Recital: Logan Trotter '21 MM, Soprano
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.
Logan Trotter '21 MM studies Voice with Karen Holvik and is the recipient of a scholarship made possible by the Vernon Scholarship Fund.
- Logan Trotter '21 MM, soprano
- Tanya Blaich, piano
W. A. Mozart | "Alla selve" from Il re pastore
Text
Alla selva, al prato, al fonte
Alla selva, al prato, al fonte,
Io n’andrò col gregge amato;
E alla selva, al fonte al prato,
l’idol mio con me verrà.
In quel rozzo angusto tetto,
che ricetto a noi darà.
Con la gioia e col diletto
l’innoceza albergherà.
Pietro Metastasio (1698-1782)To the wood, to the meadow, to the spring
To the wood, to the meadow, to the spring,
I shall go with my beloved flock;
And to the wood, to the spring, to the meadow,
My beloved shall come with me.
In that rough, cramped roof
which shall give us shelter.
With joy and delight
innocence shall dwell.
Translation by Nico CastelRobert Schumann | Frauenliebe und Leben
Seit ich gesehen
Er, der Herrlichste von allen
Ich kann's nicht fassen, nicht glauben
Du Ring an meinem Finger
Helft mir, ihr Schwestern
Süßer Freund
An meinem Herzen, an meiner Brust
Nun hast du mir den ersten Schmerz getanTexts
Seit ich ihn gesehen
Seit ich ihn gesehen,
glaub ich blind zu sein;
Wo ich hin nur blicke,
seh ich ihn allein;
Wie im wachen Traume
schwebt sein Bild mir vor,
Taucht aus tiefstem Dunkel,
heller nur empor.
Sonst ist licht- und farblos
alles um mich her,
nach der Schwestern Spiele
nicht begehr ich mehr,
möchte lieber weinen,
still im Kämmerlein;
seit ich ihn gesehen,
glaub ich blind zu sein.Since first seeing him
Since first seeing him,
I think I am blind,
Wherever I look,
Him only I see;
As in a waking dream
his image hovers before me,
Rising out of deepest darkness
ever more brightly.
All else is dark and pale
around me,
My sisters’ games
I no more long to share,
I would rather weep
quietly in my room;
Since first seeing him,
I think I am blind.Er, der Herrlichste von allen
Er, der Herrlichste von allen,
wie so milde, wie so gut!
Holde Lippen, klares Auge,
heller Sinn und fester Mut.
So wie dort in blauer Tiefe,
hell und herrlich, jener Stern,
Also Er an meinem Himmel,
hell und herrlich, hehr und fern.
Wandle, wandle deine Bahnen;
nur betrachten deinen Schein,
nur in Demut ihn betrachten,
selig nur und traurig sein!
Höre nicht mein stilles Beten,
deinem Glücke nur geweiht;
darfst mich niedre Magd nicht kennen,
hoher Stern der Herrlichkeit!
Nur die Würdigste von allen
darf beglücken deine Wahl,
und ich will die Hohe segnen,
viele tausend Mal.
Will mich freuen dann und weinen,
selig, selig bin ich dann;
sollte mir das Herz auch brechen,
brich, o Herz, was liegt daran?He, the most wonderful of all!
He, the most wonderful of all,
how gentle and loving he is!
Sweet lips, bright eyes,
A clear mind and firm resolve.
Just as there in the deep-blue distance
that star gleams bright and brilliant,
So does he shine in my sky,
bright and brilliant, distant and sublime.
Wander, wander on your way,
just to gaze on your radiance,
Just to gaze on in humility,
to be but blissful and sad!
Do not heed my silent prayer,
uttered for your happiness alone,
You shall never know me, lowly as I am,
you noble star of splendour!
Only the worthiest woman of all
may your choice elate,
And I shall bless that exalted one
many thousands of times.
Then shall I rejoice and weep,
blissful, blissful shall I be,
Even if my heart should break,
break, O heart, what does it matter?Ich kann’s nicht fassen, nicht glauben
Ich kann’s nicht fassen, nicht glauben,
es hat ein Traum mich berückt;
wie hätt er doch unter allen
mich Arme erhöht und beglückt?
Mir war’s, er habe gesprochen:
„Ich bin auf ewig dein“—
Mir war’s—ich träume noch immer,
es kann ja nimmer so sein.
O lass im Traume mich sterben,
gewieget an seiner Brust,
den seligen Tod mich schlürfen
in Tränen unendlicher Lust.I cannot grasp it, nor believe it
I cannot grasp it, believe it,
a dream has beguiled me;
How, from all women, could he
have exalted and favoured poor me?
