Friday, December 9, 2011

Joy to the World! (or at least the greater Boston area): Boston Baroque Messiah




What's the best rehearsal you ever had? For this year I would have to nominate my first rehearsal with the strings of Boston Baroque. For two hours I got to sit and enjoy hearing them accompany our elegant soloists in Handel's classic Messiah. There is so much music in this group of some 16 violins, violas, cello and bass. They sing on their period instruments. They turn, articulate and color a phrase with astounding agility and ensemble - often without director Martin Pearlman conducting - and smiling all the way. (We noted that the entire string section is women. Coincidence?) They play together as a group has played this piece for twenty years. That's because they have: in 1992 they recorded their Grammy Nominated disc of the work and have been playing it every year ever since. Hearing the subtle turns of phrase they play together, I found my self breathing quickly and shallowly (bad for a singer). Not to sound cliché, but it literally took my breath away. Almost as surprising and every bit as refreshing, after all of their experience with this piece, there was much stopping to discuss how to bow downbeats, how to pace crescendi, how to accompany cadenzas. This is a fresh performance.

Yesterday was dress rehearsal in Jordan Hall with full forces. Winds, trumpets, tympani and the sublime chorus. With approximately 30 minutes between each of my solos I had the opportunity to listen to much of the piece as a privileged audience member. Now familiar with the capabilities of this group I was almost prepared to experience the fully realized performance. What I heard was nearly flawless and emotionally engaging, at times riveting. What surprised me was how full and rich and - dare I say - loud the Hallelujah chorus could be with so few musicians on stage.

After our first rehearsal I said to myself "they play this piece like I want to sing it." Wayne Abercrombie first taught me when I was a high school chorister that you are always singing to a moment, through a moment or away from a moment. This group wears its phrasing on it's sleeves. But these clear and bold phrases are not on the sleeves a Christmas sweater but an Armani suit: at once clear cut, beautiful, elegant, striking and subtle. I phrase with them, they watch and listen to me and phrase with me. How many orchestras can do that?! At the Da Capo in "Trumpet Shall Sound" I dusted off some ornaments I had written for my 2005 performance in Hill Auditorium in Ann Arbor (my first solo Messiah). Wouldn't you know, the strings and trumpet played the same ornaments! The band plays just as responsively with my colleagues Ava Pine, Julia Mintzer and Keith Jameson who are in turn fine, elegant and emotionally engaging.

This season is about bringing joy to others. This group has certainly been a joy for me and I hope we can in turn bring joy to you. I highly recommend you take a few hours (three to be exact) out of your busy holiday schedule and come to enjoy this performance. Relax, be inspired, be amazed.

For more information and tickets, visit BostonBaroque.org.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays.

- andy

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Fall 2011 Newsletter


I'll get right to the point:


This Thursday night at the Rose Theater in Lincoln Center 8PM

For more details visit the New York City Opera website. Be sure to watch the video.

Your only excuse for missing this amazing concert is if you already have tickets to the New York Festival of Song at the same time, up seven blocks from Lincoln Center.

I have other events to tell you about, like my Brown University debut, two other world premieres and a truly great Handel's Messiah and I will tell you about them soon. But come to see us and Rufus and tell your friends!

Thanks,

Andy

Monday, October 24, 2011

Make some memories: come to NYFOS



Dear Friends,

We really, really, really want to share some special music with you this week. If you were thinking about coming to In the Memory Palace, please do. If you weren't thinking of coming to In the Memory Palace, please do. If you didn't know about NYFOS' latest program entitled In The Memory Palace, please come. If you're not in New York City this week, please come. If you absolutely, under no circumstances, under pain of death cannot come, please tell all of your friends in New York to come. You'll be so glad you did.
I've spent my entire career thus far performing programs that were very hard to sell. After every recital or concert at least a dozen audience members would approach me to say that their wife/girlfriend/teacher/parent forced them to come to this concert against their will, that they didn't think they would enjoy it and that it was one of the most enjoyable, entertaining and inspiring shows they had ever seen.
Take my word for it, if you like listening to songs at all - this will be one of those concerts for you.
Tuesday, October 25
Thursday, October 27
8PM Merkin Concert Hall
129 West 67th St (Broadway and Amsterdam)
New York, NY

For more information, visit www.nyfos.org.

See you there.

- Andy


P.S. Free Wine!!

