Help everyone enjoy the music.Please do not take any photos or record any part of the performance, and remember to silence your mobile devices. On behalf of the artist and the rest of the audience, we thank you.

2020 Terrance W. Schwab

Vocal Rising StarsThe Art of Pleasure

Sunday / March 15, 2020 / 3:00pm / Music Room

Elaine Daiber, sopranoSiena Licht Miller, mezzo-sopranoTerrence Chin-Loy, tenorThomas West, baritoneShawn Chang, piano

MentorsSteven Blier, Artistic Director and pianoMichael Barrett, coach and piano

Please see the concert program for artists biographies, credits, and information about the Vocal Rising Stars program at Caramoor.

Caramoor

The Program.

INTERMISSION

CLAUDE DEBUSSY(1862–1918)

Petite suite: En bateau

XAVIER MONTSALVATGE(1912–2002)

Cançó amorosa

EDUARDO TOLDRÀ (1895–1962)

Maig

PAOLO TOSTI(1846–1916)

Marechiare

OCEANSIDE IN THE SUMMER

RUGGERO LEONCAVALLO(1857–1919)

Sérénade napolitaine

FRANZ LEHÁR(1870–1948)

“Schön wie die blaue Sommernacht”from Giuditta

SERGEI RACHMANINOFF(1873–1943)

Sleep, Op. 38, No. 5

JOHANNES BRAHMS(1833–1897)

SLEEP

ROMANCE

JOHN MUSTO(b. 1954)

Calypso

Shawn Chang and Steven Blier

Elaine Daiber

Siena Licht Miller

Terrence Chin-Loy

Terrence Chin-Loy

Elaine Daiber

Elaine Daiber and Terrence Chin-Loy

Siena Licht Miller and Thomas West

The Ensemble

Thomas West

“Cançó de grumet” from A l’ombra del lledoner

“Ruhe, Sußliebchen” from Die schöne Magelone

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RAY DAVIES (The Kinks)(b. 1944)

LEONARD BERNSTEIN(1918–1990)

THE DOWN-LOW

ASTOR PIAZZOLLA(1921–1992) arranged by Pablo Ziegler

JONATHAN DOVE(b. 1859)

Lola

It’s Gotta Be Bad to Be Good

Fuga y misterio

“Between Your Sheets” from Five Am’rous Sighs

JERRY LEIBER(1933–2011)MIKE STOLLER(b. 1933)

Humphrey Bogart

TOM LEHRER (b. 1928)

Poisoning Pigeons in the Park

CAMILLE SAINT-SAËNS(1835–1921)

Aimons-nous

ROBERT WADSWORTH LOWRY(1826–1899)

How Can I Keep From Singing

“Heaven” from Hotel C’est L’AmourMICHAEL JOHN LACHIUSA(b. 1962)

PEACE

GUILTY PLEASURES

GABRIEL KAHANE(b. 1981)

Opera Scene, from Craigslistlieder

Shawn Chang and Steven Blier

Siena Licht Miller

Elaine Daiber

Thomas West

Terrence Chin-Loy

Elaine Daiber

Thomas West

Terrence Chin-Loy

Siena Licht Miller

The Ensemble

“Ruhe, Sußliebchen” from Die schöne Magelone

Caramoor

About the Music.The idea for this program came to me a few years ago over breakfast one morning. The gentle, rational voices of NPR’s morning announcers couldn’t disguise the sheer cruelty and greed detailed in the day’s news. My antipathy to the word “tweet” was ballooning and my blood pressure spiking. I needed a quick mental vacation, a fantasy trip to the seashore. And I soon realized I was not alone — everyone I knew needed a break, a reminder of the things that make life worth living. Bingo! A perfect program idea: we’d evoke the thrill of romance, the fascination of dreams. The deep pleasure of song could transport us to the beauty of summertime at the shore.

As the day wore on, I realized that there are other pleasures equally important, if less socially acceptable: guilty compulsions, louche love affairs we can’t tell anyone about, gratifications that fall outside the norm. However taboo, these pleasure have proved to be catnip to composers. They adda welcome touch of vinegar and salt to the sweetness and light. The smorgasbord was complete.

Today’s repertoire is a typical NYFOS mash-up of art song, operetta, musical theater, and folk music. Some of the composers are well-known masters who need only a bit of annotation to put them in context. Franz Lehár, who wrote The Merry Widow, gives us a sexy tango from his last operetta, Giuditta; Leonard Bernstein offers a rarity, a recently discovered torch song from the 1940s called “It’s Got to Be Bad to Be Good”; the iconic American satirist Tom Lehrer brings us the cheerful “Poisoning Pigeons in the Park”; Camille Saint-Saëns (Samson and Delilah, The Carnival of the Animals) stops time with one of his most beautiful art songs, “Aimons-nous”; and Johannes Brahms makes an all-too-rare NYFOS appearance with a breathtaking lullaby from Die schöne Magelone. While Brahms never wrote an opera, this massive narrative cycle, comprised of 15 aria-length songs plus narration, is as close as he ever came to a theatrical work.

