Taylor Malcolm, soprano, is a graduate student pursuing her Master of Music degree with an emphasis in Voice Performance and Pedagogy. She is set to graduate this semester and couldn’t be more thrilled to have completed this wonderful program. Performance credits while at UTSA include Elle in Francis Poulenc’s La voix humaine and Nannetta, “Sul fil d’un soffio estesio,” in UTSA’s The VERDI Project.
Taylor is a private voice instructor and is passionate about improving her craft. Pursuing this degree has made her a better performer, instructor, mentor, and colleague. She is looking forward to helping her students continue to shine their best.
Special Thanks
To John Nix,
Thank you for so many things. You have selflessly given me your time, energy, and patience, of which I am so appreciative. I would not be the singer, performer, and teacher that I am today without your guidance and support. Thank you for always encouraging me to chase after what scares me.
To Anna Hakobyan,
Thank you for always encouraging me to be a better musician. I am so grateful to have worked with an outstanding musician such as yourself. Thank you for always holding me to your standard of excellence.
To my professors and teachers,
Thank you for your encouragement and guidance. Thank you for always challenging me to learn, to dig deeper, and to remain curious.
To my friends and family,
Whether you checked in on me, said hi or gave an encouraging word, or offered up your listening ear, thank you for your support as I pursued one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I truly appreciate you.
To my husband,
I simply would not be here without you, as much as you insist that I would be. Thank you for being my biggest supporter, confidant, and very best friend. I am able to be the best version of myself because of you. I love you with all of my heart and soul.
Simple Little Things: A Graduate Recital
Taylor Malcolm, soprano
Anna Hakobyan, piano with special guests
Jesse Reece, guitar
Elisa Nivon, violin
Saturday, April 19, 2025 3:00 pm UTSA Recital Hall
Selections from Seguidillas Fernando Sor (1778-1839)
2. De amor en las prisiones
5. Cómo ha de resolverse
6. Muchacha, y la vergüenza
10. Si a otro quando me quieres
11. Las mujeres y cuerdas
7. Si dices que mis ojos
Die Kleine
Mausfallensprüchlein
Gleich und gleich
Elfenlied
Auch kleine Dinge Hugo Wolf (1860-1903)
O luce di quest’anima from Linda di Chamounix Gaetano Donizetti (1797-1848)
Fernando Sor (1778-1839) was a Spanish guitarist, pedagogue, and composer. Although he is best known for his excellent guitar skills and compositions for guitar, he also wrote various works for other instruments, including symphonies, piano music, and songs. A seguidilla is a type of poem, typically consisting of seven lines, though sometimes it can have only four. Seguidillas follow a strict meter where the lines alternate between seven and five syllables. You can see by reading the text below that the poet used elisions to their advantage to follow this meter. As these poems gained popularity, they began to be sung and danced to, evolving into boleros. Their popularity extended to France, where through modifications the genre became unrecognizable from its original form. These songs were composed before Sor left Spain in 1813 (between 1800 and 1808), aligning with the more authentic Spanish tradition. I am captivated by these short yet meaningful songs. Some are highly romantic, while others are humorous, but they all convey significant aspects of human emotion with just a few words.
All translations are by Brian Jeffery with some modifications made by me after consulting with my Spanish-speaking friends and colleagues.
earnest,humorous,honest
2. De amor en las prisiones
De amor en las prisiones
Gozosa vivo - ¡ay!
Y sus dulces cadenas
Beso y bendigo - ¡ay!
Y el verme libre
Más que el morir me fuera
Duro y sensible - ¡ay!
5. Cómo ha de resolverse
¿Cómo ha de resolverse
Para embarcarse
Aquel que desde lejos
Ve tempestades?
2. In Love’s prisons
In Love’s prisons I live happily - ay!
And its sweet chains I kiss and bless - ay!
And to see myself free would be harder and more painful for me than death - ay!
5. How can one resolve
How can one resolve to set sail
When from afar one sees storms?
6. Muchacha, y la vergüenza
Muchacha, y la vergüenza
¿Dónde se ha ido?