Friday, July 8, 2011

ADDENDUM to the Spring-now-Summer 2011 Newsletter


*ADDENDUM - Due to a major oversight on my part, I forgot to mention that last month Donna Loewy and I just finished recording our second album together. The disc will be called "American Portraits" and feature song cycles by Tom Cipullo, Jake Heggie, Lori Laitman and Stephen Paulus. Release on the new GPR Records will be at our next big recital to be announced... For now I can tell you we are all very very pleased with the rough cuts.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

2011 Pan Mass Challenge


Dear Friends,

My next big event is the Pan Mass Challenge August 6-7. This event is taking on more meaning for me as more loved ones in my life have been diagnosed with cancer. We feel powerless to do something about it, but there is a way we can help. Please sponsor me in my 150 mile ride. No donation is too small. Thank you.

Spring-now-Summer 2011 Newsletter


Dear Friends,

Summer is here and I'm grateful to be working on such a wonderful project: Così fan tutte at Opera Saratoga (formerly Lake George Opera.) We have just what you need for a great Così : a cast of skilled soloists who are also collaborators, and a great director - David Lefkowich - who has managed to update the production to the early 2000's and make the most insensible, ridiculous opera plot perfectly believable and poignant. Maestro David Allen Miller who is new to opera (unbeknownst to me) makes great music with us all.
While here in beautiful Saratoga I had the opportunity to work with and teach the Young Artists. There is a great group of talent here and these young singers are working very hard to improve themselves while keeping up a rigorous performance schedule. Bravi!
I also had a wonderful opportunity to work with the young singers at the Seagle Music Colony. There I found an amazing assembly of young talent, ready to show their stuff and ready to learn, also while keeping a rigorous performance schedule (and sharing kitchen duty.) Thanks to Darren Keith Woods for inviting me up to see this special place and work with the special talent. (Also thanks for coming to see our Cosi. Not bad, eh?)

Also while in Saratoga I've had the luxury of a time and place to ride my bike. This year again I am training for the Pan Mass Challenge August 6-7. This event is taking on more meaning for me as more loved ones in my life have been diagnosed with cancer. We feel powerless to do something about it, but there is a way we can help. Please sponsor me in my 150 mile ride. No donation is too small. Thank you.

Labor Day weekend I return to Maverick Concerts, this time for a masterpiece by Othmar Schoeck. His Notturno for baritone and string quartet with the excellent Daedalus Quartet. September 4.

Later that month I head for the Alamo to sing my first Mercutio with San Antonio Opera. Performances are October 1 and 2.

From there I go back to New York City to return to one of my favorite places to sing: Steven Blier's appartment. The season opener for New York Festival of Song is a program entitled Songs for One and All: An Evening of Song Cycles and Vocal Quartets. October 22 at Vocal Arts DC and October 25 and 27 at Merkin Hall.

November is the time for auditions. There are so many directors and conductors who haven't hear me yet, and many more who have not heard me lately. Personally, I'll just share with all of you that I believe that what I'm doing has a place in this mad music scene and that I will find that place (or that place will find me.)

Many you, my friends have heard me say for years "I'm going to sing more baroque music." And the same many of you have watched me not do that. Well here is what I hope will be the beginning of a wonderful new addition to my musical life, my Boston Baroque debut. December 8 and 9 I will be singing their Messiah at Jordan Hall.

A final announcement: starting this fall I will be teaching voice at Brown University. I'm pleased with this for many reasons, mainly: - I have another outlet for my desire to teach - I get to work with brilliant students who are as devoted to their applied lessons (and sometimes moreso!) as music majors in major conservatories - I am free to continue my performing career.

*ADDENDUM - Due to a major oversight on my part, I forgot to mention that last month Donna Loewy and I just finished recording our second album together. The disc will be called "American Portraits" and feature song cycles by Tom Cipullo, Jake Heggie, Lori Laitman and Stephen Paulus. Release on the new GPR Records label will be at our next big recital, to be announced... For now I can tell you we are all very very pleased with the rough cuts.

As always, thank you for your interest and support.

- Andy

Monday, March 28, 2011

Lee Hoiby, Master of Opera and Song, Dies at 85


Lee Hoiby, Master of Opera and Song, Dies at 85


from Schott Music Corporation

It is with the deepest sadness that we report the death of composer Lee Hoiby, one of the greatest masters of opera and song of our time. Mr. Hoiby died on March 28, 2011 at Montefiore Hospital in New York City, following a short illness.

Lee Hoiby's gift for musical fantasy was a constant throughout a long life of boundless creative output. His rich catalog of works encompasses operas, oratorios, choral works, concerti, chamber works, song cycles, and more than 100 songs, many of them championed by such singers as Leontyne Price, Frederica von Stade, and Marilyn Horne, among many others. Hoiby's commitment to tonality remained steadfast throughout his compositional life, even when such an allegiance was considered unfashionable. His music uniquely combines joyous melodic invention with structural rigor and it was in the seclusion of the Catskill mountain countryside where he made his home that he found the peaceful balance of art and life he so cherished.