We also hear from two icons of the late-Romantic era. The one-hit wonder Ruggiero Leoncavallo (of I Pagliacci fame) serves up a bracing jig en français whose tune is a guaranteed earworm, the enchanting “Sérénade napolitaine.” And there is a masterwork by Sergei Rachmaninoff: “Dream,” a hymn to the movie screen we visit every night in our sleep. I think it his most beautiful work for voice and piano (a very high bar), and it was among the last songs he ever wrote. After he emigrated to America in 1917, his only new vocal work was a set of three Russian folk song arrangements for chorus in 1927.

It makes me happy to include John Musto among the composers most likely to be familiar to a NYFOS audience. The music of this native New Yorker has graced our programs for decades, and his songs now get sung in recitals throughout the States and in Europe. He wrote “Calypso” for us in 1996 when we paired 10 commissioned pieces (for up-to-four voices and up-to-four hands) with the Brahms Liebeslieder Waltzes. John’s quartet was one of the best of the evening. He took a poem W. H. Auden had written as a lyric for the young Benjamin Britten, which Britten turned into a rangy, rapid-fire cabaret song. The poem makes it quite clear that the song is meant to be a calypso, but Britten’s music sidesteps the Jamaican rhythm of the words altogether. Musto latches onto Auden’s calypso and — in my opinion — outdoes his British colleague for humor, tunefulness, and character.

The other composers might be somewhat less well known, so I offer a footnote or two. Catalan music is one of my passions, and we have art songs by two of Catalonia’s leading musicians, Eduardo Toldrà and Xavier Montsalvatge. Given Catalonia’s proximity to southern France, it was natural for Barcelona’s musicians to temper Spanish passion with the gentle sensuality of French Impressionism. The result was a uniquely atmospheric musical language. Montsalvatge was one of Catalonia’s most adventurous artists, boldly drawing on lyrical and avant-garde elements from

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both sides of the Atlantic over the span of a 65-year career. I think of him as the Picasso of Spanish music, constantly experimenting and absorbing new ideas. Eduardo Toldrà is a more typical Catalan voice: elegant, yielding, and wistful. While more conservative than Montsalvatge, he is capable of casting a musical spell which you’ll hear in his magical songs “Maig” and “Canço de grumet.” Even at his tenderest (as in “Canço amorosa”), Montsalvatge shows off his swarthy masculinity, while Toldrá (even at his most aggressive) always affirms the patrician power of sweetness.

Francesco Paolo Tosti was the king of the salon song back when live after-dinner entertainment was de rigueur in the best houses. He came from a humble background, but from a young age he developed a knack for finding patrons of wealth and influence. His catchy tunes ultimately ingratiated him to Queen Victoria, and in 1880 he was hired as the resident singing master to the Royal Family. He rapidly became a European superstar. “Marechiare,” a jaunty hymn to a seaside neighborhood in Naples, celebrates the town where Tosti attended conservatory.

Leading off the section called “The Down-Low” is a song by the English composer Jonathan Dove (b. 1959). His operas are making their way into the American repertory, particularly his airport dramedy Flight. Dove’s music embraces a broad spectrum of styles. He’s got a wicked sense of  humor and the timing of a Broadway pro, as evidenced by his comic opera The Enchanted Pig. But his palette also includes minimalism and romanticism, rhythmic drive and stark stasis. For today’s concert we’re presenting the first of his Five Am’rous Sighs, in which a piano ostinato provides a hypnotic background for a secret confession of lesbian attraction.

Dove’s sweetly ecstatic song gives way to Bernstein’s down-and-dirty blues in praise of kinky sex, a song he tossed off in the early 1940s which has only recently seen the light of day. And since we’re talking about kinks, how about

a song by…The Kinks? This iconic rock group flourished in the mid-‘60s, peaked in the early ‘70s, and managed to remained active well into the ‘90s. Few rock ’n roll songs are suitable to the recital format — they’re usually guitar-oriented, noisy, and sweatily in-your-face. When baritone Johnathan McCullough suggested this song for an earlier version of this program, I admit I was skeptical. But “Lola” turned out to have a well-written lyric that told a good story, and chord progressions that fell graciously under my hands. Blessings on McCullough for introducing me to a song everyone but me already knew — although few seemed to have understood what it was actually about.

It’s just a hop, skip, and jump from bedroom kinks to behavioral aberrations of an obsessive nature. We’ve paired Tom Lehrer’s evergreen classic “Poisoning Pigeons in the Park” with two more American songs in praise of compulsion. “Humphrey Bogart,” the first of them, is by the songwriting team of Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, best known for the rock ‘n roll hits they wrote in the 1950s — “Love Potion #9,” “Hound Dog,” “Jailhouse Rock,” “Stand By Me,” and a host of others. In the mid-1970s the songwriting duo began to write arty cabaret-style material, often with a political message. Peggy Lee’s 1975 album Mirrors was devoted entirely to these Kurt Weill-ish songs, and soon after that William Bolcom and his wife Joan Morris released their own piano-and-voice LP with more Leiber and Stoller gems. That is where I first heard “Humphrey Bogart,” which we include as a tribute to a modern vice: binge-watching.

The NYFOS audience may remember Gabriel Kahane’s Craiglistlieder from our 2010 program The Newest Deal. Kahane’s 2007 song cycle became his calling card — indeed, I first met him when a mutual friend, Charlotte Dobbs, brought Gabe over to my place where he sat down at my piano and performed the entire 20-minute work for me. I was bowled over by his pianistic skills, his vocal acrobatics, and his sheer chuztpah. It’s no surprise that Craigslistlieder, whose lyrics are lifted from

Caramoor

written by his friend Doris Plenn — “When tyrants tremble, sick with fear…” This was a reference to the recent McCarthy trials where Seeger had been found guilty and was sentenced to a year in jail. Saved by a legal technicality, he never had to serve his time.