He said, I thought,
‘I am yours forever’,
I was, I thought, still dreaming,
After all, it can never be.
O let me, dreaming, die,
Cradled on his breast;
Let me savour blissful death
in tears of endless joy.Du Ring an meinem Finger
Du Ring an meinem Finger,
mein goldenes Ringelein,
Ich drücke dich fromm an die Lippen,
dich fromm an das Herze mein.
Ich hatt ihn ausgeträumet,
der Kindheit friedlich schönen Traum,
Ich fand allein mich, verloren
im öden, unendlichen Raum.
Du Ring an meinem Finger
da hast du mich erst belehrt,
Hast meinem Blick erschlossen
des Lebens unendlichen, tiefen Wert.
Ich will ihm dienen, ihm leben,
Ihm angehören ganz,
Hin selber mich geben und finden
Verklärt mich in seinem Glanz.
Du Ring an meinem Finger,
Mein goldenes Ringelein,
Ich drücke dich fromm an die Lippen,
Dich fromm an das Herze mein.You ring on my finger
You ring on my finger,
my golden little ring,
I press you devoutly to my lips,
to my heart.
I had finished dreaming
childhood’s peaceful dream,
I found myself alone,
forlorn in boundless desolation.
You ring on my finger,
you first taught me,
opened my eyes
To life’s deep eternal worth.
I shall serve him, live for him,
Belong to him wholly,
Yield to him and find
Myself transfigured in his light.
You ring on my finger,
my golden little ring,
I press you devoutly to my lips,
to my heart.Helft mir, ihr Schwestern
Helft mir, ihr Schwestern,
freundlich mich schmücken,
dient der Glücklichen heute mir,
windet geschäftig
mir um die Stirne
noch der blühenden Myrte Zier.
Als ich befriedigt,
freudigen Herzens,
sonst dem Geliebten im Arme lag,
immer noch rief er,
Sehnsucht im Herzen,
ungeduldig den heutigen Tag.
Helft mir, ihr Schwestern,
helft mir verscheuchen
eine törichte Bangigkeit,
dass ich mit klarem
Aug ihn empfange,
ihn, die Quelle der Freudigkeit.
Bist, mein Geliebter,
du mir erschienen,
giebst du mir, Sonne, deinen Schein?
lass mich in Andacht,
lass mich in Demut,
lass mich verneigen dem Herren mein.
Streuet ihm, Schwestern,
streuet ihm Blumen,
bringet ihm knospende Rosen dar,
Aber euch, Schwestern,
grüss ich mit Wehmut,
freudig scheidend aus eurer ScharHelp me, my sisters
Help me, my sisters,
with my bridal attire,
Serve me today in my joy,
Busily braid
about my brow
the wreath of blossoming myrtle.
When with contentment
and joy in my heart
I lay in my beloved’s arms,
He still called,
with longing heart,
impatiently for this day.
Help me, my sisters,
Help me banish
a foolish fearfulness;
So that I with bright eyes
may receive him,
The source of all my joy.
Have you, my love,
really entered my life,
Do you, O sun, give me your glow?
Let me in reverence,
let me in humility
Bow before my lord.
Scatter flowers, O sisters,
scatter flowers before him,
Bring him budding roses.
But you, sisters,
I greet with sadness,
As I joyfully take leave of you.Süßer Freund
Süsser Freund, du blickest
mich verwundert an,
kannst es nicht begreifen,
wie ich weinen kann;
lass der feuchten Perlen
ungewohnte Zier
freudig hell erzittern
in dem Auge mir!
Wie so bang mein Busen,
wie so wonnevoll,
wüsst ich nur mit Worten,
wie ich’s sagen soll;
komm und birg dein Antlitz
hier an meiner Brust,
will in’s Ohr dir flüstern
alle meine Lust.
Weisst du nun die Tränen,
die ich weinen kann,
sollst du nicht sie sehen,
du geliebter Mann?
Bleib an meinem Herzen,
fühle dessen Schlag,
dass ich fest und fester
nur dich drücken mag.
Hier an meinem Bette
hat die Wiege Raum,
wo sie still verberge
meinen holden Traum;
kommen wird der Morgen,
wo der Traum erwacht,
und daraus dein Bildnis
mir entgegen lacht.Sweet Friend
Sweet friend, you look
at me in wonder,
You cannot understand
how I can weep;
Let the unfamiliar beauty
of these moist pearls
Tremble joyfully bright
in my eyes!
How anxious my heart is,
how full of bliss!
If only I knew
how to say it in words;
Come and hide your face
here against my breast,
For me to whisper you
all my joy.
