UMS Concert Program, November 10, 2017 - Chanticleer

Parent ID

UMS Concert Programs, Season CXXXIX (2017-2018)

Day

10

Month

November

Year

2017

Download PDF

ums_programs_20171110.pdf

Copyright

Creative Commons (Attribution, Non-Commercial, Share-alike)

Rights Held By

University Musical Society

OCR Text

Chanticleer William Fred Scott Music Director Friday Evening, November 10, 2017 at 8:00 Hill Auditorium Ann Arbor 19th Performance of the 139th Annual Season
Choral Music Series This eveningÕs performance is sponsored by Michigan Medicine. Additional supporters of this eveningÕs performance are Jim Toy, honoring former UMS President Ken Fischer for his 30 years of UMS leadership, and Tom and Debby McMullen. Media partnership provided by Between the Lines, Michigan Radio 91.7 FM, and WRCJ 90.9 FM. Special thanks to Brendan Asante and Cara Graninger for their participation in events surrounding this eveningÕs performance. Special thanks to Eugene Rogers, Teddy Gotfredson, and the U-M MenÕs Glee Club for their support and participation in this eveningÕs performance. Chanticleer appears by arrangement with Opus 3 Artists. In consideration of the artists and the audience, please refrain from the use of electronic devices during the performance. The photography, sound recording, or videotaping of this performance is prohibited. PROGRAM Heart of a Soldier I William Byrd Haec dies Henry Purcell Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts Byrd Civitas sancti tui Thomas Tomkins O Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem II Thomas Ravenscroft We be Souldiers Three Clment Janequin La guerre Guillaume Dufay Lamentatio sanctae matris ecclesiae constantinopolitanae Traditional Troubadour Song LÕhomme arm III Matthias Hermann Werrecore La bataglia Ôtaliana IV Traditional Russian Soldier Song, Arr. Vladimir Mantulin Battle of Borodino Traditional Russian Soldier Song Nightingale, You Little Bird Mikhail Glinka My Blood is Blazing with Desire V Mason Bates Drum-Taps Jennifer Higdon Cold Mountain (excerpt) Our Beautiful Country Joined by the U-M Men's Glee Club Intermission VI Murray Grand, Arr. Evan Price Comment allez-vous? Walter Donaldson, Arr. Vince Peterson My Buddy Hughie Prince and Don Raye, Arr. Brian Hinman Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy Pete Seeger, Arr. Adam Ward Where Have All the Flowers Gone? VII John Musto Ò...a silence that speaksÓ Charles Hubert Hastings Parry Songs of Farewell (excerpt) My Soul, There is a Country I HAEC DIES William Byrd Born c. 1540 in Lincoln, England Died July 4, 1623 in Stondon Massey Text: Psalm 117 William Byrd was the leading English composer of the late Renaissance period. He became known for his mastery of many different musical genres both sacred and secular. Although he was Catholic, many of his commissioned works were for the Anglican Church, a practice for which he received much scrutiny. However, recognizing the breadth of his talents, Queen Elizabeth I along with many other important figures protected him from prosecution. A loyal subject to his Queen, he served the Church of England at Lincoln Cathedral as organist and choirmaster and in 1572 was given the honorable post of Gentleman of the Chapel Royal, to which he returned for the majority of his long life. The text of Haec dies comes from Psalm 117 and is usually recited at Easter in the Catholic and Anglican traditions. Elizabeth I was a more politically moderate queen than her predecessors, compromising on doctrine just enough to make the Church of England accessible to Catholics as well as Protestants. Despite her efforts of inclusion, the religious landscape of England in the late Renaissance was thick with turmoil. Quite often this conflict was reflected metaphorically in ByrdÕs music. During this period of persecution, Catholics had to worship in clandestine services and many English priests were being charged with treason and often executed. One such priest was Edmund Campion, by whom Byrd was inspired to write the motet Deus venerunt gentes, describing the persecution of GodÕs people and destruction of Jerusalem. ByrdÕs setting of Haec dies is full of joy and energy with its quickly moving lines and frequent use of hemiola, which adds intriguing rhythmic complexity. The work was published in his collection Cantiones sacrae of 1591, though it was most likely completed at an earlier date. Being sung on Easter, the piece reminds the faithful of the ultimate battle that Jesus fought to defeat death and serves as a hopeful reminder to rejoice in the life that God has given. Haec dies quam fecit Dominus: exultemus et laetemur in ea, Alleluia. This is the day the Lord has made: let us rejoice and be glad in it, Alleluia. THOU KNOWEST, LORD, THE SECRETS OF OUR HEARTS Henry Purcell Born September 10, 1659 in Westminster, England Died November 21, 1695 in Westminster Considered to be the finest English-born composer of the Baroque era, Henry Purcell enjoyed a musical success that few of his contemporaries did. Born into a musical family, Purcell was a chorister at the Chapel royal, and held several royal appointments as a young musician. By the mid-1670s, Purcell, now a student of John Blow, was associated very closely with the music at Westminster Abbey. Not only did he write anthems for the royal court, he tuned the organs, copied out vocal part books and made such a name for himself that it only seemed natural for him to succeed Blow as organist at the Abbey in 1679. In addition to his duties at the court of William and Mary, Purcell also devoted much of his talent to writing instrumental music (harpsichord suites, sonatas, and fantasias) and creating music for the stage. Certainly his one true opera, Dido and Aeneas, is an enduring masterpiece, and the sensitivity with which he sets texts in his solo songs has been matched by few others. Queen Mary II was a source of considerable inspiration for Purcell. In celebration of her name day, Purcell composed numerous anthems, odes, and motets. Upon her death in 1694 (one year before PurcellÕs own), he compiled the Funeral Music for the Death of Queen Mary, which includes choral settings of funeral sentences from the Book of Common Prayer, as well as instrumental canzonas and marches for brass and percussion. The simple and striking final anthem, ÒThou Knowest, Lord,Ó is homophonic, set in a hymn-like fashion with all four vocal lines moving together. Devoid of any sort of ornamentation or vocal display, the short motet uses word repetitions (albeit few), vocal interjections, and chromaticism to intensify the pleas of the congregation. Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts;
Shut not thy merciful ears unto our prayer;
But spare us, Lord most holy, O God most mighty.
O holy and most merciful Savior,Ê
Thou most worthy Judge eternal,
Suffer us not at our last hour,
