believing?

But no, naught to me say, but sigh and sing while weeping, Keep thy secret from me.

If thou to me dost tell loving thee must I die Of despair of deep despair, Or of rapture for thee!

Ah!

White Moon (Carl Sandburg)

White Moon comes in on a baby face. The shafts across her bed are flimmering. Out on the land White Moon shines, Shines and glimmers against gnarled shadows, All silver to slow twisted shadows

Falling across the long road that runs from the house. Keep a little of your beauty

And some of your flimmering silver

For her by the window tonight

Where you come in, White Moon.

Home Thoughts (Sandburg)

The sea rocks have a green moss. The pine rocks have red berries. I have memories of you.

Speak to me of how you miss me. Tell me the hours go long and slow.

Speak to me of the drag on your heart, The iron drag of the long days.

I know hours empty as a beggar's tin cup on a rainy day, empty as a soldier's sleeve with an arm lost.

Speak to me . . .

Night (Louise C. Wallace)

Night comes, a Madonna clad in scented blue.

Rose red her mouth and deep her eyes, She lights her stars, and turns to where, Beneath her silver lamp the moon, Upon a couch of shadow lies

A dreamy child, The wearied Day.

I Send My Heart Up To Thee

(Robert Browning)

I send my heart up to thee, all my heart

In this my singing,

For the stars help me, and the sea, and the sea bears part;

The very night is clinging

Closer to Venice’ streets to leave on space

Above me, whence thy face

May light my joyous heart to thee, to thee its dwelling place.

VI. Tin Pan Alley

That’s Him

(Ogden Nash)

You know the way you feel when there is autumn in the air

That's him, that's him

The way you feel when Antoine has finished with your hair

That's him, that's him

You know the way you feel when you smell bread baking

The way you feel when suddenly a tooth stops aching

Wonderful world, wonderful you

That's him, that's him

He is as simple as a swim in summer

Not arty, not actory

He's like a plumber when you need a plumber

He's satisfactory

You know the way you feel when you want to knock on wood

The way you feel when your heart is gone for good

Wonderful world, wonderful you

That's him

You can shuffle him with millions

Soldiers and civilians

I'd pick him out

In the darkest caves and hallways

I would know him always

Beyond a doubt

Identification comеs easily to me

Becausе that's he

You know the way you feel about the Rhapsody in Blue

That's him, that's him

The way you feel about a hat created just for you

That's him, that's him

You know the way you felt when you heard the peal

The way you feel that you really shouldn't feel

Wonderful world, wonderful you

That's him

Just Another Rhumba

(Ira Gershwin)

It happened to me

On a trip to the West Indies

Oh, I'm all at sea

Since that trip to the West Indies

I'm jittery

I'm twittery

I guess I'm done for, I guess I'm through

And it's something about which there's nothing anyone can do

It isn't love

It isn't money trouble

It's a very funny trouble:

It's just another rhumba

But it certainly has my numbah

So much so, that I can't eat or slumbah

Can you imagine anything dumbah?

Why did I have to plan a Vacation in Havana?

Why did I take that trip

That made me lose my grip?

Oh! That piece of music laid me low

There it goes again:

Just another rhumba

Which I heard only last Septumbah

I'm a wreck, why did I have to succumb-ah

Can you imagine anything dumbah?

Why did I have to succumb-ah

To that rhumba?

I'm the cucaracha

Who just went blah

And gave up swinging ha-cha

Ah!

At first it was divine-ah

But it turned out a Cuban Frankenstein-ah

Ah!It's got me by the throat-ah!

Oh, what's the antidote-ah?

Ah!

It brought me woe and strife-ah

Oh, where's a gun or knife-ah?

It's the rhumba that blighted my life

There it goes again

Just another rhumba

Which has got me under its thumb-ah

So much so, that I can't eat or slumbah

Can you imagine anything dumbah?

Why did I have to succumb-ah

To that rhumba?

Bill (Oscar Hammerstein)

I used to dream that I would discover

The perfect lover someday.

I knew I'd recognize him if ever

He came 'round my way.

I always used to fancy then

He'd be one of the God-like kind of men

With a giant brain and a noble head

Like the heroes bold

In the books I've read.

But along came Bill

Who's not the type at all, You'd meet him on the street

And never notice him. His form and face, His manly grace

Are not the kind that you Would find in a statue, And I can't explain,

It's surely not his brain

That makes me thrill -

I love him because he's wonderful, Because he's just my Bill.

He can't play golf or tennis or polo, Or sing a solo, or row.

He isn't half as handsome

As dozens of men that I know. He isn't tall or straight or slim

And he dresses far worse than Ted or Jim.

And I can't explain why he should be

Just the one, one man in the world for me.

He's just my Bill an ordinary man, He hasn't got a thing that I can brag about. And yet to be

Upon his knee

So comfy and roomy

Seems natural to me. Oh, I can't explain, It's surely not his brain

That makes me thrill -

I love him because he's - I don't know...