Do you now understand the tears
that I can weep,
Should you not see them,
beloved husband?
Stay by my heart,
feel how it beats,
That I may press you
closer and closer.
Here by my bed
there is room for the cradle,
Silently hiding
my blissful dream;
The morning shall come
when the dream awakens,
And your likeness
laughs up at me.An meinem Herzen, an meiner Brust
An meinem Herzen, an meiner Brust,
du meine Wonne, du meine Lust!
Das Glück ist die Liebe, die Lieb ist das Glück,
ich hab’s gesagt und nehm’s nicht zurück.
Hab überschwenglich mich geschätzt,
bin überglücklich aber jetzt.
Nur die da säugt, nur die da liebt
das Kind, dem sie die Nahrung giebt;
Nur eine Mutter weiss allein,
was lieben heisst und glücklich sein.
O, wie bedaur’ ich doch den Mann,
der Mutterglück nicht fühlen kann!
Du lieber, lieber Engel, du
du schauest mich an und lächelst dazu!
An meinem Herzen, an meiner Brust,
du meine Wonne, du meine Lust!On my heart, at my breast
On my heart, at my breast,
You my delight, my joy!
Happiness is love, love is happiness,
I’ve always said and say so still.
I thought myself rapturous,
But now am delirious with joy.
Only she who suckles, only she who loves
The child that she nourishes;
Only a mother knows
What it means to love and be happy.
Ah, how I pity the man
Who cannot feel a mother’s bliss!
You dear, dear angel, you,
You look at me and you smile!
On my heart, at my breast,
You my delight, my joy!Nun hast du mir den ersten Schmerz getan
Nun hast du mir den ersten Schmerz getan,
der aber traf.
Du schläfst, du harter, unbarmherz’ger Mann,
den Todesschlaf.
Es blicket die Verlassne vor sich hin,
die Welt ist leer.
geliebet hab ich und gelebt, ich bin
nicht lebend mehr.
Ich zieh mich in mein Innres still zurück,
der Schleier fällt,
da hab ich dich und mein verlornes Glück,
du meine Welt!
Adelbert von Chamisso (1781-1838)Now you have caused me my first pain
Now you have caused me my first pain,
But it struck hard,
you sleep, you harsh and pitiless man,
the sleep of death.
The deserted one stares ahead,
the world is void.
I have loved and I have lived,
And now my life is done.
Silently I withdraw into myself,
the veil falls,
There I have you and my lost happiness,
You, my world!
Translations by Richard Stokes, author of The Book of Lieder (Faber, 2005) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder- www.oxfordlieder.co.uk---intermission
Claude Debussy | Quatre chansons de jeunesse
Pantomime
Clair de lune
Pierrot
ApparitionTexts
Pantomime
Pierrot, qui n’a rien d’un Clitandre,
Vide un flacon sans plus attendre,
Et, pratique, entame un pâté.
Cassandre, au fond de l’avenue,
Verse une larme méconnue
Sur son neveu déshérité.
Ce faquin d’Arlequin combine
L’enlèvement de Colombine
Et pirouette quatre fois.
Colombine rêve, surprise
De sentir un coeur dans la brise
Et d’entendre en son coeur des voix.
Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896)Pantomime
Pierrot, who is no Clitandre,
Gulps down a bottle without delay
And, being practical, starts on a pie.
Cassandre, at the end of the avenue,
Sheds an unnoticed tear
For his disinherited nephew.
That rogue of a Harlequin schemes
How to abduct Colombine
And pirouettes four times.
Colombine dreams, amazed
To sense a heart in the breeze
And hear voices in her heart.
Translations by Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder- www.oxfordlieder.co.ukClair de lune
Votre âme est un paysage choisi
que vont charmant masques et bergamasques
Jouant du luth et dansant et quasi
tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques.
Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur
L’amour vainqueur et la vie opportune,
Ils n’ont pas l’air de croire à leur bonheur
et leur chanson se mêle au clair de lune,
Au calme clair de lune triste et beau,
qui fait rêver les oiseaux dans les arbres
et sangloter d’extase les jets d’eau,
les grands jets d’eau sveltes parmi les marbres.
Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896)Moonlight
Your soul is a chosen landscape
bewitched by masquers and bergamaskers,
playing the lute and dancing and almost
sad beneath their fanciful disguises.
Singing as they go in a minor key
of conquering love and life’s favours,
they do not seem to believe in their fortune
and their song mingles with the light of the moon,
The calm light of the moon, sad and fair,
that sets the birds dreaming in the trees
and the fountains sobbing in their rapture,
tall and svelte amid marble statues.