Lee Hoiby, born in Madison, Wisconsin on February 17, 1926, was one of America's most prominent composers of works for the lyric stage. He was introduced to opera by his teacher at the Curtis Institute of Music, Gian Carlo Menotti, who involved him closely in the famed Broadway productions of The Consul and The Saint of Bleecker Street. Hoiby's first opera, The Scarf, a chamber opera in one-act, was recognized by Time Magazine and the Italian press as the hit of the first Spoleto (Italy) Festival. His next opera, Natalia Petrovna (New York City Opera), now known in its revised version as A Month in the Country, was universally praised by the press at its premiere, the closing octet called a work "of overwhelming beauty, a supreme moment in opera comparable to the Meistersinger quintet and theRosenkavalier trio." Hoiby's setting of Tennessee Williams' Summer and Smoke (with libretto by Lanford Wilson) was declared "the finest American opera to date" following its world premiere. The 40th anniversary of the debut of this landmark American opera was celebrated with a new production at the Manhattan School of Music in December, 2010, which Mr. Hoiby attended. Hoiby recently completed what would become his last opera, a setting of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, with a libretto adapted from the Shakespeare play by Mark Shulgasser. Romeo and Juliet awaits its world premiere.

A pianistic child prodigy, Hoiby's earliest influences included several powerful musical personalities representing numerous strains of the 20th-century avant-garde. Among them was the renowned Pro Arte Quartet, led by Rudolf Kolisch, Arnold Schoenberg's son-in-law. Ironically, they pierced Hoiby not with their dodecaphonic fervor, but with their echt central-European musical traditions. During the period immediately following WW II, he also performed in Harry Partch's Dadaist ensembles, studied with Darius Milhaud at Mills College and pursued a virtuoso career as a concert pianist under the tutelage of Gunnar Johansen and Egon Petri.

Hoiby spoke recently about his long life of composing: "For me, composing music bears some likeness to archeology. It requires patient digging, searching for the treasure; the ability to distinguish between a treasure and the rock next to it and recognizing when you're digging in the wrong place. The archeologist takes a soft brush and brushes away a half-teaspoon at a time. Musically, that would be a few notes, or a chord. Sometimes the brushing reveals an especially lovely thing, buried there for so long."

Among Mr. Hoiby’s operatic works are the one-act opera buffa Something New for the Zoo (1979), the musical monologue The Italian Lesson (1981, text by Ruth Draper) which was produced off-Broadway in 1989 with Jean Stapleton, and a one-act chamber opera, This Is the Rill Speaking (1992, text by Lanford Wilson, adapted by Shulgasser). Hoiby was a long-time collaborator with Brooklyn's American Opera Projects, having held a chair as Mentor Composer on AOP’s Composer and the Voice program for two seasons. In 2006, AOP commissioned a setting of Thomas Hardy’s poem The Darkling Thrushas part of the multi-media opera production Darkling. AOP also co-produced the first professional and orchestrated performances of This Is the Rill Speaking in April of 2008 at SUNY Purchase and at New York City’s Symphony Space, led by conductor Benton Hess and directed by Ned Canty.

Hoiby's contribution to the art song repertoire (over 100 songs) is recognized by singers worldwide. The great American soprano Leontyne Price introduced many of his best known songs and arias to the public. His musical idiom displayed a grateful acceptance of the rich legacy of melodic homophony, embracing references from Monteverdi to American blues without sounding eclectic or piecemeal. "What I learned from Schubert," Hoiby commented "came from a long, deep and loving exposure to his songs. A lot happens on a subconscious level, so it's hard to verbalize, but what I think his songs taught me have to do primarily with the line, the phrasing, the tessitura, the accentuations of speech, the careful consideration of vowels, the breathing required, and an extremely economical use of accompaniment material, often the same figure going through the whole song." Hoiby’s choral music is widely performed throughout North America and in England including such works as the Christmas cantata A Hymn of the Nativity (text by Richard Crashaw), the oratorio Galileo Galilei (libretto by Barrie Stavis), and a substantial group of works for chorus and orchestra on texts of Walt Whitman.