I am not naïve enough to think that song alone can protect us from tyrants, madmen, or tweeting narcissists. But it can coalesce us into meaningful action. It can give us comfort. It can provide a respite of beauty, a reminder of our shared humanity, and support for our appetites. The vibration of song is a ripple that can become a wave. May we all meet again in sweeter times, propelled and buoyed up by music!

— Steven Blier

personal ads on the Internet, has become an instant classic since its premiere. It functions on so many levels simultaneously: the songs are LOL funny but also strangely touching, completely modern in their texts while hewing closely to the values of great songwriters of the past. In the cycle’s finale, “Opera Scene,” Gabe honors — and parodies —Bernstein, Stravinsky, Wolf, Handel, and Rossini, transforming them into a unique brew of ironic beauty and serious comedy.

I’ve reserved the deepest pleasures for last: the warmth of love, the life-giving energy of faith, and the power of song to lead us out of darkness. Saint-Saëns’ pristine “Aimons-nous et dormons” is a prelude to a song by Michael John LaChiusa, “Heaven,” originally written for an unproduced musical by this prolific composer/lyricist. LaChiusa has written a slew of off-Broadway shows, including First Lady Suite, Hello Again, and Queen of the Mist, as well as two that played on the Great White Way, Marie Christine and Wild Party. His work might be a bit too arty for the tourist crowd, but he is prized by some of our greatest exponents of musical theater including Audra McDonald and Mary Testa. It was the latter who brought me today’s song. Programming a recent gala in celebration of NYFOS’ 30th anniversary, I asked Mary to sing a modern song that she thought would still be sung in 30 years. “Heaven” was her suggestion, and I fell for it instantly. I shall play my part in keeping it alive for the next three decades.

The show ends with an American classic, as arranged by Broadway’s premier orchestrator David Krane. I had always assumed that “How Can I Keep from Singing” was a traditional Quaker tune, since it appears in hymnals and has become associated with Quaker services. But the melody is actually the handiwork of the 19th-century Baptist minister and hymn-composer Robert Lowry. (He didn’t claim credit for the lyrics, which seem to go farther back in history.) Pete Seeger was the first to bring this song to a mass audience during the folk music boom of the 1950s. He toned down some of the overtly religious imagery of the original, and he also included a modern verse

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Texts and translations.Cançó amorosa (Love song) (1948)

Music by Xavier Montsalvatge (1912–2002)Poem by Tomàs Garcés (1901–1993)

Voldría ser marineri durte a la meva vora;la vela iria pel marcom un cavall blanc que corre,el vent posaria olor de fonollentre les cordesi l’ona es faria en llàdeixant el camí a la proa.

Passarien els vaixellsfent voleiar les banderes.Mariners, cap on aneu,cap on aneu tan de presa?potser cerqueu un tresorperdut en la mar deserta?

Jo els veuria com se’n van,sense mica de recança.Els teus ulls són mon tresor,poc he de cercarne d’altre. Quina joia, al teu costat,veure la terra allunyarsei seguir en les nits d’agostles estrelles que es desmaien.

On tu giressis l’esguardel vent ens hi portaria,t’escoltarien la veuels peixos i les gavinesels focs ardents de Sant Elma dalt dels pals s’encendrieni veuries que al teu pasla terra i el mar sospiren.

I would like to be a sailorAnd have you beside me;The sail would move through the seaLike a white horse that runs,The wind would smell of parsleyBetween the ropes And the wave would gather over yonderLeaving a path for our prow.

Ships would pass by usWaving their flags.Sailors, where are you going,Where are you going so fast?Is it that you are looking for treasureLost in the deserted sea? I would watch them go awayWithout any regret. Your eyes are my treasure,I don’t need to seek any other. What happiness at your side, To see the land receding,And to follow in the August nights The fading stars.

Wherever you turn your glanceThe wind would take us,Your voice would be heard By the fish and the seagulls.The blaze of Saint Elmo’s fireWould burst into flame at top of the mastAnd you would see as you passThe land and the sea sighing.

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“Cançó de grumet” from A l’ombra del lledoner (1924)(The cabin-boy’s song from In the shade of the nettle tree)

Music of Eduardo Toldrà (1895–1962)Poem by Tomàs Garcés (1901–1993)

Adéu, turons de Marsella,ja s’en van els mariners.Tot just hem hissat la velaes gira un oratge fresc.Aquell pinar de la costadeu ser ple de cants d’ocell;si no sentim l’ocelladaens du romaní l’oreig.Quin goig, de bon dematí,seguir la darrera estrella:“no hi ha lliri sense florni barco sense bandera.”

Infla’t vela, llisca vela!Com s’allunya la ciutat!Guaita l’or clar de la platjai a dalt de tot el cel clar.Timoner, potse sospires?l’enyorança t’ha punxat?El gallaret llengotejai enjoia tota la nau.Quin goig, cremant sobre els pals,el gallaret de la festa:“no hi ha lliri sense florni barco sense bandera.”

