Recital: Juliette Lee Kaoudji '22 MM, Mezzo-Soprano

NEC: Brown Hall | Directions

290 Huntington Ave.
Boston, MA
United States

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.

Juliette Lee Kaoudji '22 MM studies Voice with Carole Haber and is the recipient of the Sylvia C. Segal Voice Scholarship.

This performance is open to in-person audiences, and can also be viewed below via livestream.

Watch livestream from Brown Hall

Artists

  1. Johann Sebastian Bach | "Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris" from Mass in B Minor, BWV 232

     

    Text

    Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris

    Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris, miserere nobis.

    You who sit at the right hand of the Father, have mercy upon us
     
    Artists
    • Amanda Hardy, oboe d'amore

  2. Johannes Brahms

    Es träumte mir
    Die Schnur, die Perl und Perle
    O kühler Wald
    Botschaft

     

    Text

    Es träumte mir

    Es träumte mir,
    Ich sei dir teuer;
    Doch zu erwachen
    Bedurft ich kaum.
    Denn schon im Traume
    Bereits empfand ich,
    Es sei ein Traum.

    Georg Friedrich Daumer

    Die Schnur, die Perl an Perle

    Die Schnur, die Perl an Perle
    Um deinen Hals gereihte,
    Wie wiegt sie sich so fröhlich
    Auf deiner schönen Brust!
    Mit Seel’ und Sinn begabet,
    Mit Seligkeit berauschet
    Sie, diese Götterlust.
    Was müssen wir erst fühlen,
    In welchen Herzen schlagen,
    So heisse Menschenherzen,
    Wofern es uns gestattet,
    Uns traulich anzuschmiegen
    An eine solche Brust!

    Georg Friedrich Daumer

    O kühler Wald

    O kühler Wald,
    Wo rauschest du,
    In dem mein Liebchen geht?
    O Widerhall,
    Wo lauschest du,
    Der gern mein Lied versteht?
    Im Herzen tief,
    Da rauscht der Wald,
    In dem mein Liebchen geht,
    In Schmerzen schlief
    Der Widerhall,
    Die Lieder sind verweht.

    Clemens Brentano

    Botschaft

    Wehe, Lüftchen, lind und lieblich
    Um die Wange der Geliebten,
    Spiele zart in ihrer Locke,
    Eile nicht, hinwegzufliehn!
    Tut sie dann vielleicht die Frage,
    Wie es um mich Armen stehe,
    Sprich: „Unendlich war sein Wehe,
    Höchst bedenklich seine Lage;
    Aber jetzo kann er hoffen
    Wieder herrlich aufzuleben,
    Denn du, Holde, denkst an ihn.“

    Georg Friedrich Daumer    		I dreamed

    I dreamed
    I was dear to you;
    But I scarcely needed
    To awaken.
    For even in my dreams
    I felt
    It was a dream.



    The necklace with its rows of pearls

    The necklace with its rows of pearls
    Looped about your throat,
    How happily it lies cradled
    On your beautiful breast!
    This divine delight endow it
    With soul and feeling
    And intoxicating bliss.
    What must we not feel,
    In whom hearts beat,
    Such ardent human hearts,
    If we are permitted
    To nestle closely
     On such a breast!



    O cool forest

    O cool forest,
    In which my beloved walks,
    Where are you murmuring?
    O echo,
    Where are you listening,
    Who love to understand my song?
    Deep in the heart
    Is where the forest murmurs,
    In which my beloved walks,
    The echo
    Fell asleep in sorrow,
    The songs have blown away



    A Message

    Blow breeze, gently and sweetly
    About the cheek of my beloved,
    Play softly with her tresses,
    Make no haste to fly away!
    Then if she should chance to ask
    How things are with wretched me,
    Say: ‘His sorrow’s been unending,
    His condition most grave;
    But now he can hope
    To revel in life once more,
    For you, fair one, think of him.’

