Recital: Zabriel Rivers '21 MM, Countertenor
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.
Zabriel Rivers '21 MM studies Voice with MaryAnn McCormick.
- Zabriel Rivers '21 MM, countertenor
- Alice Chenyang Xu, piano
- MaryAnn McCormick, studio instructor
Alessandro Scarlatti | Songs
Toglietemi la vita ancorfromIl Pompeo
Le violette
Cara e dolce dolceAlessandro Scarlatti was an Italian Baroque composer, highly recognized for his chamber cantatas and operas. Toglietemi la vita ancor, from Minato, is a melodious Italian aria. It is a cry to the heavens saying that it may take a life rather than the heart of a person. Le violette is the famous art song that describes a beautiful flower with an arousing aroma and beautiful petals. Cara e dolce talks about liberty and the natural drive to overcome obstacles, with the belief that hardships can be overcome. These three Italian art songs are my personal favorites by Scarlatti. These upbeat songs are very pleasing and contain beautiful messages.
Texts
Toglietemi la vita ancor
Toglietemi la vita ancor,
crudeli cieli,
se mi volete rapir il cor,
toglietemi la vita ancor.
Negatemi i rai del dì,
severe sfere,
se vaghe siete del mio dolor,
toglietemi la vita ancor.
Niccolò MinatoYou can even take away my life
[You can] even take away my life,
cruel heavens,
if you want to carry off my heart,
Take away my life.
Deny me the sun’s rays,
severe spheres,
if you are pleased with my sadness,
Just take away my life.
Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2015 by Laura Prichard reprinted by permission from the LiederNet Archive, https://www.lieder.net/Le violette
Rugiadose
Odorose
Violette graziose,
Voi vi state
Vergognose,
Mezzo ascose
Fra le foglie,
E sgridate
Le mie voglie,
Che son troppo ambiziose.
Adriano MorselliViolets
Dewy
Scented
violets pretty,
You stand
Ashamed (shy),
Half hidden
Among the leaves,
And you scold
My desires,
That are too ambitious.
Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2005 by Pietro Sirena reprinted by permission from the LiederNet Archive, https://www.lieder.net/Cara e dolce dolce
Cara e dolce dolce,
Dolcissima libertà,
quanto ti piange il core.
Fra i lacci d'un crin d'oro
Prova d'un ciglio arcier la crudeltà.
Le dure ritorte,
Che rigida sorte
Mi dà per mercé
Mi stringono i pié
E al mio lungo penar negan pietà.
AnonymousDear and very sweet
Dear and very sweet,
sweetest liberty,
however much my heart weeps for you.
Caught in the bonds of a golden head of hair,
it feels the cruelty of an eye that shoots arrows.
The hard ropes
that unbending fate
gives me in mercy
tie my feet together
and deny pity to my long suffering.
Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2005 by John Glenn Paton, reprinted by permission from the LiederNet Archive, https://www.lieder.net/Reynaldo Hahn | Songs
Fêtes galantes
L’heure exquise
À ChlorisReynaldo Hahn was a Venezuelan composer, who is known for his widely popular French compositions. A French mélodie is the form of French art songs that arose in the mid-nineteenth century. Fêtes Galantes is a beautiful mélodie that describes a party at which the Greek Gods are the attendees. The joyous and upbeat melody takes the listeners through the various immortals who are enjoying the grand festivities. L’heure exquiseis a love song song that tells Hahn’s passion for love and happiness. À Chloris is a beautiful French mélodie about finding strength in love.
Texts
Fêtes galantes
Les donneurs de sérénades
Et les belles écouteuses
Échangent des propos fades
Sous les ramures chanteuses.
C'est Tircis et c'est Aminte,
Et c'est l'éternel Clitandre,
Et c'est Damis qui pour mainte
Cruelle fait maint vers tendre.
Leurs courtes vestes de soie,
Leurs longues robes à queues,
Leur élégance, leur joie
Et leurs molles ombres bleues,
Tourbillonnent dans l'extase
D'une lune rose et grise,
Et la mandoline jase
Parmi les frissons de brise.