For any pains of death to fall away from Thee. CIVITAS SANCTI TUI Byrd William Byrd, called the ÒFather of MusickeÓ by his contemporaries, is frequently cited as the most important composer of Elizabethan England. ByrdÕs influence over all aspects of Renaissance composition cannot be overstated: he not only changed the face of church music, but he also resurrected the English song and virtually created the verse anthem. No fewer than seven books of psalm settings and religious motets exist and his Mass settings for three, four, and five voices have never lost their popularity in the almost five centuries since their composition. This particular motet, Civitas sancti tui, is one of three ÒJerusalemÓ motets by Byrd and is often performed as a companion piece to the one which begins ÒNe irascaris DomineÓ (Do not be angry with us oh Lord). These reflections, which comment on that period of the IsraelitesÕ history known as the Babylonian Captivity, are of a similar hue to the words of Psalm 137, ÒBy the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and wept when we remember you, oh Jerusalem.Ó ByrdÕs understanding of the exiled community of holiness takes on particular significance as we imagine his own feelings of alienation as a Roman Catholic in increasingly Protestant 16th-century England. There is pain, weeping, and sadness, to be sure, but also a sturdy cry for unity that continues to makes itself heard. Simplicity and sophistication are combined in a way that is typical of this great master. Civitas sancti tui facta est deserta, Sion facta deserta est. Jerusalem desolata est Your Holy City has become a desert, Zion has become a desert. Jerusalem has been made desolate. O PRAY FOR THE PEACE OF JERUSALEM Thomas Tomkins Born 1572 in St. Davids, England Died June 9, 1656 in Worcestershire Welsh-born Thomas Tomkins was the last of the school of English composers in the mold of Byrd. His position in music history is rather confusing: conservative in nature but prolific in output, some praise him as a genius, while others curse him as archaic. His style obviously pleased him and, although he might have smarted when his title as Composer of the KingÕs Music Òin ordinaryÓ was revoked, nevertheless he continued to compose Anglican music of great sophistication and mastery. In fact, to this day, the music of Tomkins has never been out of fashion in church circles. It continues to intrigue and delight listeners and frequently calls for enormous technical control on the part of the singers. O Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem is a perfect example of the type of Tudor polyphony Tomkins preferred. Devoid of angular rhythms, chromatic cross-relations, or dense polyphony, the entire anthem is more plaintive than insistent. The opening lyric motive, although only two measures in its entirety, is repeated over and over again in every voice, giving the impression of a multitude of supplicants sending their prayers to God. If ByrdÕs Civitas sancti is a sturdy cry for unity in an outburst of sadness over the fallen Jerusalem, then TomkinsÕ short motet may serve as its gentle counterpart: a quiet reflection of hope and serenity. O pray for the peace of Jerusalem.
They shall prosper that love thee. II WE BE SOULDIERS THREE Thomas Ravenscroft Born c. 1582 in England Died c. 1633 in London Although he was highly regarded by his contemporaries, Thomas RavenscroftÕs place in the musical hierarchy of Tudor times is secured not by his sophisticated polyphonic madrigals, motets, or canticles, but for his collection of rounds, drinking songs, and ÒcatchesÓ (including ÒThree Blind MiceÓ)! It is to Ravenscroft that we turn when we want to imagine what so-called popular songs might have sounded like in late 16th-century England. We be Souldiers Three is one such song. Sung in a rollicking triple meter, itÕs easy to imagine a tavern full of drunken soldiers clinking their mugs of ale together in praise of libation and brotherhood. We be souldiers threeÊ
Pardona moy, je vous an pree,Ê
Lately come forth of the low countryÊ
With never a penny of money. Here, good fellow, I drink to theeÊ
Pardona moy, je vous an pree,Ê
To all good fellows wherever they be,Ê
With never a penny of money. And he that will not grant me this, Pardona moy, je vous an pree,Ê
Pays for the shot what ever it is,
With never a penny of money. Charge it again boy, charge it again,
Pardona moy je vous an pree,Ê
As long as there is any ink in your pen,
With never a penny of money. LA GUERRE (THE FRENCH SKIRMISH) Clment Janequin Born c. 1485 in Chtellerault, France Died c. 1558 in Paris Unlike most composers of his generation, Clment Janequin never held an important position with any one church or cathedral. Instead, he held a series of minor, seldom lucrative, positions; only late in his life did he achieve an official appointment at the royal court. The bulk of his compositional output lies in the realm of popular chansons instead of in liturgical motets or settings of the Mass. His widespread fame was probably a result of concurrent developments in music printing: over 250 of his popular songs were published in his lifetime. Few composers of the Renaissance were more popular in their lifetimes than Janequin. Even so, Janequin always struggled with money and died
in poverty. Two of JanequinÕs most beloved works are what might be called sound-effect pieces. Of those two, the most popular is La guerre: Escoutez tous gentilz, also known as Le bataille de Marignan and, sometimes in English, The French Skirmish. Based on the French victory over the Swiss Confederates at the Battle of Marignano in 1515, La guerre is filled with onomatopoetic effects, such as clashing swords, shouting comrades, whizzing arrows, and the like, which give the listener the sensation that the battle is actually taking place. This sort of music-making was wildly exciting to audiences of the period and even great instrumental composers, such as the Austrian Heinrich Ignatz Biber, who composed works where either vocal or orchestral sound effects were employed to create a theatrical sense of Òyou are thereÓ excitement. JanequinÕs musical language is essentially simple. Harmonically, the music is quite static, in fact, and the success of the work depends largely upon these short mosaics of sound, which are often layered to create the cacophony of war-like noises. Contained within, however, are several lyrical moments: the arrival of King Francis the First is one such. The troops, amassed for battle, pause for just a few measures to welcome ÒLa fleur de lys, fleur de hault pris, le roy Franois.Ó The listener can imagine the king, perhaps on a noble steed, climbing up the hill, finally appearing, and bestowing a benediction on the troops before commencing the battle. As if the four-part vocal texture werenÕt busy enough, JanequinÕs fellow countryman Philippe Verdelot composed a fifth line of music, more florid and contrapuntal, to accompany the second printing of the work. This type of Òcompositional supplementationÓ was not at all uncommon. The French Skirmish (The victory of Franois, King of France, at the Battle of Marignan, 1515) Prima parte Escoutez, tous gentilz galloys, La victoire du noble roy Franoys. Et orrez, si bien escoutez, Des coups ruez de tous costez. Phiffres soufflez, frappez tambours! Tournez, virez, faictes vos tours! Soufflez, jouez, battez tousjours! Avanturiers, bons compaignons, Ensemble croisez vos bastons! Bendez soudain, gentilz Gascons. Haquebutiers, faicte voz sons! Nobles, sautez dens les arons. Armes bouclez, frisques mignons! La lance au poing, hardiz et promptz, Donnez dedans comme lyons! Grincez les dents, criez alarme! Soyez hardiz en joye mis! Chacun sÕasaisonne. La fleur de lys, fleur de hault pris, Y est en personne. Alarme! Suyvez le roy Franoys! Suyvez la couronne! Sonnez trompettes et clairons Pour resjouyr les compaignons! Listen, all you kind compatriots, to victory of the noble King Francis. And you will hear, if you listen carefully, blows being hurled from all sides. Sound the fifes! Beat the drums! Turn, veer, make your moves! Sound, play, beat always! Adventurers, good countrymen, cross your staves together! Bend your bows, kind comrades-in-arms. Sackbut players, sound your horns! Noblemen, leap into your saddles. Arm yourselves, buckle up, frisky squires! Lance in hand, bold and swift, look sharp as lions! Grit your teeth, sound the alarm! Be bold and joyful! Each man make yourself presentable. The Fleur de Lys, flower of high esteem, is here in person! Alarm! Follow King Francis! Follow the crown! Sound the trumpets and clarions to gladden the hearts of your compatriots! Secunda parte Fan fre re le le lan fan fey ne Boutez selle, a lÕestandart! Tost avant, gens dÕarmes cheval! Fan fre re le le lan fan fey ne Bruyez bombardes et canons, Tonnez gros courtaux, poussez faulcons Pour secourir les compaignons! Von pa ti pa toc von pa ti pa toc