‘Las cucarachas, madre, Se la han comido.’
Muchacha, mientes.
Porque las cucarachas
No tienen dientes.
10. Si a otro cuando me quieres
Si a otro cuando me quieres
La mano le das,
Cuando ya no me quieras, ¡Di qué le darás!
No fuera mala
El que yo me muriera
Por un canalla.
11. Las mujeres y cuerdas
Las mujeres y cuerdas
De la guitarra, Es menester talento
Para templarlas.
Flojas no suenan, Y suelen saltar muchas
Si las aprietan.
7. Si dices que mis ojos
Si dices que mis ojos
Te dan la muerte, Confiésate y comulga,
Que voy a verte.
Porque yo creo
Me suceda lo mismo
Sino te veo.
6. Girl, and your shame
Girl, and your shame
Where has it gone?
‘The cockroaches, mother, They have eaten it.’
Girl, you lie.
Because cockroaches
Don’t have teeth.
10. If when you love me
If when you love me
You give someone else your hand,
When you no longer love me, What else will you give them!
It wouldn’t be bad
If I died
For a scoundrel.
11. Women and guitar strings
Women and guitar strings, You need talent to tune them.
If they’re slack they don’t sound, And they tend to jump If you tighten them.
7. If you say that my eyes
If you say that my eyes kill you,
Then make confession and take the sacrament, For I’m going to see you.
Because I believe
The same will happen to me
If I don’t see you.
Hugo Wolf (1860-1903) struggled for recognition as a composer for most of his life. He endured numerous episodes of depression that directly impacted his compositional output and reputation with critics. It wasn’t until later in his life, around 1888, that he developed his “true” style, resulting in the composition of over 200 songs between 1888 and 1897 Wolf was drawn to poetry and made it his goal to effectively convey the text through tonality, text painting, and form. Instead of writing strophic pieces like his predecessors Franz Schubert and Robert Schumann, Wolf tailored the form of his pieces to align with the mood of the poem.
I was struck with inspiration for this set of songs and eventually my entire recital theme after listening to Auch kleine Dinge (Even small things). Paul Heyse has beautifully said a sentiment I believe we all feel: the little things can impact us the most. Each song in my German set features a tiny someone or something: a young girl, mice, a bee and a flower, a sleepy elf. I hope this set makes you smile a little smile or let out a little laugh!
cute,lighthearted,endearing
Die Kleine
Zwischen Bergen, liebe Mutter, Weit den Wald entlang, Reiten da drei junge Jäger
Auf drei Rösslein blank, Lieb’ Mutter, Auf drei Rösslein blank.
Ihr könnt fröhlich sein, lieb Mutter, Wird es draussen still:
Kommt der Vater heim vom Walde, Küsst Euch, wie er will, Lieb’ Mutter, Küsst Euch, wie er will.
Und ich werfe mich in Bettchen Nachts ohn Unterlass, Kehr mich links und kehr mich rechts hin, Nirgends hab ich was, Lieb’ Mutter, Nirgends hab ich was.
The little one
Between mountains, dear mother, By the woodland ways, Three young hunters come riding by On three young gleaming steeds, Dear mother, On three young gleaming steeds.
You, dear mother, can be happy: When outside all falls quiet, When father comes home from the forest, He’ll kiss you to his heart’s content, Dear mother, He’ll kiss you to his heart’s content.
And I toss and turn in bed
All night long without respite, Roll to the left and roll to the right, Finding nothing anywhere, Dear mother, Finding nothing anywhere.
(continued on next page)
Die Kleine (continued)
Bin ich eine Frau erst einmal, In der Nacht dann still Wend ich mich nach allen Seiten, Küss, soviel ich will, Lieb’ Mutter, Küss, soviel ich will.
The little one (continued)
When I’ve once become a woman, In the night I’ll quietly turn Whichever way I wish, Kiss to my heart’s content, Dear mother, Kiss to my heart’s content.
Mausfallensprüchlein
Kleine Gäste, kleines Haus. Liebe Mäusin oder Maus, Stelle dich nur kecklich ein
Heute nacht bei Mondenschein!
