brad walker bass-baritone
artist diploma degree recital March 29, 2014 • Morse Recital Hall
Robert Blocker, Dean
Artist Diploma Degree Recital
brad walker bass-baritone Douglas Dickson, piano Saturday, March 29, 2014 • 5:00 pm • Morse Recital Hall
George Frideric Handel “Si, tra i ceppi,” from Berenice, HWV 38 1685–1759 Franz Schubert Selections from Schwanengesang, D. 957 1797–1828 Der Atlas Ihr Bild Das Fischermädchen Die Stadt Am Meer Der Doppelgänger Francis Poulenc 1899–1963
Le Bestiaire, ou le Cortège d’Orphée I. Le dromadaire II. La chèvre du Thibet III. La sauterelle IV. Le dauphin V. L’écrevisse VI. La carpe
Jacques Ibert 1890–1962
Chansons de Don Quichotte I. Chanson du depart II. Chanson à Dulcinée III. Chanson du Duc IV. Chanson de la Mort
This performance is in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Artist Diploma.
Antonio Salvi Heinrich Heine
Guillaume Apollinaire
Pierre de Ronsard Alexandre Arnoux Alexandre Arnoux Alexandre Arnoux
Brad Walker, bass-baritone
intermission César Franck 1822–1890 Charles Ives 1874–1954
La procession
Auguste Brizeux
Memories
Charles Ives
Slow March
Charles Ives
Waltz
Charles Ives
The Children’s Hour William Will When Stars Are In The Quiet Skies Songs My Mother Taught Me Charlie Rutlage
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Charles Ives Edward George Earle Bulwer-Lytton Adolf Heyduk Folk poem
As a courtesy to the performers and audience, silence electronic devices. Please do not leave the hall during selections. Photography or recording of any kind is prohibited.
Texts & Translations
george frideric handel “Si, tra i ceppi” from Berenice, HWV 38 Text by Antonio Salvi Sì, tra i ceppi e le ritorte La mia fe risplenderà. Nò, nè pur la stessa morte Il mio foco estinguerà.
Yes, even in chains and bonds My faith will be resplendent. No, not even Death itself will put out my fire.
robert schumann Selections from Schwanengesang, D. 957 Text by Heinrich Heine Der Atlas
Atlas
Ich unglücksel’ger Atlas! Eine Welt, Die ganze Welt der Schmerzen muß ich tragen, Ich trage Unerträgliches, und brechen Will mir das Herz im Leibe.
I, wretched Atlas, a world The whole world of pain I must carry, I bear the unbearable, and my heart Is breaking in my body.
Du stolzes Herz, du hast es ja gewollt! Du wolltest glücklich sein, unendlich glücklich, Oder unendlich elend, stolzes Herz, Und jetzo bist du elend.
You proud heart, you wanted it so! You wanted to be happy, eternally happy, Or eternally miserable, proud heart, And now you are in misery.
Ihr Bild
Her Portrait
Ich stand in dunkeln Träumen und starrte ihr Bildnis an, und das geliebte Antlitz Heimlich zu leben begann.
I stood in dark dreams And stared at her image, And the beloved visage Quietly came to life.
Um ihre Lippen zog sich Ein Lächeln wunderbar, Und wie von Wehmutstränen Erglänzte ihr Augenpaar.
Upon her lips appeared A smile so wonderful, And as if from tears of sadness Her eyes sparkled.
Auch meine Tränen flossen Mir von den Wangen herab Und ach, ich kann’s nicht glauben, Daß ich dich verloren hab!
And my tears flowed as well Down from my cheeks— And oh, I just can’t believe, That I have lost you!
Texts & Translations
Das Fischermädchen
The Fisher Girl
Du schönes Fischermädchen, Treibe den Kahn ans Land; Komm zu mir und setze dich nieder, Wir kosen Hand in Hand.
You lovely fisher girl, Row your boat to shore; Come to me and sit down, We’ll cuddle hand in hand.
Leg an mein Herz dein Köpfchen Und fürchte dich nicht zu sehr; Vertraust du dich doch sorglos Täglich dem wilden Meer.
Lay your head on my breast And don’t be so afraid; You trust yourself without care Daily to the untamed sea.
Mein Herz gleicht ganz dem Meere, Hat Sturm und Ebb’ und Flut, Und manche schöne Perle In seiner Tiefe ruht.
My heart is like the ocean, Has storm and ebb and flood, And many a lovely pearl Rests in its depths.
Die Stadt
The Town
Am fernen Horizonte Erscheint, wie ein Nebelbild, Die Stadt mit ihren Türmen, In Abenddämmrung gehüllt.
On the distant horizon Appears like a cloud-image The town with its spires Shrouded in the gloom of evening.