    Translations © Richard Stokes, author of The Book of Lieder,     published by Faber, provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)
     

  3. Frank Bridge | Three Songs

    Far, far from each other
    Music, when soft voices die
    Where is it that our soul doth go?

     

    Text

    Far, far from each other

    Far, far from each other
    Our spirits have grown.
    And what heart knows another?
    Ah! who knows his own?

    Blow, ye winds! lift me with you
    I come to the wild.
    Fold closely, O Nature!
    Thine arms round thy child.

    Ah, calm me! restore me
    And dry up my tears
    On thy high mountain platforms,
    Where Morn first appears.

    Mathew Arnold


    Music, when soft voices die

    Music, when soft voices die,
    Vibrates in the memory;
    Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
    Live within the sense they quicken.

    Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
    Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;
    And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
    Love itself shall slumber on.

    Percy Bysshe Shelley


    Where is it that our soul doth go?

    One thing I'd know: when we have perished,
    Where is it that our soul doth go?
    Where is the fire that is extinguished?
    Where is the wind but now did blow?

    Heinrich Heine, trans. by K. F. Kroecker

     
    Artists
    • Katherine Purcell, viola

  4. Francis Poulenc | Banalités, FP 107

    Chanson d’Orkenise
    Hôtel
    Fagnes de Wallonie
    Voyage à Paris
    Sanglots

     

    Text

    Chanson d’Orkenise

    Par les portes d’Orkenise
    Veut entrer un charretier.
    Par les portes d’Orkenise
    Veut sortir un va-nu-pieds.

    Et les gardes de la ville
    Courant sus au va-nu-pieds:
    ‘Qu’ emportes-tu de la ville?’
    ‘J’y laisse mon cœur entier.’

    Et les gardes de la ville
    Courant sus au charretier:
    ‘Qu’apportes-tu dans la ville?’
    ‘Mon coeur pour me marier!’

    Que de coeurs, dans Orkenise!
    Les gardes riaient, riaient.
    Va-nu-pieds la route est grise,
    L’amour grise, ô charretier.
     

    Les beaux gardes de la ville
    Tricotaient superbement;
    Puis les portes de la ville
    Se fermèrent lentement.

    Hôtel

    Ma chambre a la forme d’une cage
    Le soleil passe son bras par la fenêtre
    Mais moi qui veux fumer pour faire des mirages
    J’allume au feu du jour ma cigarette
    Je ne veux pas travailler je veux fumer

    Fagnes de Wallonie

    Tant de tristesses plénières
    Prirent mon coeur aux fagnes désolées
    Quand las j’ai reposé dans les sapinières
    Le poids des kilomètres pendant que râlait
    le vent d’ouest
    J’avais quitté le joli bois
    Les écureuils y sont restés
    Ma pipe essayait de faire des nuages
    Au ciel
    Qui restait pur obstinément

    Je n’ai confié aucun secret sinon une chanson énigmatique
    Aux tourbières humides

    Les bruyères fleurant le miel
    Attiraient les abeilles
    Et mes pieds endoloris
    Foulaient les myrtilles et les airelles
    Tendrement mariée
    Nord
    Nord
    La vie s’y tord
    En arbres forts
    Et tors
    La vie y mord
    La mort
    À belles dents
    Quand bruit le vent

    Voyage à Paris

    Ah! la charmante chose
    Quitter un pays morose
    Pour Paris
    Paris joli
    Qu’un jour
    Dut créer l’Amour

    Sanglots

                Notre amour est réglé par les calmes étoiles
    Or nous savons qu’en nous beaucoup d’hommes respirent
                 Qui vinrent de très loin et sont un sous nos fronts