Hoiby's music can be heard on virtually every major record label. The Manhattan School of Music Opera Theater revived Hoiby's opera A Month in the Country and recorded it for Albany Records in 2005 and their recent recording of Summer and Smoke will be released later this year, also on Albany. In 2009, Naxos released an album of the composer’s art songs entitled A Pocket of Time. Among the many distinguished artists and organizations that have commissioned him are New York City Opera, the Spoleto Festival, Santa Fe Chamber Music Festival, American Opera Projects, The Washington Cathedral, Choral Arts Society of Washington, The Verdehr Trio, the Dorian Wind Quintet, the Ames Piano Quartet, Phyllis Bryn-Julson, the Richard Tucker Foundation, Yale University Institute of Sacred Music, American Guild of Organists, Mercersburg College, and Cantus. Lee Hoiby’s works have been recognized by awards and grants from the Guggenheim Foundation, the National Institute of Arts and Letters, the Ford Foundation, the Fulbright Commission and the National Endowment for the Arts.

Recent works by Lee Hoiby include Jacob's Ladder, for mixed chorus, organ and brass quintet, composed for the re-dedication of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in Manhattan in 2008; Last Letter Home, Hoiby's 2007 musical setting of Pfc. Jesse Givens' note home to his family before perishing in Iraq which very quickly became one of the most performed contemporary choral works with versions for men's chorus, SATB chorus with string orchestra, piano or string quartet, and for solo baritone and piano; And The Waters Flow, for mixed chorus, children's chorus, bass, harp and organ; and The Christmas Tree, a rapturous holiday offering available in versions for SATB chorus a cappella and with orchestra. A consortia of university and professional opera companies is currently in formation for the world premiere run of Hoiby's opera Romeo and Juliet in the 2012/13 season.

Lee Hoiby is survived by his partner and longtime collaborator Mark Shulgasser. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the American Virtuosi Foundation, Inc. for the support of the Lee Hoiby Institute for American Music. Please visit www.leehoibyinstitute.org for further information which will be active after March 29.

A memorial service at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine will be held on a date to be announced later this spring.

Lee Hoiby at Schott Music
www.leehoiby.com

Friday, March 25, 2011

Just in time for Spring and a little early for Easter


The guinea hens are laying eggs.

On Monday I opened their house to clean the floor (only needed 2-3 times a year) and thought "who put a ping pong ball in here..." I showed Corinne. She was so excited; she said it was like finding out you were pregnant - which we are not.

The egg is about 1/2 the size of a large chicken egg with a pointier shape. They are a peachy flesh color - well here's a picture.

We fried it up. It is really hard to crack. The best way we found is to whack it with the back of a butter knife. They are delicious, as fresh as they get.

Happy Spring!

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Texts for American Song Recital, March 17, 2011

Though we were unable to print texts for this week's recital, you may review them here. While the Copland and Kohn texts, being folk and popular songs of their day may be straightforward, much of the rest is either sophisticated poetry, otherwise unusual combinations of words, or in the case of "Charlie Rutlage" spoken word over a ruckus piano part in a Texas dialect.

Hope to see there.

Thursday evening, March 17, 201 7PM at Kulas Chamber Hall Baldwin-Wallace college.

The Boatmen’s Dance

The boatmen dance, the boatmen sing,
The boatmen up to ev'rything,
And when the boatman gets on shore
He spends his cash and works for more.
 
High row the boatmen row,
Floatin' down the river the Ohio.
 
Then dance the boatmen dance, 
O dance the boatmen dance.
O dance all night 'til broad daylight,
And go home with the gals in the mornin'. 
 
High row the boatmen row. . .  etc
 
I went on board the other day
To see what the boatmen had to say.
There I let my passion loose
An' they cram me in the callaboose.
O dance the boatmen dance. . .  
 
High row the boatmen row . . .   etc 
 
The boatman is a thrifty man, 
There's none can do as the boatman can.
I never see a pretty gal in my life
But that she was a boatman's wife.
O dance the boatmen dance. . .  
 
High row the boatmen row. . .  etc

The Little Horses

Hush you bye,
Don't you cry,
Go to sleepy little baby.
When you wake,
You shall have,
All the pretty little horses.
Blacks and bays,
Dapples and grays,
Coach and six-a little horses.
Blacks and bays,
Dapples and grays,
Coach and six-a little horses.
Hush you bye,
Don't you cry,
Go to sleepy little baby.
When you wake,
You'll have sweet cake and
All the pretty little horses.
A brown and gray and a black and a bay and a
Coach and six-a little horses.
A black and a bay ad a brown and a gray and a
Coach and six-a little horses.
Hush you bye,
Don't you cry,
Oh you pretty little baby.
Go to sleepy little baby.
Oh you pretty little baby.

The Dodger

Yes the candidate's a dodger,
Yes a well-known dodger.
Yes the candidate's a dodger,
Yes and I'm a dodger too.
 
He'll meet you and treat you,
And ask you for your vote.
But look out boys, 
He's a-dodgin' for your note. 
 
Yes we're all dodgin'
A-dodgin', dodgin', dodgin'.
Yes we're all dodgin'
Out away through the world.
 