Ein feuchter Windzug kräuselt Die graue Wasserbahn; Mit traurigem Takte rudert Der Schiffer in meinem Kahn.
A damp breeze ruffles The green surface of the water; In a mournful rhythm rows The boatman in my craft.
Die Sonne hebt sich noch einmal Leuchtend vom Boden empor Und zeigt mir jene Stelle, Wo ich das Liebste verlor.
The sun rises once again Glowing above the earth And shows me that spot Where I lost my beloved.
Am Meer
At the Seashore
Das Meer erglänzte weit hinaus Im letzten Abendscheine; Wir saßen am einsamen Fischerhaus, Wir saßen stumm und alleine.
The sea sparkled far and wide In the last glow of evening; We sat at the lonely fisherman’s hut, We sat silent and alone.
Texts & Translations
Der Nebel stieg, das Wasser schwoll, Die Möwe flog hin und wieder; Aus deinen Augen liebevoll Fielen die Tränen nieder.
The fog rose, the water surged. The gull flew back and forth; From your lovely eyes The tears dropped.
Ich sah sie fallen auf deine Hand Und bin aufs Knie gesunken; Ich hab von deiner weißen Hand Die Tränen fortgetrunken.
I saw them fall upon your hand And fell on my knees; And from your white hand I drank away the tears.
Seit jener Stunde verzehrt sich mein Leib, Die Seele stirbt vor Sehnen; Mich hat das unglücksel’ge Weib Vergiftet mit ihren Tränen.
Since that time my body pines My soul is dying with yearning; The wretched woman Poisoned me with her tears.
Der Doppelgänger
The Ghostly Double
Still ist die Nacht, es ruhen die Gassen, In diesem Hause wohnte mein Schatz; Sie hat schon längst die Stadt verlassen, Doch steht noch das Haus auf demselben Platz.
The night is quiet, the streets are silent, My beloved lived in this house; She left the town a long time ago, But the house still stands in the same place.
Da steht auch ein Mensch und starrt in die Höhe Und ringt die Hände vor Schmerzensgewalt; Mir graust es, wenn ich sein Antlitz sehe Der Mond zeigt mir meine eigne Gestalt.
A man stands there, too, and stares upward And wrings his hands with the force of his pain; I’m horrified when I see his face— The moon shows me my own likeness.
Du Doppelgänger, du bleicher Geselle! Was äffst du nach mein Liebesleid, Das mich gequält auf dieser Stelle So manche Nacht, in alter Zeit?
You ghostly double, you pallid fellow! Why do you ape my lovesickness, That tormented me here So many nights long ago?
Texts & Translations
francis poulenc Le Bestiaire ou Cortège d’Orphée Text by Guillaume Apollinaire I. Le dromadaire
I. The dromedary
Avec ses quatre dromadaires Don Pedro d’Alfarou beira Courut le monde et l’admira. Il fit ce que je voudrais faire Si j’avais quatre dromadaires.
With his four dromedaries Don Pedro d’Alfarro next Roamed the world and liked it. He did what I’d do If I had four dromedaries.
II. La chèvre du Thibet
II. The Tibetan goat
Les poils de cette chèvre et même Ceux d’or pour qui prit tant de peine Jason, ne valent rien au prix Des cheveux dont je suis épris.
The fleece of this goat and even The golden one that Jason labored for Are worth nothing when compared To the hair that I’m in love with.
III. La sauterelle
III. The grasshopper
Voici la fine sauterelle, La nourriture de saint Jean. Puissent mes vers être comme elle, Le régal des meilleures gens.
Here’s the fine grasshopper, John the Baptist’s food. May my poetry be like it, A treat for the best people.
IV. Le dauphin
IV. The dolphin
Dauphins, vous jouez dans la mer, Mais le flot est toujours amer. Parfois, ma joie éclate-t-elle? La vie est encore cruelle.
Dolphins, you romp in the sea, But the waves are always bitter. Sometimes, my joy breaks through? But life is as hard as ever.
V. L’écrevisse
V. The crayfish
Incertitude, ô mes délices Vous et moi nous nous en allons Comme s’en vont les écrevisses, À reculons, à reculons.
Uncertainty, o my delight, You and I we get away As crayfish do, Backwards, backwards.
Texts & Translations
VI. La carpe
VI. The carp
Dans vos viviers, dans vos étangs, Carpes, que vous vivez longtemps! Est-ce que la mort vous oublie, Poissons de la mélancolie.