¡Adéu, turons de Marsella!¡Adéu, la noia i el pi!No ens espanten les ventadesni la boira de la nit.Si el vent xiula entre les cordes,demá el mar serà ben llis.A cada port ens espera,amorós, un llavi fi.Quin goig, tornant de la mar,el petó d’una donzella:“no hi ha lliri sense florni barco sense bandera.”

Farewell to the hills of Marseilles!The sailors are now casting off.The sails have just been hoistedAnd a fresh breeze is risingThat pine forest by the coastMust be filled with birdsong;Even if we don’t hear their serenade,We’ll breathe the scent of rosemary.What joy at daybreakTo follow the last star:“There is no lily without a flower,No ship without a banner!”

Let the sail billow and glide!How distant the city becomes.Behold the sparkling gold of the beachAnd the clear blue sky above.Steersman, why are you sighing? Are you gripped by homesickness?The banner waves proudly in the airAnd gladdens the whole ship.What joy, shining out over the masts,The festival pennant:“There is no lily without a flower,No ship without a banner!”

Farewell to the hills of Marseilles!Farewell to the girls, and the pine-trees!We fear neither the windsNor the nighttime fog.If the wind whistles through the ropesTomorrow the sea will be calm.In every port a sweet kissWaits for lovers like us.What a joy, after being at sea,A woman’s embrace!“There is no lily without a flower,No ship without a banner!”

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Maig (May) (1920)

Music by Eduardo Toldrá (1895–1962)Poem by Trinitat Catasús (1887–1940)

Terra qui floreix,mar qui s’hi encanta,suavíssim bleixde vida triomfanta.

Pluges cristallines,aigües reflexanttendrors infantinesqui riuen brillant.

Claredat sonora,núvol qui s’hi perd,aura qui eixamorala tendror del verd.

Bordoneig suaud’abelles, profunda,silenciosa paud’una hora fecunda.

Món rejovenit,amor que hi esclata,deliciós oblitde les nits de plata.

Quan el pleniluni,de Maig, silenciós,de qualque infortunisembla dir a les flors.

Earth in bloom,Sea enchanted by the flowering,Sweetest breath Of life in exultation.

Crystalline raindrops,Waters reflectingTender childrenLaughing with joy.

Deep, reverberating brightness,Cloud dispersing,A breeze which waftsThe moisture from the tender green shoots.

Soft buzzingOf the bees, deepSilent peace Of a bountiful hour.

The world rejuvenated,Love flourishing,Delicious oblivionOf silver-edged nights.

When the full moonOf May, silent,Seems to be telling the flowersOf an impending misfortune.

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Marechiare (1886)

Music by Paolo Tosti (1846–1916) Poem by Salvatore di Giacomo (1860–1934)

Quanno sponta la luna a Marechiare,Pure li pisce ’nce fann’s l’ammore,Se revoltano l’onne de lu mare,Pe la priezza cagneno culore,Quanno sponta la luna a Marechiare.

A Marechiare ’nce sta fenesta,La passione mia ’nce tuzzulea;Nu caro fano addora int’s na testa,Passa l’acque pe sotto a murmurlèa:A Marechiare ’nce sta na fenesta.

Chi dice ca li stelle so lucente Nun sape st’uochhie ca tu tiene ’nfronte!Sti doje stele li saccio io solamente,Discendono le punte in questo core!Chi dice ca li stelle so lucente.

Dèstati, che la sera è tutto incanto,E mai per tanto tempo io t’ho aspettata!Per accoppiar gli accordi al mesto cantoStasera una chitarra ho qui portata!Dèstati, che la sera è tutto incanto!

When the moon comes out in Marechiare,Even the fish tremble with love,They ride the waves in the deep embrace of the sea, And they change color from sheer joy. When the moon comes out in Marechiare.

In Marechiare a balcony smiles, And there my passion takes wing;Under it the water sings a song,And nearby a carnation spreads its fragrance. In Marechiare a balcony smiles.

Whoever says that the stars shine brightlyHas never seen the splendor of your eyes!I know well those burning rays,They pierce right through my heart!Whoever says that the stars shine brightly.

Awaken, for the evening is filled with magic,And I have awaited you for such a long time!To strum the chords of my sad songThis evening I have brought along a guitar! Awaken, for the evening is filled with magic!

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“Ruhe, Sußliebchen” (“Sleep, my sweet love”) from Die schöne Magelone (1869)

Music by Johannes Brahms (1833–1897)Poem by Ludwig Tieck (1773–1853)

Ruhe, Süßliebchen, im SchattenDer grünen, dämmernden Nacht:Es säuselt das Gras auf den Matten,Es fächelt und kühlt dich der SchattenUnd treue Liebe wacht.Schlafe, schlaf ein,Leiser rauscht der Hain,Ewig bin ich dein.

Schweigt, ihr versteckten Gesänge,Und stört nicht die süßeste Ruh’!Es lauschet der Vögel Gedränge,Es ruhen die lauten Gesänge,Schließ, Liebchen, dein Auge zu.Schlafe, schlaf ein,Im dämmernden Schein,Ich will dein Wächter sein.

Murmelt fort, ihr Melodien,Rausche nur, du stiller Bach.Schöne LiebesphantasienSprechen in den Melodien,Zarte Träume schwimmen nach.Durch den flüsternden HainSchwärmen goldne BieneleinUnd summen zum Schlummer dich ein.