von Ta ri ra ri ra rey ne ta ri ra France, courage! Donnez des horions! Chipe chope, torche, lorgne! Ë mort, mort! Courage prenez! Frappez, tuez! Gentilz gallans, soyez vaillans! Frappez dessus, ruez dessus! Fers moluz, choques dessus! Ilz monstrent les talons. Courage compaignons! Bigot escampe toute frelore! Ilz sont confuz, ils sont perduz! Prenez courage, aprez, frapez, tuez! Ilz sont deffaictz! Victoire au noble roy Franoys! Fan fre re le le lan fan fey ne Give the signal to saddle upÉ show the standard! Cavalry, get in front! Fan fre re le le lan fan fey ne Light the bombs and cannons, Thunder the cannons, send up the falcons, to provide cover to your compatriots! Von pa ti pa toc von pa ti pa toc von Ta ri ra ri ra rey ne ta ri ra Courage, fellow Frenchmen! Strike some blows! Chipe chope, light the torch, open your eyes! To the death! Take courage! Strike! Kind companions, be valiant! Strike and hit them below! Rattle them with your iron will! They have shown their weaknesses. Courage, countrymen! By God, they run away in total chaos! They are confused, they are lost! Take courage! After them, beat them! They are defeated! Victory to the noble King Franois! LAMENTATIO SANCTAE MATRIS ECCLESIAE CONSTANTINOPOLITANAE (LAMENT OF THE HOLY MOTHER CHURCH OF CONSTANTINOPLE) Guillaume Dufay Born August 13, 1397 in Beersel, Belgium Died November 27, 1474 in Cambrai, France The French-born and Italian-trained composer Guillaume Dufay was acknowledged as the leading musical figure in the mid-15th century, with far-reaching influence among his contemporaries. The tradition (doubted by some scholars) regarding his Lamentatio sanctae matris ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae holds that it was performed at an extravagant banquet given in 1454 by the Duke of Burgundy, Philip the Good. The Duke hoped to arouse his fellow European nobles into crusading zeal for the recapture of the city of Constantinople from the Turks, to whom it had fallen the previous year. As in many motets of this period, the rapid-moving upper parts are in French, while the slower-paced tenor part uses a Latin text from the Lamentations of Jeremiah to decry the abandonment of Constantinople to the infidel. In typical cantus firmus fashion (using a borrowed melody in slow notes as a melodic foundation for a motet), the tenor part employs a version of the liturgical melody used for chanting the Lamentations during Holy Week. O tres piteulx de tout espoir fontaine, Pere du filz dont suis mere esplore, Plaindre me viens a ta court souveraine, De ta puissance et de nature humaine, Qui ont souffert telle durt villaine, Faire a mon filz, qui tant mÕa hounoure. Dont suis de bien et de joye separe, Sans qui vivant veulle entendre mes plains. A toy, seul Dieu, du forfait me complains, Du gref tourment et douloureulx oultrage, Que voy souffrir au plus bel des humains Sans nul confort de tout humain lignage. Cantus Firmus: Omnes amici ejus spreverunt eam. Non est qui consoletur eam ex omnibus. Source of all hope, most merciful father of my son, I, his sorrowful mother, Come before your mighty court to indict both your power And mankind for allowing my son, Who was such a credit to me, To suffer such dire pain. For this reason I am sick at heart and full of care. Yet none will listen to my pleas. So I bring to you, one and only God, my complaint Of the grievous suffering and pain That the finest man that ever was Endures without a shred of human comfort. Cantus Firmus: All her friends forsook her. Not one of all her dear ones consoles her. LÕHOMME ARM Traditional Troubadour Song It is hard to think of any other melody in the history of music that has yielded so much music of the highest quality as this simple 20-bar ÒtroubadourÓ song. The origin of LÕhomme arm is unknown, but at a time in history when the Ottoman Turks were threatening to ravage Europe (the fall of Constantinople had taken place in 1453) a rallying fight song such as this could easily have become popular. Surely no wandering minstrel could ever have imagined the influence which this song has made. Used as the starting point for more than 40 settings of the Roman Catholic Mass during the 15th and 16th centuries, nearly every reputable composer of the time has a Missa LÕhomme arm to his name, including Dufay, Machaut, Busnois, and Ockeghem, just to name a few Franco-Flemish composers. The last section of the Kyrie from OckgehemÕs setting is an excellent example of how composers would have used this secular tune in a sacred setting. As quiet counterpoint fills the page, the melody of LÕhomme arm stands out in the tenor voice. In our programmatic context, OckgehemÕs cry, ÒLord, have mercyÓ is particularly moving. If our first (or only) response is fighting, then might not we look for help? For another way out? Lord, have mercy, indeed. LÕhomme, lÕhomme, lÕhomme arm, lÕhomme arm, LÕhomme arm doibt on doubter. On a fait par tout crier, Que chascun se viegne armer, dÕun haubregon de fer. LÕhomme, lÕhomme, lÕhomme arm, lÕhomme arm, LÕhomme arm doibt on doubter. Oh, the man, the man at arms, Fills the folk with dread alarms. Everywhere I hear them wail, ÒFind, if you would breast the gale, A good, stout coat of mail.Ó Oh, the man, the man at arms, Fills the folk with dread alarms. III LA BATAGLIA ÔTALIANA (THE ITALIAN SKIRMISH) Matthias Hermann Werrecore Born c. 1500 in Pecq, Belgium Died c. 1574 Little is known about Matthias Werrecore. Although of Flemish lineage, his name appears in conjunction with the Milan Cathedral. It is probable that as a young man he was enlisted to fight with Duke Francesco Sforza in the Italian Wars of 1521..Ð1526. His most famous composition, La bataglia Ôtaliana, celebrates Sforza and his contribution to the major defeat of the French at the Battle of Pavia in 1525. (Some scholars insist that the ÒskirmishÓ which Werrecore portrays was actually the Battle of Micocca in 1522, which ensured MilanÕs independence.) The original preface of the piece does not help us very much. It simply says, ÒMatthias Herman Verconrensis, who himself in the line of battle witnessed the worst of miseries, composed in this way.Ó Records show that he became the Maestro di Cappella at the Duomo in Milan, a post he would hold for nearly 30 years. Again, a strange contradiction comes up: records also show that he wasnÕt very well-suited for this post, in spite of holding it for three decades. Numerous complaints arose about the poor performance and behavior of his choirs! Werrecore likely knew of JanequinÕs La guerre, since La bataglia Ôtaliana is composed in virtually the same manner. The musical material is simple; it is the sound effects of battle, the misused and badly pronounced foreign dialects, and the self-proclaimed glory of fighting that create and sustain interest in both compositions. (In fact, WerrecoreÕs piece was frequently called ÒThe Italian SkirmishÓ in order to distinguish it from JanequinÕs better-known work.) WerrecoreÕs Italian version describes happenings on the battlefield over the span of three days. The work opens with fanfares in honor of the Duke, and launches almost immediately into the scene of the battle. Texts and musical images portray the sounding of alarms, the clashing of swords, as well as the firing of the arquebus, the first ÒtriggeredÓ weapon to be used in battle. While not as inventive as Janequin, Werrecore uses many of the same ostinato patterns to create the soundscape of battle. What WerrecoreÕs battle scene lacks musically, however, is more than made up for by the acerbic text he sets. Although equally pompous as the French about their own military prowess, the Italians have no qualms about hurling insults and ridicule upon friends and foes alike. Certainly the French receive their fair share of insults (referred to as lazy wine-guzzlers and stinky dogs) but it seems that the Swiss, fighting for the French, receive the brunt of the ridicule, as Werrecore depicts them as mere yodeling ninnies, happier to dance a minuet than to fight. In fact, in the middle of the second day of battle (called ÒSecunda ParsÓ in the score) the fighting seems to stop: four quite identifiable musical pictures are created. The Swiss girls are dancing a minuet. The Italians are calling for the Duke to come lead them. The mercenary Germans, hired as mercenary soldiers, are randomly firing off heavy weaponry as the French are babbling nonsense syllables. The little vignette only comes to a halt as one soprano seems to faint dead away. Perhaps the dancing was too much for her? Ultimately, at the end of the third day, the cowards Ñ whoever they are Ñ run away and the Duke proclaims victory. ÒVittoria, vittoria!