Recital: Jádon Brooks '22, Baritone
NEC's students meet one-on-one each week with a faculty artist to perfect their craft. As each one leaves NEC to make their mark in the performance world, they present a full, professional recital that is free and open to the public. It's your first look at the artists of tomorrow.
Jádon Brooks '22 studies Voice with Lorraine Nubar and is the recipient of the Ruth S. Morse Voice Scholarship.
This performance is open to in-person audiences, and can also be viewed via livestream.
- Jádon Brooks '22, baritone
- Miles Fellenberg, piano
- Stuart Ryerse, piano
Alessandro Stradella | Pietà, Signore
Text
Pietà, Signore
Pietà, Signore,
di me dolente!
Signor, pietà,
se a te giunge
il mio pregar;
non mi punisca
il tuo rigor,
meno severi,
clementi ognora,
volgi i tuoi sguardi
sopra di me,
sopra di me.
Non fia mai
che nell'inferno
sia dannato
nel fuoco eterno
dal tuo rigor.
Gran Dio, giammai
sia dannato
nel fuoco eterno
dal tuo rigor,
dal tuo rigor.
Pietà, Signore,
Signor, pietà
di me dolente,
se a te giunge
il mio pregare,
il mio pregare.
Meno severi,
clementi ognora,
volgi i tuoi sguardi,
deh! volgi squardi
su me, Signor,
su me, Signor.
Pietà, Signore…
AnonymousHave mercy, Lord
Have mercy, Lord,
on me in my remorse!
Lord, have mercy
if my prayer
rises to you;
do not chastise
me in your severity,
less harshly,
always mercifully,
look down
on me.
Never let me
be condemned
to hell
in the eternal fire
by your severity.
Almighty God, never let me
be condemned to hell
in the eternal fire
by your severity.
Have mercy, Lord,
Lord, have mercy
on me in my remorse,
if my prayer
rises to you.
Less harshly,
always mercifully,
look down.
ah! look down
on me, Lord.
Have mercy, Lord…
Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © by Antonio Giuliano, reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive, https://www.lieder.net/Artists- Miles Fellenberg, piano
Antonio Caldara | Sebben, crudele
Text
Sebben, crudele
Sebben, crudele,
mi fai languir,
sempre Fedele
ti voglio amar.
Con la lunghezza
del mio servir
la tua fierezza
saprò stancar.
AnonymousCruel one
Cruel one, even if
you make me languish,
I will always
love you true.
With the patience
of my serving
your pride,
I will be able to tire out.
WikipediaArtists- Miles Fellenberg, piano
George Frideric Handel | Sì tra i ceppi from "Berenice", HWV 38
Text
Sì, tra i ceppi
Sì, tra i ceppi e le ritorte
La mia fe risplenderà.
Nò, ne pur la stessa morte
Il mio foco estinguerà.
AnonymousYes, even in chains
Yes, even in chains and bonds
My faith will be resplendent.
No, not even Death itself
will put out my fire.
Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust, from the LiederNet Archive -- https://www.lieder.net/Artists- Miles Fellenberg, piano
Ernest Chausson
Nanny
Les papillons
Text
Nanny
Bois chers aux ramiers, pleurez, doux feuillages,
Et toi, source vive, et vous frais sentiers;
Pleurez, ô bruyères sauvages,
Buisson de houx et d’églantiers.
Printemps, roi fleuri de la verte année,
Ô jeune Dieu, pleure! Eté mùrissant,
Coupe ta tresse couronnée
Et pleure, Automne rougissant.
L’angoisse d’aimer brise un coeur fidèle.
Terre et ciel, pleurez! oh! que je l’aimais!
Cher pays, ne parle plus d’elle;
Nanny ne reviendra jamais!
Leconte de Lisle
Les papillons
Les papillons couleur de neige
Volent par essaims sur la mer;
Beaux papillons blancs, quand pourrai-je
Prendre le bleu chemin de l’air?
Savez-vous, ô belle des belles,
Ma bayadère aux yeux de jais,
S’ils me voulaient prêter leurs ailes,
Dites, save-vous, ou j’rais?
Sans prendre un seul baiser aux roses,
À travers vallons et forêts.
J’irais à vos lèvres mi-closes
Fleur de mon âme, et j’y mourrais.
Théophile GautierNanny
Woods, dear to the doves, weep, soft leaves,
and you, lively spring, and you, cool paths;
weep, o wild heathers,
holly and sweet-briar bushes.
Spring, king covered in the flowers of the green year,
o young god, weep! Ripening summer,
Cut your crowned tress;
and weep, reddening Autumn.
The anguish of loving breaks a faithful heart.
Earth and sky, weep: oh, how I loved her!