Rest, my sweet love, in the shade Of the green twilit night:The grass is rustling in the meadows,The shade fans you, cools you,And your true love stands guard.Sleep, go to sleep,The grove gently rustles,I am yours forever.

Be silent, you hidden songs, And do not disturb her sweetest rest! The flock of birds listens,Their loud songs are still,Close your eyes, my beloved. Sleep, go to sleep, In the glow of evening,I shall be your guardsman.

Murmur on, you melodies,Rush on, you quiet stream. Beautiful fantasies of loveSpeak through those melodies,Sweet dreams swim in their wake.Through the whispering groveSwarm golden beesAnd their buzzing is a lullaby for you.

Caramoor

It has two wide,Wide wings,And they are light, as lightAs the dark of midnight.No one knows how you are carried aloft,From where, and upon what.His wing is still,And his shoulder motionless.

Sleep, Opus 38, #5 (1916)

Music by Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873–1943) Poem by Feodor Sologub (1863–1927)

Nothing in this world Is more longed for than sleep. It can beguile,It brings tranquility. On its lips There is neither sadness nor laughter.And in its unfathomable eyesThere are many hidden delights.

Music Gifts to Inspire!

For the music lover who likes to explore: Gift CertificatesCertificates are available for any value.Contact boxoffice@caramoor.org

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Tickets & Info:caramoor.org or call 914.232.1252

June 20 / Jazz At Lincoln Center Orchestra with Wynton Marsalis

July 9 / JIJIGuitar in the Garden

July 30 / Kitka

July 16 / Pekka Kuusisto

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July 30 / Kitka

Sérénade napolitaine (Neapolitan serenade) (1890s)

Music by Ruggiero Leoncavallo (1857–1919) Poem by E. Collet

Joyeux troubadour,Je veux nuit et jourChanter mon amour, ma belle!Je suis près de toi, le cœur plein d’émoi,Prends pitié de moi, cruelle!Encore une fois, méchante!Ecoute ma voix qui chante:La vie est d’aimer! Je veux t’adorer,Et cueillir un dernier baiser!

Reçois mes aveux,Réponds à mes vœux,C’est toi que je veux, mon brave!Vivre auprès de toiC’est le sort d’un Roi,Viens, et sois à moi suave!Pour toi j’oublierais la vieEt me damnerais, ravie ! La vie est d’aimer ! Je veux t’adorer,Et cueillir un dernier baiser!

Voici les beaux jours, Le temps des amours,Partons pour toujours, ensemble!Partons tous les deux Vers les pays bleusLe ciel nos deux vœux rassemble !Sous le ciel charmant du rêve Que notre roman s’achève!La vie est d’aimer! Je veux t’adorer,Mourons dans un dernier baiser !

As a joyous troubadour,I want night and dayTo sing of my love, my beauty!I am near you, my heart bursting with emotion, Take pity on me, heartless woman! One more time, you naughty girl!Listen to my voice as it sings:Life is made for love! I want to adore you,And snatch up one last kiss! Receive my confession,Respond to my desires,It is you I want, my valiant boy!To live by your sideIs a fate for a king,Come and be my gallant!For you I would forget the world,I would risk damnation, with pleasure!Life is made for love! I want to adore you, And snatch up one last kiss!

The beautiful days are here,Days made for love,Let us leave forever, the two of us!Let’s fly away together,To far off landsHeaven smiles on our wishes!Under the charming sky of dreamsLet us fulfill our love story!Life is made for love! I want to adore you,Let us die in one last kiss!

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Octavio: Giuditta…

Giuditta: What was that, dear, what were you just thinking of ?

Octavio: Of you…of our happiness!

Beautiful as the blue summer night,As wonderful as the southern flowersAre you, my sweet woman. And I love your pure body, And I love the glow of your eyesAnd your wild, hot blood!

Giuditta: Beautiful as a sweet fairytale dreamIs every day, they go by, and I hardly feel it!How full is my heart, And it rejoices, full of bliss,And the earth dons her wedding dress.Everything breathes love!

Octavio: Tell me, isn’t the world so magically beautifulFor us alone? And the caressing breezes, Don’t they blow for us alone?

Giuditta: All the roses glow, all the flowers bloom, And the world, it is mine!

Octavio: If my arms embrace you, If your heart gives itself to me, Yes, to me alone, Will it always and forever be so?

Giuditta: I came to you, as if driven by fate, To you—oh stay with me! Hold me tight, because if you leave me,My heart will die—my poor heart, My restless heart!

“Schön wie die blaue Sommernacht” (“Beautiful as a blue summer night”)from Giuditta (1934)

Music by Franz Lehár (1870–1948) Libretto by Paul Knepler (1879–1967) and Fritz Löhner (1883–1942)

Octavio: Giuditta…

Giuditta: Was hast Du, Liebster, woran dachtest Du eben?

Octavio: An dich,…an unser Glück!

Schön, wie die blaue Sommernacht,So wunderschön, wie des Südens BlütenprachtBist du, mein süßes Weib, Und ich liebe deinen weißen Leib, Und ich lieber deiner Augen GlutUnd dein wildes, heißes Blut!