Ó is heard passing from voice to voice as the magnificence of the last strain ÒViva il Duca di MilanoÓ is heard in the altos and basses. This truly theatrical translation of the long text Werrecore uses describes some of the narrative of the lengthy battle. It has a decidedly Italian slant Ñ some sources say Werrecore actually participated in the skirmish Ñ and is filled with onomatopoetic sounds of battle, of crowds coming together, silly low-class doggerel, and an occasional slur towards the French foe. The Italian Skirmish (The defeat of Franois I, King of France, at the Battle of Pavia, 1525) Prima parte Signori et cavalieri, DÕingegno e forza udite la vittoria Del Duca di Milan Francesco Sforza Pon pire pon lire pon lire lon AIIÕarmi o trombetti o tamburini Li inimici son vicini! Butte selle monta a caval! TuttÕalli stendard! Tara tum lure la Fari rari, ron fainant. Gente dÕarmi a li stendardi, Su su fanti a le bandiere. Gli aversari vengon gagliardi. Via caval leggieri, Gente state dÕarmi allÕordinieri in quella prataria Capitan et buon guerrieri De la nobil fantaria, Da man mancÕarditi et fieri. In battaglia ciascun stia. Vivandieri, Carriazzi, Saccomani Su via non passate quei sentieri State strettÕin compagnia. Fulminate cannonieri Con la vostrÕartiglieria Tif tof ure lure lure lof Duca! Italia! Tric trac tric trac mazza tocca dagli Duca Scampe scampe da li Francois. Gentlemen, high-born and low, Men of wit and wisdom, hear the victory of the Duke of Milan, Francesco Sforza Pon pire pon lire pon lire lon To arms, with trumpets and tambourets The enemy is near! Saddle up your horses! Everyone, hoist your standard! Tara tum lure la Fari rari, ron fainant. Men of arms, raise the standards, Quickly, quickly show the flag. The adversaries are shameless. Get the swiftest horses, Take up the ordinance Captain, and you good men Of noble fantasies, Let no man be guilty or proud. In battle anyone can fight. Canteen girls, cooks, and butchers On your way, do not stray from the path Keep close together, united as one. Let your cannons roar Stoked by your rounds of artillery Tif tof, ure lure lure lof Oh Duke! Oh Italy! Tric trac tric trac With a crack of the bat, the Duke Is sending King Francis home. Seconda parte (The French troops are given a few sentences by Werrecore. As the fighting continues, young ladies Ñ canteen bearers, perhaps Ñ and teenage boys are heard in prayer to the Virgin Mary, while the Òfighting FrenchÓ try desperately to rouse the troops in a shout of unity.) El gran Duca Milanese GuardÕ il ponte. Con la sua gente lombarda E gran Duca milanese Sta ben forte alle contese Contra s grossÕantiguardia DÕassai compagnia francese. Dobbe dobbe dobbe Duca! Italia! Compagnons avant, donnes De dans, frappes de dans France. Tues ces vilains France, Marche. Fa ri ra ri ron Su schioppetti! Su archibugi! Tif tof tif tof ture lure lof Su che son confusi li francois. A pi non pos passatÕil fos A dos a dos mazza hai canaglia O nostre dame! O bon Iesu! Astur nous sommes perdus. Hai poltroni, hai bottiglioni Gli ha pur persa la giornata Su la peveratÕhai miseri Francois. The great Duke of Milan Keeps a watchful eye on the bridge. With his Lombard men The great Duke of Milan Has a strong chance of winning Against the slovenly rear guard of the French forces. Dobbe, dobbe, dobbe, Duke! Oh Italy! ÒCompanions one and all Strike them down, strike for France, Kill these villains, march on for France.Ó Fa ri ra ri ron Raise your muskets! Raise your arquebuses! Tif tof tif tof, ture lure lof How confused are the men of Le Roi Franois. No longer will they wield their pikes Shoulder to shoulder the scoundrels are marching ÒO, Notre Dame! O, blessed Jesu! Surely we are lost.Ó They are poltroons, they are lazy wine guzzlers These men who have sat around all day Into the pepper pot, you miserable Frenchies. Terza parte (The Spanish and the Germans helped the Italians rout the French and the few Swiss troops who were helping them. Werrecore adds nonsensical German and Spanish phrases into the generally Italian hymn of praise. WerrecoreÕs German, French, and Spanish additions are full of out-of-date or incorrect words, bad grammar, and substandard phrases. This mocking use of foreign languages was typical of composers writing in this ÒmacaronicÓ style. The famous motet, Matona mia cara, of Lassus, is peppered with bad German pronunciation of Italian words, for instance, as it attempts to mock the poor German cavalryman who so unsuccessfully tries to seduce the lovely maiden.) Signori ltaliani, Su ognÕalemano a voi Vien la furia amara. DÕogni Sguizaro villano Scoppettier su spara Non scargate colpÕinvano. Dobbe dobbe dobbe Tif tof tif tof Fa ri ra ri ron Italia! Duca! Har har raube Myrher myrher perausche De vir vilen latin buben Har har vir villen Chuden rubel binden. Su alabardieri Urta spezza Maglia hai vil canaglia. La si sbaraglia mazza taglia A los viliacos qui vienen, A ellos qui son rotos y dehechios! Le pur vinta la battaglia Vittoria! ltalia! Fa ri ra ri ron Viva Ôl Duca con tutta la Italia Viva Ôl Duca de Milano. Oh, Italian brothers, The German warriors come near A bitter fury will be unleashed. Every villainous Swiss yodeler Will be shot on sight Whether you hit him or not, is no matter. Dobbe dobbe dobbe Tif tof tif tof Fa ri ra ri ron For Italy! For the Duke! ÒHeh, heh, plunder und pillage Ve vill pursue them here und zere Ve vill aid our Italian buddies Heh, heh, how ve vill Take zere sacks of money.Ó Into the fray, halbardiers, Run into them, break them up The vile dogs have a strong network. Risk everything youÕve got. ÒSet upon the cowards who came near, Those who have been routed and defeated!Ó We have truly won the battle Victory to Italy! Fa ri ra ri ron Here passes the Duke with all his Italians Long live the Duke of Milan! IV BATTLE OF BORODINO Traditional Russian Soldier Song, Arr. Vladimir Mantulin Text by Mikhail Lermontov In his exile on the island of St. HelenÕs, Napoleon wrote in a letter to his confidant: ÒIt is two things that ruined us in Russia: the bitter winter and their loud soldier songs.Ó The Battle of Borodino was one of the largest and bloodiest battles of modern history, next to the battles of Stalingrad and Britain, and Trafalgar and Gettysburg. Mikhail LermontovÕs poem ÒBorodinoÓ was published in 1837 on the occasion of the 25th anniversary of the battle. Lermontov (1814Ð1841) is considered a supreme poet of the Russian literature, alongside Pushkin, and the greatest figure of Russian Romanticism. Immensely prolific and versatile as a poet, writer, and painter, Lermontov is often called Òthe poet of the CaucasusÓ and Òthe Russian Byron.