Translations by Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder- www.oxfordlieder.co.ukPierrot
Le bon Pierrot, que la foule contemple,
Ayant fini les noces d’Arlequin,
Suit en songeant le boulevard du Temple.
Une fillette au souple casaquin
En vain l’agace de son œil coquin;
Et cependant mystérieuse et lisse
Faisant de lui sa plus chère délice,
La blanche lune aux cornes de taureau
Jette un regard de son œil en coulisse
à son ami Jean Gaspard Deburau.
Théodore de Banville (1823 - 1891)Pierrot
Good old Pierrot, watched by the crowd,
Having done with Harlequin’s wedding,
Drifts dreamily along the boulevard of the Temple.
A girl in a flowing blouse
Vainly leads him on with her teasing eyes;
And meanwhile, mysterious and sleek,
Cherishing him above all else,
The white moon with horns like a bull
Ogles her friend
Jean Gaspard Deburau.
Translations by Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder- www.oxfordlieder.co.ukApparition
La lune s’attristait. Des séraphins en pleurs
rêvant, l’archet aux doigts, dans le calme des fleurs
vaporeuses, tiraient de mourantes violes
De blancs sanglots glissant sur l’azur des corolles.
—C’était le jour béni de ton premier baiser.
Ma songerie aimant à me martyriser
S’enivrait savamment du parfum de tristesse
Que même sans regret et sans déboire laisse
La cueillaison d’un Rêve au cœur qui l’a cueilli.
J’errais donc, l’œil rivé sur le pavé vieilli,
Quand avec du soleil aux cheveux, dans la rue
Et dans le soir, tu m’es en riant apparue
Et j’ai cru voir la fée au chapeau de claret
Qui jadis sur mes beaux sommeils d’enfant gâté
Passait, laissant toujours de ses mains mal fermées
Neiger de blancs bouquets d’étoiles parfumées.
Stéphane Mallarmé (1842-1898)Apparition
The moon grew sad. Weeping seraphim,
dreaming, bows in hand, in the calm of hazy
flowers, drew from dying viols
white sobs that glided over the corollas’ blue.
—It was the blessed day of your first kiss.
My dreaming, glad to torment me,
grew skillfully drunk on the perfumed sadness
that—without regret or bitter after-taste—
the harvest of a Dream leaves in the reaper’s heart.
And so I wandered, my eyes fixed on the old paving stones,
when with sun-flecked hair, in the street
and in the evening, you appeared laughing before me
and I thought I glimpsed the fairy with her cap of light
who long ago crossed my lovely spoilt child’s slumbers,
always allowing from her half-closed hands
white bouquets of scented flowers to snow.
Translations by Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder- www.oxfordlieder.co.ukLibby Larsen | Songs from Letters
So Like Your Father's
He Never Misses
A Man Can Love Two Woman
A Working Woman
All I HaveTexts
So Like Your Father’s
Janey, a letter came today
and a picture of you.
Your expression so like your father’s
brought back all the years.
He Never Misses
I met your father ‘Wild Bill Hickok’ near Abilene.
A bunch of outlaws were trying to kill him.
I crawled through the brush to warn him.
Bill killed them all.
I’ll never forget…
Blood running down his face
while he used two guns.
He never aimed and he was never known to miss.
A Man Can Love Two Women
Don’t let jealousy get you, Janey.
It kills love and all nice things,
It drove your father from me.
I lost everything I loved except for you.
A man can love two women at a time.
He loved her and he still loved me.
Because of you, Janey.
A Working Woman
Your mother works for a living.
One day I have chickens, and the next day feathers.
These days I’m driving a stagecoach.
For a while, I worked in Russell’s saloon
but when I worked there all the virtuous women
planned to run me out of town,
so these days, I’m driving a stagecoach.
I’ll be leaving soon to join Bill Cody’s Wild West Show.
I’ll ride a horse bare-back,
standing up, shooting my Stetson hat twice-
throwing it into the air-
and landing on my head.
These are hectic days – like hell let out for noon.
I mind my own business, but remember
the one thing the world hates is a woman
who minds her own business.
All the virtuous women
have bastards and shot-gun weddings.
I have nursed them through childbirth and
my only pay is a kick in the pants when my back is turned.
These other women are pot bellied, hairy legged
and they look like something the cat dragged in.
I wish I had the power to damn their souls to hell!
Your mother works for a living.
All I Have
I am going blind.
All hope of seeing you again is dead, Janey.
What have I ever done except one blunder after another.
All I have left are these pictures of you and your father.
Don’t pity me, Janey.
forgive me faults and all the wrong I did you.
Good night, little girl,
And may God keep you from harm.
Calamity Jane (1852-1903)