On Saturday at Hammerwood Park we had a concert with Soprano and Piano. The repertoire was not what one would expect to be suitable for unequal temperament - but you can make up your own mind. The pianist, however, said that the instrument behaved as if with oxygen enriched air. The piano manufacturers need to examine whether they are in the business merely of making money from what they've been doing in a declining market, or in the business of making music. Possibly making music might arrest the decline in making money.
The programme:
Full Fathom Five (Ariel) - Jonathan Dove
Sonatine Maurice Ravel
- 2. Mouvement de menuet
- 3. Animé
Après un rêve Gabriel Fauré
Mandoline Gabriel Fauré
Night Florence Price
On this Island Benjamin Britten
-1. Let the florid music praise!
-2. Now the leaves are falling fast
-3. Seascape
-4. Nocturne
-5. As it is, plenty
- interval -
The Nursery Modest Mussorgsky
-1. With Nanny
-2. In the Corner
-3. The Beetle
-4. With the Doll
-5. At Bedtime
Gradus ad Parnassum (Children's Corner) - Claude Debussy
La Courte Paille Francis Poulenc
-1. Le sommeil
-2. Quelle aventure!
-3. La reine de coeur
-4. Ba, be, bi, bo, bu
-5. Les anges musiciens
-6. Le carafon
-7. Lune d'avril
Ravel Fauré Debussy Benjamin Britten Florence Price Poulenc Mussorgsky in unequal temperament
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For anyone enjoying the recital below are the words -
Après un rêve Gabriel Fauré ⧫ Romain Bussine
In sleep made sweet by a vision of you I dreamed of happiness, fervent illusion,
Your eyes were softer, your voice pure and ringing, You shone like a sky that was lit by the dawn;
You called me and I departed the earth To flee with you toward the light,
The heavens parted their clouds for us, We glimpsed unknown splendours, celestial fires.
Alas, alas, sad awakening from dreams! I summon you, O night, give me back your delusions;
Return, return in radiance, Return, O mysterious night!
Mandoline Gabriel Fauré ⧫ Paul Verlaine
The gallant serenaders And their fair listeners
Exchange sweet nothings Beneath singing boughs.
Tirsis is there, Aminte is there, And tedious Clitandre too,
And Damis who for many a cruel maid Writes many a tender song.
Their short silken doublets, Their long trailing gowns,
Their elegance, their joy, And their soft blue shadows
Whirl madly in the rapture Of a grey and roseate moon,
And the mandolin jangles on In the shivering breeze.
Night Florence Price ⧫ Louise C. Wallace
Night comes, a Madonna clad in scented blue. Rose red her mouth and deep her eyes,
She lights her stars, and turns to where, Beneath her silver lamp the moon,
Upon a couch of shadow lies A dreamy child, The wearied Day.
1. Let the florid music praise! (On this Island) Benjamin Britten ⧫ W. H. Auden
Let the florid music praise, The flute and the trumpet,
Beauty's conquest of your face: In that land of flesh and bone,
Where from citadels on high Her imperial standards fly, Let the hot sun Shine on, shine on.
O but the unlov'd have had power, The weeping and striking,
Always; time will bring their hour: Their secretive children walk
Through your vigilance of breath To unpardonable death, And my vows break Before his look.
2. Now the leaves are falling fast (On this Island) Benjamin Britten ⧫ W. H. Auden
Now the leaves are falling fast, Nurse's flowers will not last;
Nurses to the graves are gone, And the prams go rolling on.
Whisp'ring neighbours, left and right, Pluck us from the real delight;
And the active hands must freeze Lonely on the sep'rate knees.
Dead in hundreds at the back Follow wooden in our track,
Arms raised stiffly to reprove In false attitudes of love.
Starving through the leafless wood Trolls run scolding for their food;
And the nightingale is dumb, And the angel will not come.
Cold, impossible, ahead Lifts the mountain's lovely head
Whose white waterfall could bless Travellers in their last distress.
3. Seascape (On this Island) Benjamin Britten ⧫ W. H. Auden
Look, stranger, at this island now The leaping light for your delight discovers,
Stand stable here And silent be, That through the channels of the ear
May wander like a river The swaying sound of the sea.
Here at the small field's ending pause Where the chalk wall falls to the foam, and its tall ledges
Oppose the pluck And knock of the tide, And the shingle scrambles
after the sucking surf, and the gull lodges A moment on its sheer side.
Far off like floating seeds the ships Diverge on urgent voluntary errands;
And the full view Indeed may enter And move in memory as now these clouds do,
That pass the harbour mirror And all the summer through the water saunter.