Giuditta: Schön wie ein holder MärchentraumIst jeder Tag, er vergeht, ich fühl es kaum!Wie wird mein Herz so weit und es jubelt voller Seligkeit und die Erde trägt ihr Hochzeitskleid, alles atmet Liebe!

Octavio: Sag’, ist die Welt nicht so zauberhaft schönFür uns allein? und die shmeichelnden Lüfte,Sie weh’n für uns allein?

Giuditta: Alle Rosen erglüh’n, alle Blumen erblüh’n, Und die Welt, sie ist mein!

Octavio: Wenn mein Arm dich umfängt, wenn dein Herz sich mir schenkt, ja nur mir ganz allein, wird es immer und ewig so sein?

Giuditta: Ich kam zu dir, wie vom Schicksal getrieben,Zu dir, o bleib’ bei mir! Halt mich fest, denn wenn du mich verläßt, dann stirbt mein Herz, mein armes Herz, mein ruheloses Herz!

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Octavio: I will stay with you! I will hold you tight,Oh you, my woman, I will hold you tight, Oh you my heart, my heart!

Translation by Raquel González

Octavio: Ich bleib’ bei dir! Ich halte dich fest, O du mein Weib, ich halt dich fest,O du mein Herz, mein Herz!

Calypso (1996)

Music by John Musto (b. 1955)Poem by W. H. Auden (1907–1973)

Dríver drive fáster and máke a good rúnDown the Spríngfield Line únder the shíning sún.

Fly like an aéroplane, dón’t pull up shórtTill you bráke for Grand Céntral Státion, New Yórk. For thére in the míddle of thát waiting-hállShould be stánding the óne that Í love best of áll.

If he’s nót there to méet me when Í get to tówn,I’ll stánd on the síde-walk with téars rolling dówn.

For hé is the óne that I lóve to look ón,The ácme of kíndness and perfectión.

He présses my hánd and he sáys he loves mé,Which I fínd an admiráble pecúliarity.

The wóods are bright gréen on both sídes of the líne;The trées have their lóves though they’re dífferent from míne.

But the póor fat old bánker in the sún-parlor cárHas nó one to lóve him excépt his cigár.

If Í were the Héad of the Chúrch or the Státe,I’d pówder my nóse and just téll them to wáit.

For lóve’s more important and powerful thanÉven a priest or a politician.

I N T E R M I S S I O N

Caramoor

“Between Your Sheets” from Five Am’rous Sighs (1997)

Music by Jonathan Dove (b. 1959); Poem by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu (1689–1762)

Between your sheets you soundly sleepNor dreams of vigils that we Lovers keepWhile all the night, I waking sign your name,The tender sound does every nerve inflame,Imagination shows me all your charms,The plenteous silken hair, and waxen arms,The well-turned neck, and snowy rising breastAnd all the beauties that supinely restbetween your sheets.

Ah Lindamira, could you see my Heart,How fond, how true, how free from fraudful Art,The warmest glances poorly do explainThe eager wish, the melting throbbing painWhich through my very blood and soul I feel,Which you cannot believe nor I reveal,Which every metaphor must render lessAnd yet (methinks) which I could well expressbetween your sheets.

It’s Gotta Be Bad to Be Good (1941?)

Music and lyrics by Leonard Bernstein (1918–1990)

You don’t talk to me tender or treat me easy,The way that a good lover should.It’s not very gay, but love is that way—It’s gotta be bad to be good.

Since the first day we started you played me evil,Don’t know how I’ve stood what I’ve stood.But I’ll stay around, ‘cause baby I’ve foundIt’s gotta be bad to be good.

You say that I’ll leave you, bad penny, bye-bye,That I’ll go and deceive you with some sweeter guy.The spell that you weave you know I’ll never leave—Is it fair? I don’t care.

It’s a strange kind of love if it keeps you cryin’But I wouldn’t change it if I could. I’m in for a ride, but I’m satisfied—It’s gotta be bad to be good.

page 17

Lola (1972)

Music and lyrics by Ray Davies (of The Kinks) (b. 1944)

I met her in a club down in North SohoWhere you drink champagne and it tastes just like cherry cola,C-O-L-A cola.She walked up to me and she asked me to danceI asked her name and in a dark brown voice she said, "Lola"L-O-L-A Lola, lo-lo-lo-lo Lola.

Well, I'm not the world's most physical guyBut when she squeezed me tight she nearly broke my spineOh my Lola, lo-lo-lo-lo Lola.Well, I'm not dumb but I can't understandWhy she walk like a woman and talk like a man,Oh my Lola, lo-lo-lo-lo Lola.

Well, we drank champagne and danced all nightUnder electric candlelightShe picked me up and sat me on her kneeAnd said, “Little boy won't you come home with me?”

Well, I'm not the world's most passionate guyBut when I looked in her eyesWell, I almost fell for my LolaLo-lo-lo-lo Lola.I pushed her away, I walked to the door,I fell to the floor, I got down on my knees,I looked at her, and she at me…Well that's the way that I want it to stayAnd I always want it to be that way for my Lola,Lo-lo-lo-lo Lola.

Girls will be boys, and boys will be girlsIt's a mixed-up, muddled-up, shook-up worldExcept for Lola, lo-lo-lo-lo Lola.Well I left home just a week beforeAnd I've never ever kissed a woman beforeBut Lola smiled and took me by the handAnd said, “Little boy, gonna make you a man!”