Yes the preacher he's a dodger,
Yes a well-known dodger.
Yes the preacher he's a dodger,
Yes and I'm a dodger too. 
 
He'll preach you a gospel,
And tell you of your crimes. 
But look out boys,
He's a-dodgin' for your dimes. 
 
Yes we're all dodgin' . . . etc.
 
Yes the lover he's a dodger,
Yes a well-known dodger.
Yes the lover he's a dodger,
Yes and I'm a dodger too.
 
He'll hug you and kiss you,
And call you his bride,
But look out girls,
He's a-tellin' you a lie. 
 
Yes we're all dodgin' . . . etc.

Ching-a-ring chaw

Ching-a-ring-a ring ching ching,
Hoa dinga ding kum larkee,
Ching-a-ring-a ring ching ching,
Hoa ding kum larkee.
 
Brothers gather round,
Listen to this story,
'Bout the promised land,
An' the promised glory.
 
You don' need to fear,
If you have no money,
You don' need none there,
To buy you milk and honey.
 
There you'll ride in style,
Coach with four white horses,
There the evenin' meal,
Has one two three four courses.
 
Nights we all will dance
To the harp and fiiddle,
Waltz and jig and prance,
"Cast off down the middle!"
 
When the mornin' come,
All in grand and spendour,
Stand out in the sun,
And hear the holy thunder.
 
Brothers hear me out,
The promised land's a-comin'
Dance and sing and shout,
I hear them harps a strummin'.

Beggar’s Song

Good people keep their holy day,
They rest from labor on a Sunday;
But we keep holy every day,
And rest from Monday until Monday.

And yet the noblest work on earth
Is done when beggars do their part:
They work, dear ladies, on the soft
And tender feelings in your heart.

Sure on this Shining Night James Agee

Sure on this shining night
Of star made shadows round,
Kindness must watch for me
This side the ground.
The late year lies down the north.
All is healed, all is health.
High summer holds the earth.
Hearts all whole.
Sure on this shining night I weep for wonder wand'ring far
alone
Of shadows on the stars.

Nocturne Frederic Prokosch

Close my darling both your eyes
Let your arms lie still at last
Calm the lake of falsehood lies,
And the wind of lust has passed,
Waves across these hopeless sands
Fill my heart and end my day.
Underneath your moving hands
All my aching flows away
Even the human pyramids
Blaze with such a longing now:
Close, my love, your trembling lids,
Let the midnight heal your brow.
Northward flames Orion's horn
Westward the Egyptian light.
None watch us, none to warn
But the blind eternal night.

I Hear an Army James Joyce

I hear an army charging upon the land,

And the thunder of horses plunging, foam about their knees:

Arrogant, in black armour, behind them stand,

Disdaining the reins, with flutt'ring whips, the charioteers.

They cry unto the night their battlename:

I moan in sleep when I hear afar their whirling laughter.

They cleave the gloom of dreams, a blinding flame,

Clanging, clanging upon the heart as upon an anvil.

They come shaking in triumph their long, green hair:

They come out of the sea and run shouting by the shore.

My heart, have you no wisdom thus to despair?

My love, my love, why have you left me alone?

Charlie Rutlage

Another good cowpuncher has gone to meet his fate,
I hope he'll find a resting place, within the golden gate.
Another place is vacant on the ranch of the X I T,
'Twill be hard to find another that's liked as well as he.
The first that died was Kid White, a man both tough and brave,
While Charlie Rutlage makes the third to be sent to his grave,
Caused by a cowhorse falling, while running after stock;
'Twas on the spring round up, a place where death men mock,
He went forward one morning on a circle through the hills,
He was gay and full of glee, and free from earthly ills;
But when it came to finish up the work on which he went,
Nothing came back from him; his time on earth was spent.
'Twas as he rode the round up, a XIT turned back to the herd;
Poor Charlie shoved him in again, his cutting horse he spurred;
Another turned; at that moment his horse the creature spied 
And turned and fell with him, beneath poor Charlie died,
His relations in Texas his face never more will see,
But I hope he'll meet his loved ones beyond in eternity,
I hope he'll meet his parents, will meet them face to face,
And that they'll grasp him by the right hand at the shining throne of grace.

Serenity John Greenleaf Whittier

O, Sabbath rest of Galilee!
O, calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee,
the silence of eternity
Interpreted by love.
Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
till all our strivings cease:
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
and let our ordered lives confess,
the beauty of thy peace.