Because he's just my Bill.

Tschaikowsky (And Other Russians)

(Ira Gershwin)

Without the least excuse

Or the slightest provocation

May I fondly introduce, for your mental delectation

The names that always give me brain concussion, The names of those composers known as Russian.

There’s Malichevsky, Rubinstein, Arensky, and Tschaikowsky, Sapelnikoff, Dimitrieff, Tschrepnin, Kryjanowsky.

Godowsky, Arteiboucheff, Moniuzko, Akimenko. Solovieff, Prokofieff, Tiomkin, Korestchenko.

There’s Gönka, Winkler, Bonniansky, Rebikoff, Ilyinsky, There’s Medtner, Balakireff, Zolotareff and Kvoschinsky, And Sokokoff and Kopyloff, Dukelsky and Klenofsky, And Shostakovitsch Borodine, Gliere and Nowakofski. There’s Liadoff and Karganoff, Markievitch, Pantschenko And Dargomyzski, Stcherbatcheff, Scriabine, Vassilenko, Stravinsky, Rimskykorsakoff, Mussorgsky and Gretchaninoft and Glazounoff

And Caesar Cui, Knlinikoff, Rachmaninoff, Stravinsky and Gretchnanioff, Rumshinsky and Rachmaninoff.

I really have to stop, the subject has been dwelt upon enough!

Stravinsky, Gretchnaninoff, Kvoschinsky, Rachmaninoff!

I really have to stop because you all have undergone enough!

About the Artists

Pianist Lydia Brown, in duo recitals, chamber music, and opera, has worked with a large number of distinguished colleagues, among them Anton Belov, Courtenay Budd, Catherine Cho, Robert de Maine, Robert Gardner, Ruby Hughes, Jennifer Johnson Cano, Rich King, Elizabeth Larson, John Moore, Charlie Neidich, Jennifer Parker Harley, Marina Piccinini, Brenda Patterson, Ed Parks, Susanna Phillips, Robin Scott, Sarah Shafer, and Sarah Wolfson. After completing solo piano degrees at the Yale School of Music and the Eastman School, she received her Doctor of Musical Arts degree from the Juilliard School. Her principal teachers were Olga Radosavljevich, Nelita True, Peter Frankl, and Margo Garrett. Of special significance was a period of study at the Mozart Academy in Dobríš, Czech Republic.

After completing the Lindemann Young Artists Program in 2006 she became an Assistant Conductor at the Metropolitan Opera Company, also joining the Music Staff of the San Francisco Opera Company in 2011. In these positions she has worked closely with many distinguished conductors, among them Jiri Belohlavek, James Levine, Fabio Luisi, Andris Nelsons, Gianandrea Noseda, Seiji Ozawa, and Esa Pekka Salonen. These associations brought her to performances at the Schleswig-Holstein Musik Fest, the Académie musicale de Villecroze, and the Spoleto Festival.

Lydia Brown became Chair of Collaborative Piano at the Juilliard School in 2018. She held previous academic and conservatory teaching positions at Yale University and the Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music. Her other primary affiliation is with the Marlboro Music Festival and School, where she oversees the Vocal Program. She has enjoyed close associations with the Spoleto Festival and the Gotham Chamber Festival, and is a yearly faculty member at SongFest. Lydia maintains additional frequent associations with the Pro Musicis Foundation, Young Concert Artists, the Piatigorsky Foundation and Music from Marlboro. These have occasioned appearances at many of the world’s finest venues: Salle Cortot, Théâtre de Champs-Élysées, the Coolidge Auditorium at the Library of Congress, the Phillips Gallery, Neue Gallery NYC, Alice Tully Hall, Weill Hall, and the many sites visited by Music from Marlboro.

Recent music is a prime interest, including new song cycles by Renee Favand See, John Harbison, Richard Hundley, Libby Larsen, Paola Prestini, and David Sonenberg, U.S. premieres of Dusapin’s Faustus Last Night, Saariaho’s Émilie, and Picker’s Dolores Claiborne, and the NY premiere of Elliott Carter’s “What Next?” Lydia Brown has been a juror for the Naumburg International Vocal Competition, a mentor of the Duffy Institute for New Opera, and is the founder of the Cincinnati Chapter of Music for Food.

The present season, in addition to rejoining the Met Opera Staff for Madame Butterfly, includes recitals with oboist Hassan Anderson and flutist Julietta Curenton, a performance benefiting Music For Food in NYC, and the Music from Marlboro Tour with hornist Radovan Vlatkovic and tenor Myles Mykkanen.

Soprano Summer Rae Kuhns is a senior Voice Performance major. Roles sung at Westminster include Sandmann in Hänsel und Gretel and Cendrillon in Viardot’s Cendrillon. She won first place in the NJ NATS Competition and the Westminster Voice Awards in 2022. Summer is a student of Lauren Athey-Janka.