In your pools, in your ponds, Carp, you live such a long time! Does death pass over you, Fish of despondency?
jacques ibert Chansons de Don Quichotte I. Chanson du départ Text by Pierre de Ronsard
I. Song of Departure
Ce château neuf, ce nouvel édifice Tout enrichi de marbre et de porphyre Qu’amour bâtit château de son empire où tout le ciel a mis son artifice,
This new castle, this new building, enriched with marble and porphyry, where love built a castle for his empire and all of heaven added their skills,
Est un rempart, un fort contre le vice, Où la vertueuse maîtresse se retire, Que l’oeil regarde et que l’esprit admire Forçant les coeurs à lui faire service.
a rampart, a fortress against vice, where the virtuous mistress hides herself away, that the eye beholds and the spirit admires, forcing hearts to her service.
C’est un château, fait de telle sorte Que nul ne peut approcher de la porte Si des grands rois il n’a sauvé sa race Victorieux, vaillant et amoureux. Nul chevalier tant soit aventureux Sans être tel ne peut gagner la place.
It is a castle, made in such a way that none may approach its door unless he has saved his people from the Great Kings, victorious, valiant and loving. No knight, no matter how adventurous, can enter without being such a person.
II. Chanson à Dulcinée Text by Alexandre Arnoux
II. Song of Dulcinea
Un an, me dure la journée Si je ne vois ma Dulcinée.
One year, my day lasts If I don’t see my Dulcinea.
Mais, Amour a peint son visage, Afin d’adoucir ma langueur, Dans la fontaine et le nuage, Dans chaque aurore et chaque fleur.
But Love has painted her face, To soften my languor, In the fountain and the cloud, In each dawn and each flower.
Texts & Translations
Un an, me dure la journée Si je ne vois ma Dulcinée.
One year, my day lasts If I don’t see my Dulcinea.
Toujours proche et toujours lointaine, Etoile de mes longs chemins. Le vent m’apporte son haleine Quand il passe sur les jasmins.
Always close and always distant, Star of my long paths. The wind brings me her breath When it passes over jasmine.
Un an, me dure la journée Si je ne vois ma Dulcinée.
One year, my day lasts If I don’t see my Dulcinea.
III. Chanson du Duc Text by Alexandre Arnoux
III. Song of the Duke
Je veux chanter ici la Dame de mes songes Qui m’exalte au dessus de ce siècle de boue Son cœur de diamant est vierge de mensonges La rose s’obscurcit au regard de sa joue.
I want to sing of the Lady of my dreams Which exalts me over this century mud Her heart diamond is blank lies Pink darkens under her cheek.
Pour Elle, j’ai tenté les hautes aventures Mon bras a délivré la Princesse en servage J’ai vaincu l’Enchanteur, confondu les parjures Et ployé l’univers à lui rendre l’hommage.
For her, I tried these high adventures My arm delivered the princess from bondage I have overcome the magician, confused perjurers And bent the world to pay tribute to her.
Dame par qui je vais, seul dessus cette terre, Qui ne soit prisonnier de la fausse apparence Je soutiens contre tout Chevalier téméraire Votre éclat non pareil et votre précellence.
Lady with whom I’m only on this earth, That is not trapped in the false appearance I argue against any rash Knight Your unparalleled brilliance and your preeminence.
IV. Chanson de la Mort Text by Alexandre Arnoux
IV. Song of Death
Ne pleure pas Sancho, ne pleure pas, mon bon. Ton maître n’est pas mort. Il n’est pas loin de toi. Il vit dans une île heureuse où tout est pur et sans mensonges.
Do not cry Sancho, do not cry, my dear. Your master is not dead. He is not far from you. He lives on a happy island where everything is pure and without lies.
Dans l’île enfin trouvée où tu viendras un jour. Dans l’île désirée,
Finally found the island where you will come one day, the island desired,
Texts & Translations
O mon ami Sancho! Les livres sont brulés Et font un tas de cendres. Si tous les livres m’ont tué Il suffit d’un pour que je vive.
oh my friend Sancho! The books are burned And make a pile of ashes. If the books have always killed me Just one for me to live
Fantôme dans la vie, Et réel dans la mort. Tel est l’étrange sort Du pauvre Don Quichotte.
Ghost in life, Real in death. Such is the strange fate of Poor Don Quixote.
césar franck La proscession Text by Auguste Brizeux Dieu s’avance à travers les champs! Par les landes, les prés, les verts taillis de hêtres. Il vient, suivi du peuple et porté par les prêtres:
God moves across the fields! By the heath, the meadows, the green beech coppices, it comes followed by the people and borne by the priests: Aux cantiques de l’homme, oiseaux, mêlez vos chants! With the hymns of man, birds mingle your songs! On s’arrête. La foule autour d’un chêne antique They halt. The crowd round an ancient oak tree S’incline, en adorant, sous l’ostensoir mystique: kneels in adoration beneath the mystical monstrance. Soleil! darde sur lui tes longs rayons couchants! Sun! cast upon it your long sunset beams! Aux cantiques de l’homme, oiseaux, mêlez vos With they hymns of man, birds mingle your chants! songs! Vous, fleurs, avec l’encens exhalez votre arôme! You, flowers, with the incense exhale your fragrance! Ô fête! tout reluit, tout prie et tout embaume! O festival! All is shining, all is prayer, all is fragrance! Dieu s’avance à travers les champs. God moves across the fields.