Dear country , do not speak of her again:
Nanny will never return.
Translation © by Christopher Goldsack;
reprinted with permission from Mélodie Treasury
The butterflies
The butterflies, the colour of snow,
are flying in swarms over the sea;
beautiful white butterflies, when can I
take the blue path of the air?
Do you know, o fairest of the fair,
my bayadére with the jet black eyes,
if they would lend me their wings,
say, do you know where I would go?
Without taking a single kiss from the roses,
through valleys and forests,
I would go to your half-closed lips,
flower of my soul, and I would die there.
Translation © by Christopher Goldsack;
reprinted with permission from Mélodie TreasuryArtists- Miles Fellenberg, piano
Reynaldo Hahn
L'heure exquise from 7 Chansons Grises
Quand je fus prise au pavillon
Text
L’heure exquise
La lune blanche
Luit dans les bois;
De chaque branche
Part une voix
Sous la ramée...
Ô bien aimée.
L'étang reflète,
Profond miroir,
La silhouette
Du saule noir
Où le vent pleure...
Rêvons, c'est l'heure.
Un vaste et tendre
Apaisement
Semble descendre
Du firmament
Que l'astre irise...
C'est l'heure exquise.
Paul Verlaine
Quand je fus pris au pavillon
Quand je fus pris au pavillon
De ma dame, trèsgente et belle,
Je me brulai à la chandelle,
Ainsi que fait le papillon.
Je rougis comme vermillon,
Àla clarté d'une étincelle,
Quand je fus pris au pavillon.
Si j'eusse été émerillon
Ou que j'eusse eu aussi bonne aile,
Je me fusse gardé de celle
Qui me bailla de l'aiguillon
Quand je fus pris au pavillon!
Charles d'OrléansExquisite hour
The white moon
Gleams in the woods;
From every branch
There comes a voice
Beneath the boughs...
O my beloved.
The pool reflects,
Deep mirror,
The silhouette
Of the black willow
Where the wind is weeping...
Let us dream, it is the hour.
A vast and tender
Consolation
Seems to fall
From the sky
The moon illumines...
Exquisite hour.
Translation © Richard Stokes, author of A French Song Companion
(Oxford University Press, 2000);
provided via Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk
When I was caught at the pavilion
When I was caught at the pavilion
of my very gentle and beautiful lady,
I burnt myself at the candle
as a butterfly does.
I blushed like vermilion,
at the brightness of a spark,
when I was caught at the pavilion.
Had I been a merlin
or had I had as good a wing,
I would have guarded myself against her
who struck me with the sting
when I was caught at the pavilion!
Translation © by Christopher Goldsack;
reprinted with permission from Mélodie TreasuryArtists- Miles Fellenberg, piano
Johannes Brahms
Sonntag No. 3 from Aus Uhlands Volksliedern
Text
Sonntag
So hab’ ich doch die ganze Woche
Mein feines Liebchen nicht geseh’n,
Ich sah es an einem Sonntag
Wohl vor der Türe steh’n:
Das tausendschöne Jungfräulein,
Das tausendschöne Herzelein,
Wollte Gott, wollte Gott, ich wär’ heute bei ihr!
So will mir doch die ganze Woche
Das Lachen nicht vergeh’n,
Ich sah es an einem Sonntag
Wohl in die Kirche geh’n:
Das tausendschöne Jungfräulein,
Das tausendschöne Herzelein,
Wollte Gott, wollte Gott, ich wär’ heute bei ihr!
Johann Ludwig UhlandSunday
For a whole week now
I haven’t seen my love;
I saw her on a Sunday,
standing at her door:
my loveliest girl,
my loveliest sweet,
would to God I were with her today!
Yet I’ll still be able
to laugh all week;
I saw her on a Sunday,
as she went to church:
my loveliest girl,
my loveliest sweet,
would to God I were with her today!
Translation © Richard Stokes, author of
The Book of Lieder(Faber); provided via Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)Artists- Miles Fellenberg, piano
Franz Schubert
Die Krähe from Winterreise, D. 911
Der Doppelgänger from Schwanengesang, D. 957
Text
Die Krähe
Eine Krähe war mit mir
Aus der Stadt gezogen,
Ist bis heute für und für
Um mein Haupt geflogen.
Krähe, wunderliches Tier,
Willst mich nicht verlassen?
Meinst wohl bald als Beute hier
Meinen Leib zu fassen?
Nun, es wird nicht weit mehr gehen
An dem Wanderstabe.
Krähe, lass mich endlich sehn
Treue bis zum Grabe!
Wilhelm Müller
Der Doppelgänger
Still ist die Nacht, es ruhen die Gassen,
In diesem Hause wohnte mein Schatz;
Sie hat schon längst die Stadt verlassen,
Doch steht noch das Haus auf demselben Platz.