Ó A career officer (as all men of noble descent were at the time), Lermontov served in the Russian Imperial Army and took part in several wars in Persia and Turkey: campaigns that were aimed to take control over the Caucasus. He was killed in a duel at the age of 26, in the mountains near the town of Pyatigorsk. LermontovÕs poem ÒBorodinoÓ is known and loved by every Russian. In June 1812, Napoleon led his army into Russia. He expected a short war and Napoleon took around 600,000 men but brought few supplies. Napoleon planned to confront the Russian army in a major battle, the kind of battle he usually won. Tsar Alexander I knew this, however, and adopted a clever strategy: instead of facing NapoleonÕs forces head on, the Russians simply kept retreating every time NapoleonÕs forces tried to attack. Enraged, Napoleon would follow the retreating Russians again and again, marching his army deeper into Russia for three long months. Thus the campaign dragged on much longer than Napoleon expected. Furthermore, he had brought few supplies, since he expected his army to be able to live off of the land they were in, as was his usual practice. The desperate Russians, however, adopted a Òscorched-earthÓ policy: whenever they retreated, they burned the places they left behind. NapoleonÕs army only engaged the Russians in one major conflict, the Battle of Borodino, a small town 70 miles west of Moscow. The battle that followed was the largest and bloodiest single-day action of the Napoleonic Wars, involving more than 250,000 soldiers and resulting in 70,000 casualties. The French gained a victory, but at the cost of 49 general officers and thousands of men. The Russian army was able to extricate itself and withdrew the following day, leaving the French without the decisive victory Napoleon sought. On September 14, 1812, Napoleon entered Moscow, which was now abandoned, on fire, and in ruins in conformity with the scorched-earth tactics. With a particularly harsh winter quickly setting in, Napoleon ordered his forces to retrace their path back to France. Yet winter now proved the cruelest foe for what was an underfed, ragged army. Of the roughly 600,000 troops who followed Napoleon into Russia, fewer than 100,000 made it back to Europe. This was the first of a series of defeats of the Napoleon army, followed by the battle of Leipzig and the final fall in the battle of Waterloo in 1815. .....-.., ...., .... .. ..... ......, ......... ......., ........ ......? .... .... . ....... ......, .., ......., ... .....! ....... ...... ... ...... ... .... ........! - .., .... .... . .... ....., .. .., ... ........ .....: ........ - .. ..! ...... .. ......... ....: ........ ......... . ....... .. .... .. .. ........ ...., .. ...... . ......! .. ..... ..... ........., ....... ...., ... ....., ....... .......: Ò... . ..? .. ...... ........? .. ....., ... .., ......... ..... ........ ....... . ....... .....?Ó . ... ..... ....... ....: .... ........... ... .. ....! ......... ...... . ..... .... .. .......! .... .... ........ ..... . .... ..... ........ Ð ........ ... ... .... . ...... .... ..........., ... ..... ..... ............, ......... ... ...... ... ......: ..... ...., .... ........... .., .... ...: ...... ......., . ...... .., ........ .....: Ò......! .. ...... .. .. ....? ... .... ...... .......!Ó . ....... .. ......., . ...... ........ ........ Old timer, tell us how it happened That Moscow, by great fires blackened Was yielded to the foe? Despite the many bloody clashes When armies met with weapons flashing, No wonder everyone in Russia Recalls Borodino! Yes, I can tell, my peers were better Then men today, they had the mettle For any trial or feat... They measured up to grimmest challenge But few survived the bloody carnage, And God, then willed our strength and Courage from Moscow to retreat. The long retreat had made us gloomy. We yearned to fight. Old-timers, fuming, were grumbling, growing sad: ÒWhat gives? Retreat to winter quarters? Our chiefs should give us rousing orders To drive the French beyond our borders with Russian bayonets?Ó We stopped and turned in field enormous, Ôtwas room enough for our purpose. We built our breastwork high; And waited ready in alertness. As soon as dawn lit up the surface Of cannons, forward-post observers Could see the French arrive. All set we faced that fateful morning... First crack of dawn Ñ all ranks were forming as units were deployed. Our colonel, born to lead with daring, For Tzar and soldiers always caring, Was killed that day, his sabre wearing, He sleeps in native soil. But on that morning, still commanding, He said: ÒJust west of Moscow standing, WeÕll hold the high and low. Our fathers perished, Moscow shielding! We pledged our lives, our weapons wielding, And kept our faithful oath unyielding.. We had Borodino. NIGHTINGALE, YOU LITTLE BIRD Traditional Russian Soldier Song The passionate soul of the Slavic soldier is easily attracted to music and Nightingale, You Little Bird (or ÒSolovei Ptashechka,Ó in transliteration) is one of the most known and loved Russian Òsoldier songs.Ó It is a stroevaya (marching song) with a simple melody and straightforward text. The origin of this traditional soldier song is unknown, but probably goes back to the times when soldiers were recruited from the poorest masses and the time of service was 25 years. ..... .. ...., ...., .... ...... ....... ..... ......: ..! .......... ....... ....? ...! ...! .... .. ..... .......... ....... ..... ...... .... ...... ........ .. ........ ........ ....... .. ...... ........ ......: .....! .... .. .... ........, ... ... ..... ......... ... ... ..... ........, ......... ....... ......: .....! Along a broad street a young soldier is coming As he walks, he sings a loud song. Chorus: Nightingale, nightingale, you tiny, little bird, (Hey!) Why do you sing like a sad canary? (One! Two!) These woes are nothing new. YouÕre a little canary with a plaintive song. Will you love me, Natasha? I am young and brave. A young, brave, fearless lad. Chorus: Nightingale, nightingale, you tiny, little bird...! If you give me your love, God will grant us a son. God will grant us a son who will grow up to be a general. Chorus: Nightingale, nightingale, you tiny, little bird...! MY BLOOD IS BLAZING WITH DESIRE Mikhail Glinka Born June 1, 1804 in Smolensk Governorate, Russia Died February 15, 1857 in Berlin, Germany Mikhail Glinka is most known for his epic opera Ivan Susanin (originally titled A Life for the Tsar) and his many symphonic compositions. His songs and romances for solo voice and small ensembles are beloved by singers and audiences for their charm and the seeming simplicity of the beautiful and graceful melodies. GlinkaÕs stylized simplicity resembles that of Schubert, hiding the mastery of artistic detail behind the unpretentious faade of a salon impromptu. My Blood is Blazing with Desire, here arranged for a choir of mixed voices, was written in 1838 after PushkinÕs poetic setting of The Song of Songs. Glinka creates a song of immediate allure and enchantment. There is a rush of sensuality and an immediate exuberance in its waltz-like sense of motion; perhaps a vivid memory haunts a Russian soldierÕs mind as he dreams of his beloved Òback home.Ó . ..... ..... ..... .......,. .... ..... ........,. ...... ....: .... ......... ... ..... ..... . ...... ........ .. ... ...... ......,. . .. ..... ...........,. .... ...... ....... ..... . ......... ...... ..... .My blood is blazing with desire, My stricken soul for you does pine. Oh, kiss me now! Your kissesÕ fire Is sweeter far than myrrh and wine. Incline your head to me but softly And tamed, IÕll linger with you calmly Until the cheerful light of day Chases the gloom of night away. V DRUM-TAPS Mason Bates Born January 23, 1977 in Richmond, Virginia Text by Walt Whitman Mason Bates, Virginia-born and internationally acclaimed, has a career that thrives on ingenuity, surprise, and variety. Moving easily between the worlds of ÒstandardÓ classical music Ñ works for chorus, orchestra, chamber ensembles Ñ and electronica, Bates