The Greatest Man Anne Collins

My teacher said us boys should write
about some great man, so I thought last night
'n thought about heroes and men
that had done great things,
'n then I got to thinkin' 'bout my pa;
he ain't a hero 'r anything but pshaw!
Say! He can ride the wildest hoss
'n find minners near the moss
down by the creek; 'n he can swim
'n fish, we ketched five new lights, me 'n him!
Dad's some hunter too - oh, my!
Miss Molly Cottontail sure does fly
when he tromps through the fields 'n brush!
(Dad won't kill a lark 'r thrush.)
Once when I was sick 'n though his hands were rough
he rubbed the pain right out. "That's the stuff!"
he said when I winked back the tears. He never cried
but once 'n that was when my mother died.
There're lots o' great men: George Washinton 'n Lee,
but Dad's got 'em all beat holler, seems to me!

He is There John McCrae

Fifteen years ago today
A little Yankee, little yankee boy
Marched beside his granddaddy
In the decoration day parade.
The village band would play
those old war tunes,
and the G. A. R. would shout,
"Hip Hip Hooray!" in the same old way,
As it sounded on the old camp ground.
 
That boy has sailed o'er the ocean,
He is there, he is there, he is there.
He's fighting for the right,
but when it comes to might,
He is there, he is there, he is there;
As the Allies beat up all the warlords!
He'll be there, he'll be there,
and then the world will shout
the Battle-cry of Freedom
Tenting on a new camp ground.
For it's rally round the Flag boys
Rally once again, 
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
 
Fifteen years ago today
A little Yankee, with a German name
Heard the tale of "forty-eight"
Why his Granddaddy joined Uncle Sam,
His fathers fought that medieval stuff
and he will fight it now;
"Hip Hip Hooray! this is the day,"
When he'll finish up that aged job.
 
That boy has sailed o'er the ocean...
 
There's a time in ev'ry life,
When it's do or die, and our yankee boy
Does his bit that we may live,
In a world where all may have a "say."
He's conscious always of his country's aim
which is Liberty for all,
"Hip Hip Hooray!" is all he'll say,
As he marches to the Flanders front.
 
That boy has sailed o'er the ocean...

American Folk Set

“Ten Thousand Miles Away” premiered November 23, 2002, Carnegie Hall David Daniels, countertenor, Martin Katz, piano ; “The Gallows Tree” : September 21, 2007, Mills Hall at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, Andrew Garland, baritone, Martha Saywell, piano ; Tonight is the premiere of “Hell in Texas” premiered November 21, 2008, Carnegie Hall, Andrew Garland, baritone, Donna Loewy, piano.

"10,000 Miles Away"

Sing I for a brave and a gallant barque;

for a stiff and a ratling breeze,

A bully crew and a captain true,

to carry me o’er the seas.

To carry me o’er the seas, my boys,

to my true love so gay,

who went on a trip on a Government ship

ten thousand miles away!

Oh, blow, ye winds, hi oh!

a roaming I will go.

I’ll stay no more on England’s shore

so let the music play.

I’ll start by the morning train

to cross the raging main,

for I’m on the road to my own true love,

ten thousand miles away.

My true love she was handsome,

my true love she was young

Her eyes were blue as the violet’s hue.

and silv’ry was the sound of her tongue.

And silv’ry was the sound of her tongue, my boys,

and while I sing this lay,

she’s a-doing of the grand in a far off land,

ten thousand miles away.

Oh, blow, ye winds, hi oh!

A roaming I will go.

I’ll stay no more on England’s shore,

so let the music play.

I’ll start by the morning train

to cross the raging main!

For I’m on the road to my

On the Other Shore

I have a mother gone to glory,

I have a mother gone to glory,

I have a mother gone to glory,

On the other shore.

By and by I’ll go to meet her,

By and by I’ll go to meet her,

By and by I’ll go to meet her,

On the other shore.

Won’t that be a happy meetin’

Won’t that be a happy meetin’

Won’t that be a happy meetin’

On the other shore.

There we’ll see our good old neighbors

There we’ll see our good old neighbors

There we’ll see our good old neighbors

On the other shore.

There we’ll see our blessed savior

There we’ll see our blessed savior

There we’ll see our blessed savior

On the other shore.

The Farmer’s Curst Wife

There was an old man at the foot of the hill.

If he ain’t moved away, he’s a’livin’ there still.

Sing hi didle-i diddle-i fi diddle-i diddle-i day.

The devil he some to his house one day,

says “one of your family I’m gonna take away.”

Sing hi didle-i diddle-i fi diddle-i diddle-i day.

“Take her, my wife, with all a’my heart,

and I hope by golly, you never part.”

Sing hi didle-i diddle-i fi diddle-i diddle-i day.

The devil he put her up on his back,

and off to Hell he went, clickity clack.