4. Nocturne (On this Island) Benjamin Britten ⧫ W. H. Auden
Now through night's caressing grip Earth and all her oceans slip,
Capes of China slide away From her fingers into day
And th' Americas incline Coasts towards her shadow line.
Now the ragged vagrants creep Into crooked holes to sleep:
Just and unjust, worst and best, Change their places as they rest:
Awkward lovers like in fields Where disdainful beauty yields:
While the splendid and the proud Naked stand before the crowd
And the losing gambler gains And the beggar entertains:
May sleep's healing power extend Through these hours to our friend.
Unpursued by hostile force, Traction engine, bull or horse
Or revolting succubus; Calmly till the morning break Let him lie, then gently wake.
5. As it is, plenty (On this Island) Benjamin Britten ⧫ W. H. Auden
As it is, plenty; As it's admitted The children happy And the car, the car That goes so far
And the wife devoted: To this as it is, To the work and the banks Let his thinning hair
And his hauteur Give thanks, give thanks.
All that was thought As like as not, is not When nothing was enough But love, but love
And the rough future Of an intransigent nature And the betraying smile, Betraying, but a smile:
That that is not, is not; Forget, forget.
Let him not cease to praise Then his spacious days; Yes, and the success Let him bless, let him bless:
Let him see in this The profits larger And the sins venal, Lest he see as it is
The loss as major And final, final.
1. With Nanny (The Nursery) Modest Mussorgsky
Tell me, Nanny, Tell me, dear Nanny,
The story of the dreadful bogey‐man, And how he used to roam through the forests,
And how he carried off children into the wood, And devoured their white bones,
And how the children cried out and wept!
Nanny dear! Was that why the bogey‐man ate up the children,
Because they had upset their old Nanny, And disobeyed their father and mother?
Was that why he ate them up, Nanny dear?
No, wait: Tell me instead about the Tsar and the Tsaritsa, Who lived by the sea in a rich palace.
The Tsar was always limping, And where he stumbled, a mushroom grew up.
The Tsaritsa always had a cold, And when she sneezed, it made the windows crack!
Listen, Nanny dear, Don't tell me about the boogey‐man again!
Let's leave him alone! Tell me the other story, the funny one!
2. In the Corner (The Nursery) Modest Mussorgsky
Oh, you naughty boy! You've tangled my wool, and messed up my needles.
Really! You've made me drop all my stitches! This sock is all splattered with ink!
Go into the corner! Into the corner! Off with you into the corner! You naughty boy!
I didn't do anything, Nanny dear, I never touched your sock, Nanny dear!
The kitten tangled up your wool, It was the kitten who messed up your needles;
Misha was a good boy, Misha was a clever boy. But Nanny is wicked and old, Nanny has a dirty nose.
Misha is nice and clean, and his hair is properly brushed, But Nanny's cap is all crooked.
Nanny has upset Misha, and put him in the corner for no reason at all:
Misha won't love his Nanny any more, so there!
3. The Beetle (The Nursery) Modest Mussorgsky
Nanny, Nanny dear! Listen what's happened, Nanny darling!
I was playing there on the sand, behind the summer‐house, by the birch‐trees,
Building a little house out of maple twigs, Those which Mama had cut for me.
I'd already finished building the little house, A little house with a roof, a proper little house,
when suddenly... ! There, right on the roof, a beetle was sitting,
A huge, black one, with his whiskers bristling so fearfully, And staring straight at me!
I was terrified! Then he started buzzing and getting angry,
He opened his wings wide, and wanted to grab hold of me... !
Then he flew at me and hit me on the forehead!
I hid myself, Nanny dear, and crouched down; I was afraid to move!
I just peeped out of one eye, And listen, Nanny, what do you think,
The beetle lay there on his back, with his feet folded and his nose in the air,
And he wasn't angry any more, and his whiskers weren't bristling.
Do you think he was dead, or just pretending?
What do you think, Nanny, what was up with the beetle?
He hit me, and then fell down! What was he up to, that beetle?
4. With the Doll (The Nursery) Modest Mussorgsky
Dolly, bye, bye, Dolly, sleep, go to sleep, Lie down quietly! Dolly! It's time to go to sleep!
Dolly, sleep, go to sleep, or the boogey‐man will eat you up, the big bad wolf will get you,
And take you away into the dark forest.
Dolly, sleep, go to sleep! Tell me about your dreams:
About the wonderful island where they don't reap or sow,
And where luscious pear‐trees blossom and ripen,
And where all day and night golden birds sing! Bye, bye, lullaby, bye, bye, Dolly!