is busy with commissions from the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, Carnegie Hall, Lincoln Center, and the Chicago Symphony, where he was appointed the Mead Composer-in-Residence in 2010. Two years later he was the recipient of the Heinz Award for Arts and Humanities. Recent compositions for Chanticleer include a choral song cycle, Sirens, commissioned in 2009; Observer from the Magellanic Cloud, which dates from 2011; a free arrangement of Peter GabrielÕs Washing of the Water; and now, Drum-Taps, a joint commission from Chanticleer and the Kennedy Center. Drum-Taps is based on two powerful Civil War poems of Walt Whitman. Bates has fashioned a single text which divides itself into several interlocking sections. Its narrative is clear and, ultimately, heartbreaking. Over a relentless ostinato in the tenor and basses (the sounds of military snare drums) the work begins with a description of the urgency and nervousness of wartime conscription. Young men, mechanics, brick masons, carpenters, lawyers, wagoneers, and even judges leave their work, Ògathering by common consent and arming.Ó A more thoughtful and lyrical section describes the beautiful autumn of the Midwest; in fact, a farm in Ohio is the setting for the drama which unfolds as a family receives news that their soldier boy has died. The inexorable rhythm of the drums comes back into play as the last lines describe the motherÕs sleepless nights, her poignant desire to be with her Òdear, dead son.Ó Composed by Mason Bates through a commission by The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and Chanticleer, whose participation was funded by Russ Irwin. To the drum-taps prompt, The young men falling in and arming; The mechanics arming, (the trowel, the jack-plane, the blacksmithÕs hammer, tossed aside with precipitation;) The lawyer leaving his office, and arming Ñ the judge leaving the court; The driver deserting his wagon in the street, jumping down, throwing the reins abruptly down on the horsesÕ backs; The salesman leaving the store Ñ the boss, book-keeper, porter, all leaving; Squads gathering everywhere by common consent, and arming; The new recruits, even boys, Outdoors arming Ñ indoors arming Ñ the flash of the musket-barrels; The white tents cluster in camps Ñ the armÕd sentries around, ArmÕd regiments arrive every day, pass through the city. The blood of the city up Ñ armÕd! armÕd! the cry everywhere; The flags flung out from the steeples of churches, and from all the public buildings and stores; The tearful parting Ñ the mother kisses her son Ñ the son kisses his mother; (Loath is the mother to part Ñ yet not a word does she speak to detain him;) Come up from the fields father, hereÕs a letter from our Pete, And come to the front door mother, hereÕs a letter from thy dear son. Lo, Ôtis autumn, Lo, where the trees, deeper green, yellower and redder, Cool and sweeten OhioÕs villages with leaves fluttering in the moderate wind, Where apples ripe in the orchards hang and grapes on the trellisÕd vines, (Smell you the grapes on the vines? Smell you the buckwheat where the bees were lately buzzing?) Above all, lo, the sky so calm, so transparent after the rain, and with wondrous clouds; Below too, all calm, all vital, and beautiful Ñ and the farm prospers well. Down in the fields all prospers well; But now from the fields come father Ñ come at the daughterÕs call, And come to the entry mother Ñ to the front door come right away. Fast as she can she hurries Ñ something ominous, her steps trembling, She does not tarry to smooth her hair nor adjust her cap. Open the envelope quickly, O this is not our sonÕs writing, yet his name is signed; A strange hand writes for our dear son Ñ O stricken motherÕs soul! All swims before her eyes, flashes with black, she catches the main words only, Sentences broken Ñ gunshot wound in the breast, cavalry skirmish, taken to hospital, At present low, but will soon be better. Ah now the single figure to me, Amid all teeming and wealthy Ohio with its cities and farms, Sickly white in the face and dull in the head, By the jamb of a door leans. Grieve not so, dear mother, (the just-grown daughter speaks through her sobs) See, dearest mother, the letter says Pete will soon be better. Alas poor boy, he will never be better, While they stand at home at the door he is dead already, The only son is dead. But the mother needs to be better, She with thin form dressed in black, By day her meals untouchÕd Ñ then at night fitfully sleeping, often waking, In the midnight waking, weeping, longing, That she might withdraw unnoticed Ñ silent from life escape and withdraw, To follow, to seek, to be with her dear, dead son. COLD MOUNTAIN (EXCERPT) Jennifer Higdon Born December 31, 1962 in Brooklyn, New York One of AmericaÕs most respected living composers is Brooklyn-born Jennifer Higdon. Winner of numerous honors Ñ not the least of which is the Pulitzer Prize Ñ she currently holds the Milton L. Rock Chair of Composition studies at the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia. Dr. Higdon is the creator, along with librettist Gene Sheer, of the operatic version of Cold Mountain which was received with widespread acclaim at its premiere in Santa Fe in the summer of 2015. Particular attention was given to the choral writing in that poignant work. The San Francisco Classical Voice remarked, ÒIt is a score which, in its sure-handed clarity, accessibility, and inventiveness, marks Higdon as a natural creator for the lyric stage.Ó This short chorus, ÒOur Beautiful Country,Ó is lyrical and heartfelt, introspective but not tame. Reverence and passion mix as heroism is tinged with questioning. The musical textures are rich and deep, as the choral writing is defined by the tenor and bass voices of the ensemble. Buried and forgotten, in the fieldsÉunder trees. In valleys, and on the mountains, we sing their elegies. What will echo from our song? What has changed from this land of toil and pain? What will grow from this scarlet soil? We are soldiers, songs, civilians; we flow, The unnamed tributaries of our nationÕs blood, The rivers of our nationÕs blood. Buried and forgotten, in our beautiful country, Where we lie buried, We rest beneath every step you take, In the dust, in the ground on which you tread. Hear the echo, the echo of our song, And feel the shadow from our pain and toil, Across the valleys spread in scarlet soil, Our elegies echo loudlyÉ Hear the brittle snap of twigs, Encased in WinterÕs blackest bark. The plumb line of our soulÕs been cracked, As one by one the stars go dark, In our beautiful country. VI COMMENT ALLEZ-VOUS? Murray Grand Born August 27, 1919 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Died March 7, 2007 in Santa Monica, California Arr. Evan Price Some performers can be characterized by a single adjective. Caruso might have been called heroic, a violinist like Heifetz, astonishing. Houdini might have been mesmerizing and William Jennings Bryan spellbinding. In the world of 1950s jazz, Blossom Dearie Ñ an American-born composer, pianist, and singer making her way in Paris Ñ was, to put it simply, adorable. Born in New York in the 1920s, singing in Paris during the 1950s, and recording for the famous Verve label, Blossom Dearie was instantly recognizable for her delicate piano filigree, graceful vocal mastery, and her winning stage presence. She never raised her voice: one simply came to her. When she asks, ÒComment allez-vous?Ó or, more provocatively, ÒParlez-vous franais?Ó her slightly sassy style really says, ÒCome on in. IÕve got a few things to say...