Well I'm not the world's most masculine manBut I know what I am and I'm glad I'm a manAnd so is Lola, lo-lo-lo-lo Lola.

Caramoor

We'll murder them allAmid laughter and merrimentExcept for the fewWe take home to experiment. My pulse will be quickenin’ With each drop of strych’nineWe feed to a pigeon(It just takes a smidgin!)To poison a pigeon in the park!

Poisoning Pigeons in the Park (1959)

Music and lyrics by Tom Lehrer (b. 1928)

Spring is here, ah spring is here,Life is skittles and life is beer.I think the loveliest timeOf the year is the springI do, don't you? Course you do!But there's one thingThat makes spring complete for meAnd makes every SundayA treat for me.

All the world seems in tuneOn a spring afternoonWhen we're poisoning pigeons in the park.Every Sunday you'll seeMy sweetheart and meAs we poison the pigeons in the park.

When they see us comingThe birdies all try and hideBut they still go for peanutsWhen coated with cyanide.The sun's shining brightEverything seems all rightWhen we're poisoning pigeons in the park.

We've gained notorietyAnd caused much anxietyIn the Audubon SocietyWith our games.They call it impietyAnd lack of proprietyAnd quite a varietyOf unpleasant names.But it's not against any religionTo want to dispose of a pigeon!

So if Sunday you're freeWhy don't you come with meAnd we'll poison the pigeons in the park.And maybe we'll doIn a squirrel or twoWhile we're poisoning pigeons in the park.

page 19

With that cynical smile, the hat, the dangling cigarette, You look so keen to me that I could cry.If you would walk out of my TV set,And just be mean to me, I think I’d die!

Humphrey Bogart, come on and Humphrey me.Push me against the wall.Humphrey Bogart, come on and Bogart me,Just like you did Bacall.

Play it, Sam….

Humphrey Bogart (mid-1970s)

Music and Lyrics by Jerry Leiber (1933–2011) and Mike Stoller (b. 1933)

Humphrey Bogart, I am in love with you And every part you played.Humphrey Bogart, king of the tough guys,I’ve seen every film you’ve made.

And the greatest of all’s The Maltese Falcon.I start climbing walls when I hear you talking through your teeth.

Humphrey Bogart, I go bananas Each time you come into view.Humphrey Bogart, my favorite movie starI am in love with you

And the raincoat you wore in Casablanca.I love you ’cause you’re so masculine,

French Baroque Opera Comes to Caramoor!

Sunday / June 28 / 4:00pm / Venetian TheaterRameau’s Dardanus

Magicians, monsters, and marriage are just a few of the characters and themes in Jean-Phillipe Rameau’s rousing opera, Dardanus, which loosely follows the story of the son of Zeus and Electra. Written by the eminent 18th-century French composer, this Baroque opera’s fantastical story is brought to life by one of New York’s own superb period-instrument ensembles, led by Avi Stein, with internationally renowned soloists.

Full Calendar & Tickets: caramoor.org / 914.232.1252

The Choir of Trinity Wall Street / Trinity Baroque OrchestraAvi Stein, conductor / John La Bouchardière, director

Zachary Wilder (Dardanus)

Caramoor

Opera Scene, from Craiglistlieder (2006)

Music by Gabriel Kahane (b. 1981)Texts from anonymous sources on Craigslist.org

Hello potential roommates! I come to you today with an offer you might not be able to refuse. Due to my current roommate’s imminent departure, I have available a large furnished room on the first floor of a three-story walk-up in the heart of the East Village (4th Street and Second Avenue). There are two bedrooms in the place, and yours would be the largest. I don’t need to tell you that this is near all the cool spots, including restaurants, bars, cafes, theatres, concert halls, etc. However, the room itself is private, at the end of a long hallways, and very quiet. The dimensions are 15x17, and it has two windows which look onto our interior courtyard. Bed, wardrobe, desk, and air conditioning come with the room. $550 includes all utilities. You may be wondering why the price is so low. Well, here’s the twist: I am a 25 year old male with a slight social problem which, to some, makes me an undesirable roommate. I’ll get right to the point: I have a compulsion to put ice cubes down people’s shirts. As my roommate, you will likely bear the brunt of this problem. Don’t ask me to explain why I do this. It’s a serious psychological issue, and years of therapy haven’t helped. Let me emphasize: it will not go ANY FURTHER than the ice cubes. I am not abusive or perverted in any way, and I will never make lewd comments or touch you inappropriately. I also do not drop heavier or steaming hot objects down people’s shirts. Only ice cubes. What this means for you: when you are sitting on the couch, or at the dinner table, or basically anywhere in the apartment, I may come up to you and drop an ice cube down your shirt. I always have ice cubes on hand. DO NOT thnk you can simply get ride of all ice trays in the apartment. Trust me, I have tried this, as have various roommates. It doesn’t work, I will only buy more.