Mach aber die Tür fein hinter dir zu, Hörst du?
Dabei hüte dein Schwänzchen!
Nach Tische singen wir, Nach Tische springen wir Und machen ein Tänzchen: Witt witt!
Meine alte Katze tanzt wahrscheinlich mit.
Mousetrap rhyme
Little guests, little house. Dear Mrs. or Mr. Mouse, Just drop boldly by Tonight in the moonlight! But be sure to close the door behind you, Do you hear? And watch out for your tail! After supper we’ll sing, After supper we’ll leap And dance a little dance; Witt witt!
My old cat might well dance with us too.
Gleich und gleich
Ein Blumenglöckchen
Vom Boden hervor War früh gesprosset
In lieblichem Flor; Da kam ein Bienchen Und naschte fein: -Die müssen wohl beide Für einander sein.
Like and like
A little flower-bell Had sprung up early From the ground In lovely blossom; Along came a little bee And sipped most daintily: -They must have been Made for each other.
Elfenlied
Bei Nacht im Dorf der Wächter rief: “Elfe!”
Ein ganz kleines Elfchen im Walde schlief –Wohl um die Elfe –Und meint, es rief ihm aus dem Tal Bei seinem Namen die Nachtigall, Oder Silpelit hätt ihm gerufen.
Reibt sich der Elf die Augen aus, Begibt sich vor sein Schneckenhaus, Und ist als wie ein trunken Mann, Sein Schläflein war nicht voll getan, Und humpelt also tippe tapp
Durchs Haselholz ins Tal hinab, Schlupft an der Mauer hin so dicht, Da sitzt der Glühwurm, Licht an Licht.
“Was sind das helle Fensterlein? Da drin wird eine Hochzeit sein: Die Kleinen sitzen beim Mahle, Und treibens in dem Saale; Da guck ich wohl ein wenig ’nein!”
Pfui! stösst den Kopf an harten Stein! Elfe, gelt, du hast genug?
Gukuk! Gukuk!
Auch kleine
Dinge
Auch kleine Dinge können uns entzücken, Auch kleine Dinge können teuer sein.
Bedenkt, wie gern wir uns mit Perlen schmücken; Sie werden schwer bezahlt und sind nur klein. Bedenkt, wie klein ist die Olivenfrucht, Und wird um ihre Güte doch gesucht. Denkt an die Rose nur, wie klein sie ist Und duftet doch so lieblich, wie ihr wisst.
Elf song
The village watch cried out at night: “Eleven!”
A very small elf was asleep in the wood –Just at eleven –And thinks the nightingale was calling Him by name from the valley, Or Silpelit had sent for him.
The elf rubs his eyes, Steps from his snail-shell home, Looking like a drunken man, Not having slept his fill, And hobbles down, tippety tap, Through the hazels to the valley, Slips right up against the wall, Where the glow-worm sits, shining bright.
“What bright windows are these? There must be a wedding inside: The little folk are sitting at the feast And skipping round the ballroom; I’ll take a little peek inside!”
Ouch! He hits his head on hard stone! Elf, don’t you think you’ve had enough? Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
Even small things
Even small things can delight us, Even small things can be precious. Think how gladly we deck ourselves with pearls; They fetch a great price but are only small. Think how small the olive is, And yet it is prized for its goodness. Think only of the rose, how small it is, And yet smells so lovely, as you know.
This aria is sung by the titular character Linda from the opera Linda di Chamounix by Gaetano Donizetti (1797-1848). Donizetti is best known for his operas that helped to define the bel canto style of the era. The bel canto style is particularly demanding for the Western classical singer; operatic arias from this period often include long legato phrases, melismatic sections requiring agility, variations on a returning melody, and chromatic and a capella ornamental cadenzas.
Linda, a woman from a small village, and Carlo, a penniless painter, are in love and wish to be married. Their family members have other plans for them which almost derails our happy ending, but in the end, love prevails. This aria takes place at the beginning of the opera. Linda and Carlo have decided to meet for a romantic rendezvous, but they have just missed each other. Linda arrives late and sees that Carlo has left her flowers, a small but powerful sign of his affection for her. She sings about her love for him and her dreams of a happy future together.
heartfelt,fervent,ecstatic
Ah! tardai troppo, e al nostro favorito convegno io non trovai il mio diletto Carlo; e chi sa mai quanto egli avrà sofferto!