Ó At once, weÕre transported into her world. Parlez-vous Franais? Mais oui, allons-y! (Aprs vous, chre madame!) Comment allez-vous? Fancy bumping into you Comment allez-vous? Tell me everything thatÕs new Are you happy are you sad? Feeling good or feeling bad? (and is there anything youÕre craving?) (do you feel like misbehaving?) Comment allez-vous? Gee, itÕs nice to see you here Comment allez-vous? You look better every year I was really on my way, but I had to stop and say: Comment allez-vous? (Comment allez-vous, petit chou?) Say it, it has Òsavoir faireÓ (Comment allez-vous mon minou?) Has a continental air Cloaks and suitors, by the oodles, say it to their cute french poodles Spaniards say it, so do Greeks (Comment allez-vous?) In the desert, so do Sheiks (show they know a thing or two) (itÕs so easy, why canÕt you say...?) Comment allez-vous? MY BUDDY Walter Donaldson Born February 15, 1893 in Brooklyn, New York Died July 15, 1947 in Santa Monica, California Arr. Vince Peterson Topping the charts at number one in 1922, My Buddy was one of the most popular tunes of the 1920s. Written by the legendary duo of Walter Donaldson and Gus Kahn, it became a favorite of soldiers during wartime, reminding them of loved ones back home. Over the years many artists have recorded My Buddy, including Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Connie Francis, and Doris Day. Barbra Streisand introduced it to a new generation of listeners when it appeared on her album, The Way We Were. Though it might have a sentimental patina to it that may locate it as particularly American and of a certain between-the-wars era, the song addresses the incredible personal struggles of separation and loneliness that all soldiers and their loved ones must feel. Nights are long since you went away I think about you all through the day My buddy, my buddy Nobody quite so true... Miss your voice, the touch of your hand Just long to know that you understand My buddy, my buddy Your buddy misses you. BOOGIE WOOGIE BUGLE BOY Hughie Prince Born August 9, 1906 in Greenville, South Carolina Died January 15, 1960 in New York, New York Don Raye Born March 16, 1909 in Washington, DC Died January 29, 1985 in Los Angeles, California Arr. Brian Hinman Boogie Woogie originated in and around Texas as a subset of the blues, played on the piano and inspired by the driving rhythms of the railroad that was spreading across the state in the late 1800s. Increased access to audio recording through the 1920s helped introduce the style to wider audiences, and by the late 1930s the enormously popular dance and ÒswingÓ bands had fully ushered it into a large-scale revival. Enter the Andrews Sisters, who exploded onto the scene in 1937 with their recording of an English version of a Yiddish song called Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen. Four years later, the iconic Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy became the SistersÕ best-known song. Characterized by the driving and relentless bass rhythms, this dance style wanted a nearly constant flow of eight eighth notes to every bar. This arrangement is meant to capture that infectious, full, big-band energy, that made the revival of Boogie Woogie such a thrill. Program note by Brian Hinman. He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way
He had a boogie style that no one else could play
He was the top man at his craft
But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft
HeÕs in the army now, a-blowinÕ reveille
HeÕs the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B They made him blow a bugle for his Uncle Sam
It really brought him down because he couldnÕt jam
The captain seemed to understand
Because the next day the capÕ went out and drafted a band
And now the compÕny jumps when he plays reveille
HeÕs the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B A-toot, a-toot, a-toot-diddelyada-toot
He blows it eight-to-the-bar, in boogie rhythm
He canÕt blow a note unless the bass and guitar is playinÕ with Ôim
He makes the compÕny jump when he plays reveille
HeÕs the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B He was our boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B
And when he plays boogie woogie bugle he was busy as a ÒbzzzÓ bee
And when he plays he makes the compÕny jump eight-to-the-bar
HeÕs the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B Toot-toot-toot, toot-diddelyada, toot-diddelyada
Toot, toot, he blows it eight-to-the-bar
He canÕt blow a note if the bass and guitar isnÕt with him
A-a-a-and the compÕny jumps when he plays reveille
HeÕs the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B He puts the boys asleep with boogie every night
And wakes Ôem up the same way in the early bright
They clap their hands and stamp their feet
Because they know how he plays when someone gives him a beat
He really breaks it up when he plays reveille
HeÕs the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B
And the compÕny jumps when he plays reveille
HeÕs the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B! WHERE HAVE ALL THE FLOWERS GONE? Pete Seeger Born May 3, 1919 in New York, New York Died January 27, 2014 in New York, New York Arr. Adam Ward Adam Ward and Brian Hinman have frequently graced the programs of Chanticleer with new arrangements of songs we love. Along with countertenor Alan Reinhardt, this year marks their 12th anniversary with the ensemble. When asked for program notes about his arrangement of Where Have All the Flowers Gone?, Ward turned quickly to words from the songÕs creator, Pete Seeger: I had been reading a long novel Ñ And Quiet Flows the Don Ñ about the Don River in Russia and the Cossacks who lived along it in the 19th century. It describes the Cossack soldiers galloping off to join the CzarÕs army, singing as they go. Three lines from a song are quoted in the book: ÒWhere are the flowers? The girls plucked them/Where are the girls? TheyÕre all married/Where are the men? TheyÕre all in the army.Ó Later, in an airplane, I was dozing, and it occurred to me that the line Òlong time passingÓ Ñ which I had also written in a notebook Ñ would sing well. Then I thought, ÒWhen will we ever learn?Ó Suddenly, within 20 minutes, I had a song. There were just three verses. I Scotch-taped the song to a microphone and sang it at Oberlin College. This was in 1955. One of the students there had a summer job as a camp counselor. (Joe Hickerson is his name, and I gave him 20% of the royalties.) He took the song to the camp and sang it to the kids. He gave it rhythm, which I hadnÕt done. The kids played around with it, singing ÒWhere have all the counselors gone? Open curfew, everyone!Ó [Hickerson] actually added two verses: ÒWhere have all the soldiers gone? Gone to graveyards every one/Where have all the graveyards gone? Covered with flowers every one.Ó In this arrangement, it is WardÕs hope that the listener not only be transported back to the Vietnam War era, but, as he says, Òto realize that this song holds as much truth now as it did upon its release in 1964.Ó Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the flowers gone?
Young girls have picked them everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn? Where have all the young girls gone, long time passing?
Where have all the young girls gone, long time ago?
Where have all the young girls gone?
Gone for husbands everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn? Where have all the husbands gone, long time passing?
Where have all the husbands gone, long time ago?
Where have all the husbands gone?
Gone for soldiers everyone
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn? Where have all the soldiers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the soldiers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Gone to graveyards, everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn? Where have all the graveyards gone, long time passing?
Where have all the graveyards gone, long time ago?
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Gone to flowers, everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn? Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the flowers gone?