Abigail Bohn is a B.F.A Musical Theatre candidate at Rider University. Recent performances include Sheila in A Chorus Line, the Witch in Into the Woods, and Woman 3 in Working. She will sing in the ensemble of Kiss Me Kate at Rider this spring. She is a student of Kate Johnson.

Born and raised in Pawling, NY, soprano Maryrose Canevari is a senior Vocal Performance major. She sings in Westminster Choir and the Westminster Symphonic Choir. This spring, she is part of Westminster Opera Theatre’s production of Last Words featuring Evan Mack’s The Ghosts of Gatsby. Maryrose is a student of Rochelle Ellis.

Sienna Grinwald - Alves , soprano, is a junior Music Education major (studies with Christopher Arneson). Hometown: Barnegat, NJ. Upcoming Engagements: Westminster Opera Theatre; Zela ‘24 (Last Words; featuring The Ghosts of Gatsby). Past Engagements: Mag (Ballymore: Winners), Sandmann (Hänsel und Gretel), Cis (Albert Herring) with Princeton Symphony. Awards: 1st place, Westminster Voice Awards 2021-22; 1st place, The Turton Talent Show 2019.

David Helmer , tenor. is a senior Vocal Performance and Music Education major (studies with Christopher Arneson). Hometown: Boyertown, Pennsylvania. Past engagements: Le Prince (Cendrillon), Ferrando (Così fan tutte) with Westminster Opera Theatre; Chorus member (Madame Butterfly) with Berks Opera Company; 1st Place winner, Westminster Choir College Voice scholarship award 2021, Hughes scholarship award 2022.

Gregory Robert Nappa, tenor, is a Senior Bachelor of Arts in Music Major at Westminster Choir College. From an early age, Gregory has been participating in Honors Choirs at the Regional, State, and National level. In addition to ensemble singing, he enjoys broadening his musical understanding by performing in the music theater world. He is a student of Dr. Sean McCarther.

Ashley Reinhard, soprano, is a senior vocal performance major at Westminster Choir College. She studies under the tutelage of Amy Zorn and is a member of Westminster Choir and the Concert Handbell Choir. She was an ensemble member in last Fall’s opera Cendrillon, and was a featured soloist in the 30th anniversary of An Evening of Readings and Carols

The

Lindsey Christ ia nsen Art Song Festival

For decades Westminster Choir College has been a center for the study of Art Song, which has included an annual Art Song Festival. After she passed away in 2017, the Festival was named for Lindsey Christiansen to honor her life and legacy. Professor of Voice at Westminster Choir College for 40 years, from 1977 to 2017, and Chair of the Voice Department for 18 years, Professor Christiansen specialized in German Lieder and was a life-long student and lover of the music of Franz Schubert. She was an exceptional voice teacher and a demanding professor of song literature classes, where she instilled in countless students a love for song.

The Lindsey Christiansen Art Song Festival Fund was established to honor the life and legacy of Professor Lindsey Christiansen and sustains the study and performance of art song at Westminster Choir College.

Contributions can be sent to:

Westminster Choir College of Rider University

Attn: Art Song Festival

2083 Lawrenceville Road

Lawrenceville, NJ 08648

2023 LINDSEY CHRISTIANSEN ART SONG FESTIVAL COMMITTEE

Christopher Arneson, artistic advisor

Victoria Browers, producer & coordinator

Lydia Brown, artistic programming director

About Westminster Choir College

Located in Lawrenceville, New Jersey, Rider University is a private co-educational, student-centered university that emphasizes purposeful connections between academic study and real-world learning experience. Rider prepares graduates to thrive professionally, to be lifelong independent learners, and to be responsible citizens who embrace diversity, support the common good, and contribute meaningfully to the changing world in which they live and work.

The College of Arts and Sciences is dedicated to educating students for engaged citizenship, career success, and personal growth in a diverse and complex world. The college cultivates intellectual reflection, artistic creativity, and academic maturity by promoting both broad academic inquiry and in-depth disciplinary study, while nurturing effective and ethical applications of transferable critical skills. The College consists of four schools: the School of Humanities and Social Sciences, the School of Communication, Media, and Performing Arts, the School of Science, Technology, and Mathematics, and Westminster Choir College.

Culturally vibrant and historically rich, Westminster Choir College has a legacy of preparing students for thriving careers as well-rounded performers and musical leaders on concert stages, in schools, universities, and churches, and in professional and community organizations worldwide. Renowned for its tradition of choral excellence, the college is home to internationally recognized ensembles, including the Westminster Symphonic Choir, which has performed and recorded with virtually all of the major orchestras and conductors of our time. In addition to its choral legacy, Westminster is known as a center for excellence in musical pedagogy and performance.