I prefer someone who does not like to have friends over, unless they understand my problem. They are prone to having ice cubes put down their shirt. Your bedroom door has a sturdy lock, so you will always be secure while sleeping. Ditto for the bathroom. I may turn the doorknob on rare instances, but a stern word is usually enough to send me on my way. On infrequent occasions, I have been known to follow someone onto the street to put an ice cube down their shirt. Once, I showed up at a roommate’s place of business. However, this was a wake-up call, and I can assure you it’s something I may not repeat. Okay, I think that covers it. As you see, this is a great room in a terrific location, for a very, very low price. Quite simply, you won’t find a deal like it anywhere in the city. However, my roommate will have to be tolerant. It takes great patience, and others have failed. It may seem like a minor problem, but eventually all the ice can become very annoying. Otherwise, I am a caring, conscientious person. I work in finance, and enjoy mountain biking on the weekends. So send me e-mail me if you’re interested! Please address the ice cube problem and how you plan to deal with it. I need to be sufficiently impressed, because I don’t want to find another roommate after one month. Ignoring the problem only makes it worse. Also include some of your favorite hobbies. My current roommate is leaving to move in with her boyfriend, but before that, we had a successful relationship for one year. She even said the ice was something of a relief in the summer months, which can become very hot. Females are preferred, but guys, don’t let that deter you! Move-in would be anytime between now and September 1. I’m flexible. Thanks for listening!

Composer’s note:N.B. This is the ad as it was found on the internet. It is the strong recommendation of the composer it be reviewed following, and not during, the performance.

$550 - Huge room available - with a twist!Reply to: hous-186020008@craigslist.orgDate: 2006-07-25, 9:58AM EDT

page 21

Aimons-nous (Let us love) (1892)

Music by Camille Saint-Saëns (1835–1921) Poem by Théodore de Banville (1823–1891)

Aimons-nous et dormonsSans songer au reste du monde!Ni le flot de la mer, ni l'ouragan des montsTant que nous nous aimonsNe courbera ta tête blonde,Car l'amour est plus fortQue les Dieux et la Mort!

Le soleil s'éteindraitPour laisser ta blancheur plus pure,Le vent qui jusqu'à terre incline la forêt,En passant n'oseraitJouer avec ta chevelure,Tant que tu cacherasTa tête entre mes bras!

Et lorsque nos deux coeursS'en iront aux sphères heureusesOù les célestes lys écloront sous nos pleurs,Alors, comme deux fleurs,Joignons nos lèvres amoureuses,Et tâchons d'épuiserLa mort dans un baiser!

Let us love one another, and let us sleepWithout a thought for the rest of the world!Neither the flood of the sea nor the hurricane in the mountains, As long as we love each other,Shall bow your head of blond curls,For love is strongerThan the Gods, than Death!

The sun would extinguish itselfTo keep your skin pure,The passing wind that bends the forest to the groundWould not dareTo dishevel your hairAs long as you hideYour head in my arms.

And when our two heartsAscend to the happy spheresWhere heavenly lilies open to our tears,Then, like two flowers,Let us join our lips in love,And let us try to conquer deathWith a kiss!

Caramoor

We’ll teach ourselves how to fly;No one to stop us,No one to hinder our flight;No one to tell us we’re heading straight to hell;No one to tell us what’s wrong or what’s right.

If there is a heaven,What is there to fear?If I can’t find heaven,At least for once, I feel it somewhere near.

Peace. Flight. Safe. Right here.

“Heaven” from Hotel C’est L’Amour (2006)

Music and lyrics by Michael John LaChiusa (b. 1962)

If there is a heavenI will take you there.If there is a no heavenWe’ll make a heaven of our own right here.

If I spy some angels,I’ll borrow a couple of wings.If there are no angels, We’ll have to teach ourselves how to fly, right here.

Paisiello’s Barber of SevilleThursday / July 9 / 7:30pmFriday / July 10 / 7:30pmSaturday / July 11 / 3:00pm

On Site Opera — known for presenting site-specific, immersive opera in some of the most exciting and unusual spaces in New York City and beyond — remounts its 2015 production of Giovanni Paisiello’s The Barber of Seville, for three special performances in the Spanish Courtyard and Music Room of Caramoor’s historic Rosen House. Updated for the early decades of the 20th century, Paisiello’s Barber stays true to its Beaumarchais roots, focusing faithfully on the love story between the Count and Rosina rather than the barber’s antics. After its premiere in 1782, the opera quickly became a staple of the repertoire and inspired a young Rossini to write his own version.

Full Calendar & Tickets: caramoor.org / 914.232.1252

page 23

How Can I Keep From Singing (1869)

Music by Robert Wadsworth Lowry (1826–1899)Anonymous poet Third verse by Doris Penn (1909–1994)Arranged by David Krane (b. 1953)

My life flows on in endless song;Above earth's lamentation,I hear the real, though far-off hymnThat hails a new creation;Above the tumult and the strifeI hear its music ringing;It sounds an echo in my soul—How can I keep from singing?

What though the tempest loudly roars,I hear the truth, it liveth;What though the darkness round me close?Songs in the night it giveth.No storm can shake my inmost calmWhile to that rock I’m clinging;Since Love is Lord of heaven and earth,How can I keep from singing?

When tyrants tremble, sick with fear,And hear their death-knell ringing,When friends rejoice both far and near,How can I keep from singing?In prison cell and dungeon vile,Our thoughts to them go winging;When friends by shame are undefiled,How can I keep from singing?

My life flows on in endless song;Above earth's lamentation,I hear the sweet, though far-off hymnThat hails a new creation;Above the tumult and the strifeI hear its music ringing;It sounds an echo in my soul—How can I keep from singing?

Translations by Steven Blier