Young girls have picked them everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn? VII Ò...A SILENCE THAT SPEAKSÓ John Musto Born 1954 in Brooklyn, New York Text by Archibald MacLeish The works of the American poet Archibald MacLeish had long appealed to composer John Musto. It was a pleasant surprise that, when the possibility of setting The Young Dead Soldiers Do Not Speak for Chanticleer came up, Musto agreed immediately and without reservation. The intensity of the short poem has found a moving and even haunting place in MustoÕs personal and persuasive language. To MacLeishÕs text, the composer has added several Latin epigrams which serve as moments of reflection, sometimes surprisingly relentless, occasionally angular and jagged with pain, and ominous and eerie. A solo baritone voice begins the work; immediately voices, as if from another world, chime in, reminding the listener that the dead soldiers do in fact continue to move us. MustoÕs musical language may be quite different from that which Jennifer Higdon uses in her choruses from Cold Mountain, but the over-arching questions are the same, ÒAre we buried and simply forgotten? Will you remember us? Did any peace result from our fighting?Ó In MustoÕs hands, fugue and counterpoint, canon and imitation combine with elastic and augmented intervals as the silence becomes audible. Often three or four musical ideas are heard at the same time. There is a kind of rhythmic energy that goes back and forth from simple, repetitive ostinato to the combination of eighth notes, triplets, and quarter notes which force the listener into the heart of the poetry. Musto is a native of Brooklyn, New York and an alumnus of the Manhattan School of Music. He was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, winner of two Emmy Awards, two CINE awards, recipient of a Rockefeller Fellowship, and most recently commissioned by Chanticleer for a setting of the Stephen Foster song, Must the Red Rose Live Alway?. In addition to his work as a composer of nearly every genre, he is a highly respected pianist whose two piano concertos were hailed by Gramophone magazine as Òworks of enormous imagination, freshness, and feeling that require a soloist who combines sensitivity with almost ferocious virtuosity.Ó The textures of MustoÕs setting of MacLeish are not necessarily ferocious, but they are certainly intense. The music almost never comes to rest, harmonically speaking, and so the very ending, as the words ÒRemember usÓ are repeated over and over, is even more special. A lone D-Major chord embeds itself in our hearing. We are left with a charge: Òwe leave you our deaths: give them their meaning.Ó Arrangement commissioned by James R. Shay, 2017. The young dead soldiers do not speak Nevertheless they are heard in the still houses: who has not heard them? Pulvis et umbra sumus. [We are dust and shadow. ÐHorace] They have a silence that speaks for them at night and when the clock counts. They say, We were young. We have died. Remember us. Viva enim mortuorum in memoria vivorum est posita. [The life of the dead resides in the memory of the living. ÐCicero] They say, We have done what we could but until it is finished it is not done. They say, We have given our lives but until it is finished no one can know what our lives gave. Animoque supersunt jam prope post animam. [Their spirit seems even to survive their breath. ÐSidonius Apollinaris] They say, Our deaths are not ours: they are yours: they will mean what you make them. They say, Whether our lives and our deaths were for peace and a new hope or for nothing we cannot say: it is you who must say this. They say, We leave you our deaths: give them their meaning: give them an end to the war and a true peace: give them a victory that ends the war and a peace afterwards: give them their meaning. We were young, they say. We have died. Remember us. Transit umbra, lux permanet. [Shadow passes, light remains. .ÐUnknown] SONGS OF FAREWELL (EXCERPT) Charles Hubert Hastings Parry Born February 27, 1848 in Bournemouth, England Died October 7, 1918 in Rustington, England Text by Henry Vaughan Many music critics, historians, singers, and instrumentalists have been heard to say that Benjamin Britten was the Ògreatest English composer since Purcell.Ó Their haste to praise Britten, unfortunately, seems to bypass the amazing composer and teacher of the Victorian Age, Charles Hubert Hastings Parry. To be sure, ParryÕs influence on the music of Victorian England cannot be understated. Although his early professional life was spent as an underwriter for LloydÕs of London, his aspirations for a musical career saw their initial fruition through George Grove, who engaged Parry as sub-editor for his new Dictionary of Music and Musicians, a massive enterprise for which Parry contributed over 100 articles. Through the influence of Grove, Parry was also appointed professor of composition and musical history at the newly formed Royal College of Music, concurrent with a similar position at Oxford. As a young composer Parry was greatly influenced by Mendelssohn, Brahms, and Wagner; such was the influence of Wagner, in fact, that Parry traveled several times to Germany to hear the latest WagnerÕs pen. In spite of his desire to become an opera composer, Parry found himself in demand for the typically English musical product of the day, the oratorio. With the success of Blest Pair of Sirens, which he labeled a Òmusical ode,Ó he established himself as an unrivaled master of that field. By the 1890s, he was regarded as the unofficial composer laureate of Great Britain, composing a setting of the Magnificat for Queen VictoriaÕs Diamond Jubilee, gaining a Knighthood in 1898, as well as being named Baronet in 1902. The Songs of Farewell, which are among the last of ParryÕs compositions, is a collection of motets on texts by various British poets. They represent the summit of British a cappella music, with supremely eloquent vocal lines, total mastery of counterpoint, and glowing, almost hallowed colors and textures. The themes of the poetry contrast the transitory nature of life with the redeeming power of faith. Parry was moved to compose these motets (there are six in all) during the First World War as he was particularly struck by the constant horrible reports from Òthe front.Ó According to ParryÕs biographer, Jeremy Dibbell, the aging composer experienced Òan incredulity, combined with a profound sense of betrayal, that a nation of artistic heroes who had taught him everythingÉcould be capable of such carnage.Ó The first of the motets, ÒMy Soul, There is a Country,Ó is probably the best-known of the collection. It is also one of the shorter ones. Composed for four voices, it speaks convincingly and without flowery oratory. Based on the visionary text of Henry Vaughan (1621Ð1695) the motet is a homecoming and a benediction, so to speak. Vaughan directs the reader to a country where a winged sentry stands guard Ñ the winged sentry that awaits us is Peace, herself. The lines of battle, and the soldier in ranks and files are no longer commanded by military men but by one, Òborn in a manger.Ó All are invited to draw near to the flower of Peace, a Òrose which never withers.Ó Musically, the work juxtaposes stately, prophetic homophony against lilting dance-like sections which foreshadow the serenity of the beyond. The most active section also underlines (with the greatest amount of polyphony) the text, ÒOne who never changes,Ó culminating with the words, ÒThy God, thy Life, thy Cure.Ó The same rising phrases which opened the work serve as its close, ending not quietly but with renewed strength and confidence. Commissioned for Chanticleer in 2016 by
Susanne Durling. My soul, there is a country
Far beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged sentry
All skillful in the wars:

There, above noise and danger
Sweet Peace sits crowned with smiles
And One, born in a manger
Commands the beauteous files.

He is thy gracious friend
And, O my soul, awake!
Did in pure love descend
To die here for thy sake.

If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flowÕr of Peace,
The Rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress and thy ease.