5. At Bedtime (The Nursery) Modest Mussorgsky
God bless Mummy and Daddy, and keep them safe, O Lord!
God bless my brothers Vasenka and Mishenka! God bless my old granny,
Give her good health, She's such a good granny, a dear old granny, Lord!
And protect, O God, my aunties Katya, Natasha, Masha, Parasha,
And my aunties Lyuba, Varya, Sasha, Olya, Tanya and Nadya,
And my uncles Petya and Kolya, my uncles Volodya and Grisha and
Sasha, and all of them, O Lord, protect and bless them all, and
Philya and Vanya and Mitya and Petya and Dasha, And Pasha, Sonya, Dunyusha...
Nanny, O Nanny! How does it go next?
Really, what a scatterbrain! How many times have I told you:
God bless me and forgive my sins!
God bless me and forgive my sins! Is that right, Nanny dear?
1. Le sommeil (La Courte Paille) Francis Poulenc ⧫ Maurice Carême
Sleep has gone off on a journey, Gracious me! Where can it have got to?
I have rocked my little one in vain, he is crying in his cot, he has been crying ever since noon.
Where has sleep put its sand and its gentle dreams?
I have rocked my little one in vain, he tosses and turns perspiring, he sobs in his bed.
Ah! Come back, come back, sleep, on your fine race-horse!
In the dark sky, the Great Bear has buried the sun and rekindled his bees.
If baby does not sleep well he will not say good day, he will have nothing to say
to his fingers, to the milk, to the bread that greets him in the morning.
2. Quelle aventure! (La Courte Paille) Francis Poulenc ⧫ Maurice Carême
A flea, in its carriage was pulling a little elephant along gazing at the shop windows,
where diamonds were sparkling. Good gracious! Good gracious! What goings on!
Who will believe me if I tell them? The little elephant was absentmindedly sucking on a pot of jam.
But the flea took no notice, and went on pulling with a smile.
Good gracious! Good gracious! If this goes on, I shall really think I am mad!
Suddenly, along by a fence, the flea disappeared in the wind and I saw the young elephant
make off, breaking through the walls.
Good gracious! Good gracious! It is perfectly true but how shall I tell Mummy?
3. La reine de coeur (La Courte Paille) Francis Poulenc ⧫ Maurice Carême
Gently leaning on her elbow at her moon windows,
the queen waves to you, with a flower of the almond tree.
She is the queen of hearts, She can, if she wishes,
lead you in secret to strange dwellings.
Where there are no more doors, no rooms or towers
and where the young dead come to speak of love.
The queen waves to you, hasten to follow her
into her castle of hoar-frost with the lovely moon windows.
4. Ba, be, bi, bo, bu (La Courte Paille) Francis Poulenc ⧫ Maurice Carême
Ba, be, bi, bo, bu, bé! The cat has put on his boots,
he goes from door to door playing, dancing, singing.
Lice, cabbage, knee, owl. "You must learn to read, to count, to write," they cry to him on all sides.
But rikketikketau, the cat bursts out laughing, as he goes back to the castle: He is Puss in Boots!
5. Les anges musiciens (La Courte Paille) Francis Poulenc ⧫ Maurice Carême
On the fields of rain, the Thursday angels play all day upon the harp.
And beneath their fingers, Mozart tinkles deliciously, in drops of blue joy.
For it is always Mozart that is repeated endlessly by the angel musicians,
Who, all day Thursday, sing on their harps the sweetness of the rain.
6. Le carafon (La Courte Paille) Francis Poulenc ⧫ Maurice Carême
"Why," complained the carafe, "should I not have a baby carafe?
At the zoo, Madame the giraffe has not she a baby giraffe?"
A sorcerer who happened to be passing by astride a phonograph,
recorded the lovely soprano voice of the carafe and let Merlin hear it.
"Very good," said he, ""Very good!" He clapped his hands three times
and the lady of the house still asks herself why she found that very morning
a pretty little baby carafe nestling close to the carafe
just as in the zoo, the baby giraffe rests its long, fragile neck against the pale flank of the giraffe.
7. Lune d'avril (La Courte Paille) Francis Poulenc ⧫ Maurice Carême
Moon,
beautiful moon, April moon,
let me see in my sleep the peach-tree with the saffron heart,
the fish who laughs at the sleet, the bird who,
distant as a hunting horn, gently awakens the dead
and above all, above all, the land where there is joy, where there is light,
where sunny with primroses, all the guns have been destroyed
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David Pinnegar BSc ARCS
Hammerwood Park, East Grinstead, Sussex, UK
+44 1342 850594
"High Definition" Tuning
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