Da steht auch ein Mensch und starrt in die Höhe,
Und ringt die Hände, vor Schmerzens Gewalt;
Mir graust es, wenn ich sein Antlitz sehe –
Der Mond zeigt mir meine eigne Gestalt.
Du Doppelgänger! du bleicher Geselle!
Was äffst du nach mein Liebesleid,
Das mich gequält auf dieser Stelle,
So manche Nacht, in alter Zeit?
Heinrich HeineThe Crow
A crow has come with me
from the town,
and to this day
has been flying ceaselessly about my head.
Crow, you strange creature,
will you not leave me?
Do you intend soon
to seize my body as prey?
Well, I do not have much further to walk
with my staff.
Crow, let me at last see
faithfulness unto the grave.
Translation © Richard Wigmore, author of
Schubert: The Complete Song Texts (Schirmer Books);
provided via Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)
The Doppelgänger
The night is still, the streets are at rest;
in this house lived my sweetheart.
She has long since left the town,
but the house still stands on the selfsame spot.
A man stands there too, staring up,
and wringing his hands in anguish;
I shudder when I see his face –
the moon shows me my own form!
You wraith, pallid companion,
why do you ape the pain of my love
which tormented me on this very spot,
so many a night, in days long past?
Translation © Richard Wigmore, author of
Schubert: The Complete Song Texts (Schirmer Books);
provided via Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)Artists- Miles Fellenberg, piano
Gerald Finzi | Who is Silvia? from "Let Us Garlands Bring", op. 18
Text
Who is Silvia?
Who is Silvia? what is she?
That all our Swaines commend her?
Holy, faire, and wise is she.
The heavens such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.
Is she kinde as she is faire?
For beauty lives with kindnesse:
Love doth to her eyes repaire,
To helpe him of his blindnesse:
And being help'd, inhabits there.
Then to Silvia, let us sing,
That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortall thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling.
To her let us Garlands bring.
William ShakespeareArtists- Miles Fellenberg, piano
Ralph Vaughan Williams
Linden Lea
The Sky Above the Roof
Text
Linden Lea
Within the woodlands, flow’ry gladed,
By the oak trees’ mossy moot,
The shining grass blades, timber shaded,
Now do quiver underfoot;
And birds do whistle overhead,
And water’s bubbling in its bed;
And there for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
When leaves, that lately were a-springing,
Now do fade within the copse,
And painted birds do hush their singing,
Up upon the timber tops;
And brown leaved fruit’s a-turning red,
In cloudless sunshine overhead,
With fruit for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
Let other folk make money faster
In the air of dark-room’d towns;
I don’t dread a peevish master,
Though no man may heed my frowns.
I be free to go abroad,
Or take again my homeward road
To where, for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
William Barnes
The Sky Above the Roof
The sky above the roof
Is calm and sweet
A tree above the roof
Bends in the heat
A bell from out the blue
Drowsily rings
A bird from out the blue
Plaintively sings
Ah God! A life is here
Simple and fair
Murmurs of strife are here
Lost in the air
Why dost thou weep
Oh, heart
Poured out in tears?
What hast thou done
Oh, heart
With thy spent years?
Mable Dearmer
from the French of Paul VerlaineArtists- Miles Fellenberg, piano
Margaret Bonds | Three Dream Portraits (1959)
Minstrel Man
Dream Variation
I, too
Text
Minstrel Man
Because my mouth
Is wide with laughter
And my throat
Is deep with song,
You do not think
I suffer after
I have held my pain
So long.
Because my mouth
Is wide with laughter,
You do not hear
My inner cry,
Because my feet
Are gay with dancing,
You do not know
I die.
Dream Variation
To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
Dark like me—
That is my dream!To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! Whirl! Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening . . .
A tall, slim tree . . .
Night coming tenderly
Black like me.
I, too
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.
Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,”
Then.
Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed—
I, too, am America.
Langston HughesArtists- Miles Fellenberg, piano
Robert MacGimsey | Sweet Little Jesus Boy
Text
Sweet little Jesus Boy
Sweet little Jesus boy,
They made you be born in a manger.
Sweet little Holy child,
didn’t know who You was.
Didn’t know You’d come to save us,
Lord, to take our sins away.
Our eyes was blind,
we couldn’t see.
We didn’t know who You was.
Long time ago You was born,
In a manger low,
Sweet little Jesus Boy.
The world treat You mean,
Lord, treat me mean too.
But please, Sir,
Forgive us Lord.
We didn’t know ‘twas You.
Robert MacGimseyArtists- Stuart Ryerse, piano