Sing hi didle-i diddle-i fi diddle-i diddle-i day.

When he got her down to the gates of Hell,

he says "punch up the fire, we'll scorch her well."

Sing hi didle-i diddle-i fi diddle-i diddle-i day.

In come a little devil draggin' a chain,

She upped with a hatched and split his brain!

Sing hi didle-i diddle-i fi diddle-i diddle-i day.

Now Nine little devils went a'climbin the wall

sayin' "take her back, daddy! She'll a'murder us all!"

Sing hi didle-i diddle-i fi diddle-i diddle-i day.

The old man was a peepin' out of a crack.

amd he saw the old Devil come draggin' her back.

Sing hi didle-i diddle-i fi diddle-i diddle-i day.

Now there's one advantage women have over men.

They can all go to Hell! ...and come back again.

Sing hi didle-i diddle-i fi diddle-i diddle-i day.

Poor Wayfaring Stranger

I am a poor wayfaring stranger

A travlin’ through this world of woe

And there’s no sickness, toil or danger

In that bright land to which I go.

I’m goin’ there to meet my mother,

I’m goin’ there no more to roam.

I’m just a goin’ over Jordan

I’m just a goin’ over home.

I am a poor wayfaring stranger

A travlin’ through this world of woe

And there’s no sickness, toil or danger

In that bright land to which I go.

I’m goin’ there to meet my mother,

I’m goin’ there no more to roam.

I’m just a goin’ over Jordan

I’m just a goin’ over home.

Hell in Texas

Oh, the devil in Hell they say he was chained. And there for a thousand years he remained.

He never complained, no, nor did he groan, but decided he’s start up a Hell of his own.

Where he could torment the souls of men, free from the walls of his prison pen.

So he asked the Lord if he had any sand left over from making this great land.

The Lord said “why yes, I have plenty on hand. It’s way down south on the Rio Grande.

But I’ve got to be honest the stuff is so poor, that I wouldn’t use it for Hell anymore.”

So the devil went down to look over his truck. It came as a gift, so he figured he’s stuck.

And when he examined it careful and well, he decided the stuff was too dry for Hell.

Well, the Lord he just wanted the stuff of his hands, so he promised the devil he’d water the land.

He had some old water that wasn’t no use, a rancid old puddle that stunk like the deuce.

The Lord he was crafty, the deal was arranged. He laughed to himself as the deed was exchanged.

But the devil was ready to go with his plan to make up a Hell and so he began.

He scattered tarantulas over the roads, put thorns on the cactus and horns on the toads.

He sprinkled the sand with millions of ants, so if you sit down, you need souls on your pants.

He put water puppies in all of the lakes and under the rocks he put poisonous snakes.

He mixed all the dust up with jiggers and fleas, hung thorns and brambles all over the trees.

The heat in the summer’s a hundred and ten. Not bad for the devil but way too hot for men!

And after he’d fixed things so thorny and well, he said “I’ll be damned if this don’t beat Hell!”

Then he flapped up his wings and away he flew, and vanished from earth in a blaze of blue!

So if you ever end up in Texas, let me know if it’s true!

America 1968 poems by Robert Hayden

Premiered November 21, 2008, Carnegie Hall, Andrew Garland, baritone, Donna Loewy, piano.

Monet’s Water Lilies

Today as the news from Selma and Saigon
poisons the air like fallout,
I come again to see
the serene, great picture that I love.

Here space and time exist in light
the eye like the eye of faith believes.
The seen, the known
dissolve in iridescence, become
illusive flesh of light
that was not, was, forever is.

O light beheld as through refracting tears.
Here is the aura of that world
each of us has lost.
Here is the shadow of its joy

Hey Nonny No

Lord Riot

naked

in flaming clothes

cannibal ruler

of anger’s

carousals

sing hey nonny no

terror

his tribute

shriek of bloody class

his praise

sing wrathful sing vengeful

sing hey nonny no

gigantic

and laughing sniper on tower

I hate

I destroy

I am I am

sing hey nonny no

sing burn baby burn

The Point

(Stonington, Connecticut)

Land’s end. And sound and river come

together, flowing to the sea.

Wild swans, the first I’ve ever seen,

cross the Point in translucent flight.

On lowtide rocks terns gather;

sunbathers gather on the lambent shore.

All for a moment seems inscribed

on brightness, as on sunlit

bronze and stone, here at land’s end,

praise for dead patriots of Stonington;

we are for an instant held in shining

like memories in the mind of God.

The Whipping

The old woman across the way
is whipping the boy again
and shouting to the neighborhood
her goodness and his wrongs.