Ma non al par di me! Pegno d’amore questi fior mi lasciò! tenero core!
E per quel core io l’amo, unico di lui bene.
Poveri entrambi siamo, viviam d’amor, di speme! pittore ignoto ancora egli s’innalzerà co’ suoi talenti!
Sarò sua sposa allora. Oh noi contenti!
O luce di quest’anima, delizia, amore e vita, la nostra sorte unita, in terra, in ciel sarà. Deh, vieni a me, riposati su questo cor che t’ama, che te sospira e brama, che per te sol vivrà.
Ah I delayed too long, and at our favorite meeting place I do not find my beloved Carlo; and who knows how much he will have suffered!
But not on par with me! A token of love, these flowers he left for me! Tender heart! And for that heart I love him, which is his only possession. Poor both we are, we live on love, on hope!
An unknown painter as of yet he will lift himself up with his talents! I will be his wife then.
Oh how happy we will be!
Oh light of this soul, delight, love and life, Our fate united, on earth, in heaven will be. Ah, come to me, rest yourself upon this heart that loves you. That longs and desires for you, That will live only for you.
FourFrenchsongs(TheSeasons)
Cécile Chaminade (1857-1944), Nadia Boulanger (1887-1979), and Amy Marcy Cheney Beach (18671944) were all incredible composers and pianists. Interestingly, even though these three women were born in different decades and countries, they might have heard of one another. Cécile Chaminade, born in France, went on highly successful concert tours in the United States in the 1920s. She played in major cities such as New York and Boston, the latter being none other than where Amy Beach spent her formative years. Is it possible that Beach attended one of Chaminade’s concerts? Nadia Boulanger likely knew of Chaminade from the Parisian music scene, despite Chaminade being born three decades earlier. Boulanger, a master teacher, likely would have heard of Beach after she traveled to the U.S. on a lecture, recital, and conducting tour. It’s simply a small world.
I was inspired to create a French set inspired by the seasons after falling in love with Chaminade's piece “L'été” (Summer), a piece that portrays the energy and excitement of the bright season. Boulanger perfectly captures the moodiness of autumn in “Versailles" and the duality of hard times and hopefulness that the winter season brings in “Soir d’hiver” (Winter night). I am especially moved by the young woman’s story in “Soir d’hiver,” knowing that Boulanger wrote the words herself. The set concludes with "Elle et moi" by Beach, a tribute to the herald of new beginnings, spring.
anticipatory,wistful,nostalgic
Ah! chantez, chantez, Folle fauvette, Gaie alouette,
Joyeux pinson, chantez, aimez!
Parfum des roses, Fraîches écloses,
Rendez nos bois, nos bois plus embaumés!
Ah! chantez, aimez!
Soleil qui dore
Les sycomores
Remplis d'essains tout bruisants,
Verse la joie, Que tout se noie
Dans tes rayons resplendissants.
(Ah! chantez, aimez …)
Ah! chantez, chantez, Souffle, qui passes
Dans les espaces
Semant l'espoir d'un jour d'été.
Que ton haleine
Donne à la plaine
Plus d'éclat et plus de beauté.
Ah! chantez, chantez!
Ah, sing, sing, Wild warbler, Happy lark, Joyous chaffinch, sing and love!
Scent of roses, Freshly released, Render our woods, our woods more fragrant! Ah! sing and love!
Sun that gilds the sycamores
Filled with swarms of buzzing bees, Pour out your joy, Let all drown in your resplendent rays.
(Ah! sing and love…)
Ah! sing, sing, Breeze that passes in the spaces
Sowing the hope of a summer day: Let your breath
Give to the meadow
More brilliance and more beauty. Ah! sing, sing!
(continued on next page)
Summer (continued) L’été (continued)
Dans la prairie
Calme et fleurie, Entendez-vous ces mots si doux.