    C’est la chanson des rêveurs
    Qui s’étaient arraché le coeur
    Et le portaient dans la main droite
                Souviens-t’en cher orgueil de tous ces souvenirs
                Des marins qui chantaient comme des conquérants
                Des gouffres de Thulé des tendres cieux d’Ophir
                Des malades maudits de ceux qui fuient leur ombre
                Et du retour joyeux des heureux émigrants
    De ce coeur il coulait du sang
    Et le rêveur allait pensant
    A sa blessure délicate
                Tu ne briseras pas la chaîne de ces causes
     Et douloureuse et nous disait
                 Qui sont les effets d’autres causes
    Mon pauvre coeur mon coeur brisé
    Pareil au coeur de tous les hommes
                  Voici voici nos mains que la vie fit esclaves
    Est mort d’amour ou c’est tout comme
    Est mort d’amour et le voici
    Ainsi vont toutes choses,
    Arrachez donc le vôtre aussi
                   Et rien ne sera libre jusqu’à la fin des temps
    Laissons tout aux morts
    Et cachons nos sanglots

    Guillaume Apollinaire

    Song of Orkenise

    Through the gates of Orkenise
    A waggoner wants to enter.
    Through the gates of Orkenise
    A vagabond wants to leave.

    And the sentries guarding the town
    Rush up to the vagabond:
    'What are you taking from the town?'
    'I'm leaving my whole heart behind.'

    And the sentries guarding the town
    Rush up to the waggoner:
    'What are you carrying into the town?'
    'My heart in order to marry.'

    So many hearts in Orkenise!
    The sentries laughed and laughed:
    Vagabond, the road's not merry,
    Love makes you merry, O waggoner!

    The handsome sentries guarding the town
    Knitted vaingloriously;
    The gates of the town then
    Slowly closed.

    Hotel

    My room is shaped like a cage
    The sun puts its arm through the window
    But I who would like to smoke to make mirages
    I light my cigarette on daylight's fire
    I do not want to work I want to smoke

    Walloon moss-hags

    So much utter sadness
    Seized my heart in the desolate upland moss-hags
    When weary I set down in the fir plantation
    The weight of kilometres to the roar
    Of the west wind
    I had left the pretty wood
    The squirrels stayed there
    My pipe tried to make clouds
    In the sky
    Which stubbornly stayed clear

    I confided no secret but an enigmatic song
    To the dank peat-bogs

    The honey-fragrant heather
    Attracted the bees
    And my sore feet
    Crushed bilberries and whortleberries
    Tenderly united
    North
    North
    Life is gnarled there
    In strong trees
    And twisted
    Life there bites
    Death
    Voraciously
    When the wind howls

    Trip to Paris

    Oh! how delightful
    To leave a dismal
    Place for Paris
    Charming Paris
    That one day
    Love must have made

    Sobs

                 Our love is governed by the calm stars
    Now we know that in us many men have their being
                 Who came from afar and are one beneath our    
                  brows
    It is the song of the dreamers
    Who tore out their hearts
    And carried it in their right hand                  
                 (Remember dear pride all these memories
                 The sailors who sang like conquerors
                 The chasms of Thule the gentle Ophir skies
                 The accursed sick those who flee their shadows
                  And the joyous return of happy emigrants)
    This heart ran with blood
    And the dreamer kept thinking
    Of his delicate wound
                  (You shall not break the chain of these causes)
    Of his painful wound and said to us
                  (Which are the effects of other causes)
    My poor heart my broken heart
    Like the hearts of all men
                   (Here here are our hands that life enslaved)
    Has died of love or so it seems
    Has died of love and here it is
    Such is the fate of all things
    So tear out yours too
                    (And nothing will be free till the end of time)
    Let us leave all to the dead
    And conceal our sobs

    Translations © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion, (Oxford University Press)    , provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)

     

  5.  

    This program is dedicated in loving memory of Dante W. Crisafi (2001- 2021).


    I want to deeply thank my mentors Kate and Tom Kush for believing in my goals and aspirations in life since I was 15.

    I want to express my lifelong gratitude to my voice teacher Ms. Carole Haber for teaching me how to sing.

    I want to thank my recital coach Tanya Blaich for helping me find authenticity in artistic expression,

    and my collaborators Amanda Hardy and Katherine Purcell for their care and musical excellence.

    Lastly, I would like to express my love and adoration for my mother Lorraine
    for always doing her very best to make me happy.

     

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