Wildly he crashes through elephant ears,
pleads in dusty zinnias,
while she in spite of crippling fat
pursues and corners him.

She strikes and strikes the shrilly circling
boy till the stick breaks
in her hand. His tears are rainy weather
to woundlike memories:

My head gripped in bony vise
of knees, the writhing struggle
to wrench free, the blows, the fear
worse than blows that hateful

Words could bring, the face that I
no longer knew or loved . . .
Well, it is over now, it is over,
and the boy sobs in his room,

And the woman leans muttering against
a tree, exhausted, purged--
avenged in part for lifelong hidings
she has had to bear.

Those Winter Sundays

Sundays too my father got up early
And put his clothes on in the blueback cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?

Frederick Douglass

When it is finally ours, this freedom, this liberty, this beautiful
and terrible thing, needful to man as air,
usable as earth; when it belongs at last to all,
when it is truly instinct, brain matter, diastole, systole,
reflex action; when it is finally won; when it is more
than the gaudy mumbo jumbo of politicians:
this man, this Douglass, this former slave, this Negro
beaten to his knees, exiled, visioning a world
where none is lonely, none hunted, alien,
this man, superb in love and logic, this man
shall be remembered. Oh, not with statues' rhetoric,
not with legends and poems and wreaths of bronze alone,
but with the lives grown out of his life, the lives
fleshing his dream of the beautiful, needful thing.

"Monet's Waterlilies," IV from Words in the Mourning Time," "The Point," "The Whipping," "Those Winter Sundays," and "Frederick Douglass" from COLLECTED POEMS OF ROBERT HAYDEN by Robert Hayden, edited by Frederick Glaysher. Copyright 1962, 1966, 70. Copyright c 1985 by Emma Hayden. Used by permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation.


AMERICAN FOLK SET

Folk songs are passed down through the generations by people singing them to one another. Along the way, each party uses artistic license to embellish a song at their whim, thereby making it their own. Words and melody are continuously altered; on shipboard, around campfires, on front porches, in saloons and whorehoueses, on cattle drives, in cotton fields and just about everywhere else that there is a shared human experience. By the time the scribes track down and notate these songs for posterity, they are privy to only the latest incarnations, sometimes having to piece together chunks from different sources to contruct one coherent song.

Like the folks who came before me, I indulged my own sensibilities regarding the material, knowing that certain liberties would have to be taken to transform unaccompanied melodies into arrangements suitable for performance. A word might be modified or inserted to create a smoother line. Meter changes were occasionally used to extend words or phrases. A melody note might be altered to allow a phrase to land more sensibly. With all that said, respect was paid to the shape and content of the source material. My goal was to expand the storytelling power of these songs by creating accompinaments which had a more extended, even epic sweep, and thereby put them into a context where they could be performed by recitalists. These songs were selected because they offered either an emotional, dramatic or musical potential worth exploring.

-Steven Mark Kohn

AMERICA 1968

For some time, I have wanted to create a piece about 1968. To think back on that year today is to be flooded with powerful images: two assassinations, the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, the Tet Offensive in Vietnam, Apollo 8 orbiting the moon, the black power salute of John Carlos and Tommie Smith on the medal-stand of the Mexico City Olympics. The particular vision of our nation expressed in America 1968 may seem, to some, a bit unusual. It is, at times, disturbing; at times even violent. Still, it is a true, if difficult, view of our country during a volatile time. Ultimately, the vision is positive and encouraging, but the journey to that positive conclusion is harrowing – or at least I hope it is.

I found in Robert Hayden’s eloquent poetry a bridge to my memories of the time – and to my own ambivalence about the era. In Hayden’s poems, the redemptive powers of art and nature can assuage the reader even when “the news from Selma and Saigon poison the air like fallout.” But the rhythms and cadences of urban violence can be heard in Lord Riot, and the casual, misdirected cruelty of those who have themselves been victims finds its expression in The Whipping. Those Winter Sundays is perhaps Hayden’s most famous poem. In it, one feels, belatedly, an appreciation for the sacrifices of another, as one does, perhaps even more viscerally, in Frederick Douglass. To me, Hayden is at his most moving in The Point, celebrating a transcendent meeting of light and water, a moment when people are “held in shining, like memories in the mind of God.”

While tonight’s performance marks the world premiere of the complete piece, two of the songs in America 1968 were composed earlier. A version of Monet’s Waterlilies for chamber ensemble and baritone was written in 2004 for the new-music group Sequitur, and The Point was originally part of my song-cycle Climbing: 7 Songs on 8 Poems by African-Americans.

I would like to express my deep appreciation to the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, Yaddo, and Copland House – the sites where America 1968 was composed.

Tom Cipullo