L'âme charmée,
L'épouse aimée
Bénit le ciel près de l'époux! (Ah! chantez, aimez, …)
Versailles
In the prairie
Calm and flourishing, Do you hear the sweet words? The charmed soul, The beloved wife blesses heaven next to her husband! (Ah, sing and love!)
Ô Versailles, par cette après-midi fanée, Pourquoi ton souvenir m 'obsède-t-il ainsi?
Les ardeurs de l'été s'éloignent, et voici
Que s'incline vers nous la saison surannée.
Je veux revoir au long d'une calme journée
Tes eaux glauques que jonche un feuillage roussi, Et respirer encore, un soir d'or adouci, Ta beauté plus touchante au déclin de l'année.
Comme un grand lys tu meurs, noble et triste, sans bruit; Et ton onde épuisée au bord moisi des vasques
S'écoule, douce ainsi qu ' un sanglot dans la nuit
Versailles
Oh Versailles, on this faded afternoon, Why does your memory obsess me so?
The heat of summer is withdrawing, and now The faded season is bowing towards us.
I'd like to see you again, for a long calm day, Your murky waters strewn with russet leaves, And again breathe in, on a soft golden evening, Your beauty which is more touching as the year declines.
Like a great lily you die, noble and sad, without noise; And your exhausted waters on the basin’s mouldy edges Flows, as soft as a sob in the night
Une jeune femme berce son enfant. Elle est seule, elle pleure, mais elle chante, Car il faut bien qu'il entende la chanson douce et tendre pour qu'il s 'endorme.
"Voici Noël, mon petit enfant bleu. Les cloches sonneront pour que tu sois joyeux "
Celui qu 'elle aime est parti et la chanson s 'arrête!
Elle dit:
"Où est-il à cette heure? Entend-il ma voix? et sait-il que je vis?"
Winter night
A young woman rocks her child. She's alone, she weeps, but she sings, For it is necessary that he hears the sweet and tender song so he'll fall asleep.
"Christmas is here, my little blue child. The bells will ring, so that you can be joyful "
The man she loves has gone and the song stops! She says: "Where is he now? Does he hear my voice? and does he know that I'm alive?"
(continued on next page)
Winter night (continued) Soir d’hiver (continued)
Elle pleure si simplement que le cœur en a mal. Elle regarde son fils et cherche s'il ressemble à celui qu 'elle attend inlassablement, de toute son âme, de toute sa tendresse!
Elle pleure, mais elle espère! Elle entend de loin la Victoire, elle devine la lutte sans merci, mais elle croit à la Justice, elle sait que toute une vie s 'est donnée, joyeuse et fière, et elle attend, Auprès de ce berceau si petit, qui tient le cœur d'un homme.
Elle et moi
Le printemps aux mille couleurs, La flamme séduisante à la vive étincelle, Le troëne des champs avec ses blanches fleurs, Aux suaves odeurs, C'est elle! Ah! C'est elle!
L'hirondelle qui vole au devant du printemps, Le chevreau qui s 'attache au troëne des champs, Ah! Attiré par sa fleur, sa fleur si belle; Le papillon qui sans effroi Au flambeau va brûler son aile, Ah! C'est moi.
She weeps so simply that it makes her heart hurt. She gazes at her son and tries to see if he resembles the one for whom she waits untiringly, with all her soul, with all her tenderness!
She weeps, but she hopes! She hears Victory from afar, she guesses it's a thankless struggle, yet she believes in Justice, she knows that all one life has been given, joyful and proud, and she waits, Next to this tiny cradle, that holds a man ' s heart.
She and I
The spring with its thousand colors, The attractive flame of the sparkling weaver, The privet of the fields with its white flowers, With sweet fragrances, It’s her! Ah! It’s her!
The swallow that flies in advance of spring, The young goat that clings to the privet of the fields, Ah! Attracted by its flower, its flower so lovely; The butterfly without fear Goes into the flame to burn its wing, Ah! It’s me.