Texts & Translations
charles ives Memories A. Very Pleasant We’re sitting in the opera house; We’re waiting for the curtain to arise With wonders for our eyes; We’re feeling pretty gay, And well we may, “O, Jimmy, look!” I say, “The band is tuning up And soon will start to play.” We whistle and we hum, Beat time with the drum. We’re sitting in the opera house; We’re waiting for the curtain to arise With wonders for our eyes, A feeling of expectancy, A certain kind of ecstasy, Expectancy and ecstasy... Sh’s’s’s. B. Rather Sad From the street a strain on my ear doth fall, A tune as threadbare as that “old red shawl,” It is tattered, it is torn, It shows signs of being worn, It’s the tune my Uncle hummed from early morn, ‘Twas a common little thing and kind ‘a sweet, But ‘twas sad and seemed to slow up both his feet; I can see him shuffling down To the barn or to the town, A humming. Slow March
Waltz Round and round the old dance ground, Went the whirling throng, Moved with wine and song; Little Annie Rooney, (now Mrs. Mooney,) Was as gay as birds in May, s’her Wedding Day. Far and wide’s the fame of the bride, Also of her beau, Every one knows it’s “Joe;” Little Annie Rooney, (now J. P. Mooney,) All that day, held full sway o’er Av’nue A! “An old sweetheart!”
The Children’s Hour Text by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Between the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the days occupations, That is known as Children’s Hour. I hear in the chamber above me the patter of little feet The sound of a door that is opened and voices soft and sweet. From my study I see in the lamplight Descending the broad hall stair, Grave Alice and laughing Allegra and Edith with golden hair.
One evening just at sunset we laid him in the grave; Although a humble animal his heart was true and brave. All the family joined us, in solemn march and slow, From the garden place beneath the trees and where the sunflowers grow.
Texts & Translations
William Will What we want is honest money Good as gold and pure as honey Every dollar sound and true What we want is full protection And we’ll have it next election For low tariff and low wages make us blue Refrain: So hurrah for Will McKinley and his bill And stand for honest money William will So hurrah for Will McKinley he who made the tariff bill And be ruler of this nation William Will Give us no depreciation With a sliver variation Juggle not the workman’s pence For it rouses all his choler When he finds his well earned dollar Has been whitled down to only fifty cents Refrain Billy Bryant isn’t in it Not a single noisey minute For McKinley’s here himself Rabbit’s foot and four leaf clover When election day is over Will be laid to rest upon a quiet shelf Refrain Down with all repudiation No dishonor for our nation As we promise we will pay And we soon shall hear the humming Of the good times that are coming When McKinley surnamed William wins the day Refrain
When Stars are in the Quiet Skies Text by Edward George Earle Bulwer-Lytton When stars are in the quiet skies, Then most I long for thee; O bend on me then thy tender eyes As stars look on the peaceful sea. For thoughts, like waves that glide by night, Are stillest when they shine; All my love lies hush’d in light Beneath the heaven of thine. There is an hour when holy dreams Through slumber fairest glide And in that mystic hour it seems Thou shouldst be ever at my side The thoughts of thee to sacred are For daylights common beam I can but know thee as my star My guiding star, my angel, and my dream.
Songs my Mother Taught Me Text by Adolf Heyduk Translation by Natalie Macfarren Songs my mother taught me in the days long vanished, Seldom from her eyelids were the tear drops banished. Now I teach my children each melodious measure; Often tears are flowing from my memory’s treasure.
Texts & Translations
Charlie Rutlage Another good cowpuncher has gone to meet his fate, I hope he’ll find a resting place, within the golden gate. Another place is vacant on the ranch of the X I T, ‘Twill be hard to find another that’s liked as well as he. The first that died was Kid White, a man both tough and brave, While Charlie Rutlage makes the third to be sent to his grave, Caused by a cowhorse falling, while running after stock; ‘Twas on the spring round up, a place where death men mock, He went forward one morning on a circle through the hills, He was gay and full of glee, and free from earthly ills; But when it came to finish up the work on which he went, Nothing came back from him; his time on earth was spent. ‘Twas as he rode the round up, a XIT turned back to the herd; Poor Charlie shoved him in again, his cutting horse he spurred; Another turned; at that moment his horse the creature spied And turned and fell with him, beneath poor Charlie died, His relations in Texas his face never more will see, But I hope he’ll meet his loved ones beyond in eternity, I hope he’ll meet his parents, will meet them face to face, And that they’ll grasp him by the right hand at the shining throne of grace.
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Robert Blocker, Dean