John W. Work (1901-1967) and Florence Price (1887-1953) were both prominent Black American composers, with Work based in Tennessee and Price in Chicago, Illinois Both composers masterfully combined American jazz and Western classical music elements, creating interesting and complex sonic landscapes in their pieces.
Similarly, Arthur Bliss (1891-1975) and Michael Head (1900-1976) were both British composers writing music around the same time. Despite walking in similar circles and social scenes, their compositional styles could not be more different. Bliss embraced modernism and an avant-garde style early in his career, while Head preferred to write in more traditional and romantic styles. You will hear the difference between their two styles demonstrated by the wild dissonance in The Buckle and the lilting melodies of The Singer.
Each of these pieces evokes a mystical quality. While Three Glimpses of Night by Work and Night by Price include personifications of night and day, Work creates a mysterious and exciting mood while Price entrances us with a serene and ethereal soundscape. The pieces by Bliss and Head both reference the fae, secretive and sometimes mischievous beings who intrigue the unsuspecting passerby.
odd,mysterious,curious
The Buckle
I had a silver buckle, I sewed it on my shoe, And 'neath a sprig of mistletoe I danced the evening through!
I had a bunch of cowslips, I hid ' em in a grot, In case the elves should come by night And me remember not.
I had a yellow riband, I tied it in my hair, That, walking in the garden, The birds might see it there.
I had a secret laughter, I laughed it near the wall: Only the ivy and the wind May tell of it at all.
Three Glimpses of Night
Night is a curious child, wandering
Between earth and sky, creeping
In windows and doors, daubing
The entire neighborhood
With purple paint.
Day
Is an apologetic mother
Cloth in hand
Following after.
Peddling
From door to door
Night sells
Black bags of peppermint stars
Heaping cones of vanilla moon
Until
His wares are gone
Then shuffles homeward
Jingling the gray coins
Of daybreak.
Night’s brittle song, sliver-thin
Shatters into a billion fragments
Of quiet shadows
At the blaring jazz
Of a morning sun.
Night
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.
The Singer
I met a singer on the hill, He wore a tattered cloak; His cap was torn, His shoes were worn, And dreamily he spoke.
Fa la la la la la
A wrinkled face, a cheery smile, and a nobby stick had he; His eyes were grey and far away And changeful as the sea, And changeful as the sea.
I offered him a piece of gold And hoped that he would stay. No word he spoke, But shook his head And smiled and went his way.
Fa la la la la la
I watched the singer down the hill, My eyes went following after, I thought I heard a fairy flute And the sound of fairy laughter,
Fa la la la la la…
SimpleLittleThingsfrom110intheShade
110 In the Shade with music by Harvey Schmidt (1929-2018) and lyrics by Tom Jones (19282023) is set in a small town in the southwestern United States in the 1930s. Lizzie Curry is an older woman who has yet to marry and dreams of finding a husband one day. She sings this song after being challenged to dream beyond her small town. She refuses, saying that her dreams of having love and a family, while small, are just as important as someone who wants travel, fame, and fortune. This piece reminds me that fulfillment comes in many forms, and each person must walk their own life path to discover what brings them joy.
The message of this piece is important to me, so I have changed some of the original lyrics to reflect a modern partnership and marked these lines with an asterisk. These changes might seem insignificant, but they have made a big difference to me and more accurately reflect what I want to express by singing this piece.
humble,pure,genuine
Not all dreams are great big dreams. Some people’s dreams are small. Not all dreams have to have a golden fleece, or any kind of fleece at all.
My dreams, like my name, are very plain; no shining knight must kneel. My dreams, like my name, are very plain; but nevertheless, they’re real. They’re all so very real.
Simple little things.
All I want are simple little things. All I need is someone beside me to have and to hold. Someone to love me as we grow older. Simple little things. Simple little dreams, will do.
Lizzie, thanks for pressing my suit.* Lizzie, would ya scratch between my shoulder blades?*
Lizzie, let’s put the children all in bed.* That’s what he’ll say, I’ll say: “My husband.”
Simple little things.
All I want are simple little things. All I need is someone beside me to have and to hold. Someone to love me as we grow older. Simple little things. Simple little dreams, will do.