Paul Verlaine
The givers of serenades
And the lovely women who listen
Exchange insipid words
Under the singing branches.
There is Thyrsis and Amyntas
And there's the eternal Clytander,
And there's Damis who, for many a
Heartless woman, wrote many a tender verse.
Their short silk coats,
Their long dresses with trains,
Their elegance, their joy
And their soft blue shadows,
Whirl around in the ecstasy
Of a pink and grey moon,
And the mandolin prattles
Among the shivers from the breeze.
Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust,
from the LiederNet Archive -- https://www.lieder.net/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 VerlaineThe exquisite 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, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder-www.oxfordlieder.co.ukÀ Chloris
S'il est vrai Chloris que tu m'aimes,
Mais j'entends que tu m'aimes bien,
Je ne crois pas que les Rois mêmes
Aient un bonheur pareil au mien.
Que la mort serait importune,
A venir changer ma fortune
Pour la felicité des Dieux;
Tout ce qu'on dit de l'ambrosie
Ne touche point ma fantaisie,
Aux prix des grâces de tes yeux.
Théophile de ViauTo Chloris
If it be true, Chloris, that you love me,
(And I'm told you love me dearly),
I do not believe that even kings
Can match the happiness I know.
Even death would be powerless
To alter my fortune
With the promise of heavenly bliss!
All that they say of ambrosia
Does not stir my imagination
Like the favour of your eyes!
Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder-www.oxfordlieder.co.ukXavier Montsalvatge | from Cinco Canciónes Negras
Chévere
Cuba dentro de un piano
Canto NegroXavier Montsalvatge is known as one of the most influential Spanish composers of the twentieth century. Montsalvatge wrote Cinco Canciones Negras, one of his most famous song cycles, in 1945. The three songs that will be presented from the song cycle, describe the unique culture of Cuba and take the listener through various periods in Cuban history. Chévere is a unique composition that compels the listeners about a violent spirit. Cuba dentro de un piano describes the beautiful scenery and history of the country during their war of independence. Canto Negro is a fun and vibrant piece which describes a man who drinks, sings, and dances with his fellow people.
Texts
Chévere
Chévere del navajazo,
se vuelve él mismo navaja:
pica tajadas de luna,
mas la luna se le acaba;
pica tajadas de sombra,
mas la sombra se le acaba;
pica tajadas de canto,
mas el canto se le acaba;
y entonces pica que pica
carne de su negra mala.
Nicolás GuillénThe Dandy
Translation © Jacqueline Cockburn and Richard Stokes published in the The Spanish Song Companion (Gollancz, 1992) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder-www.oxfordlieder.co.uk
The dandy of the knife thrust
himself becomes a knife:
he cuts slices of the moon,
but the moon is fading on him;
he cuts slices of shadow,
but the shadow is fading on him,
he cuts slices of song,
but the song is fading on him;Z
and then he cuts up, cuts up
the flesh of his evil black woman.Cuba dentro de un piano
Cuando mi madre llevaba un sorbete de fresa
por sombrero
y el humo de los barcos aun era humo de habanero.
Mulata vuelta bajera.
Cádiz se adormecía entre fandangos y habaneras
y un lorito al piano quería hacer de tenor.
Dime dónde está la flor que el hombre tanto venera.
Mi tío Antonio volvía con su aire de insurrecto.
La Cabaña y el Príncipe sonaban por los patios
del Puerto.
(Ya no brilla la Perla azul del mar de las Antillas.
Ya se apagó, se nos ha muerto).
Me encontré con la bella Trinidad.
Cuba se había perdido y ahora era verdad.
Era verdad, no era mentira.
Un cañonero huido llegó cantándolo en guajiras.
La Habana ya se perdió. Tuvo la culpa el dinero...
Calló, cayó el cañonero.
Pero después, pero ¡ah! después...
fue cuando al SÍ lo hicieron YES
Rafael Alberti MerelloCuba in a piano
When my mother wore a strawberry ice
for a hat
and the smoke from the boats was still Havana smoke.Mulata from Vuelta Abajo …
Cadiz was falling asleep to fandango and habanera
and a little parrot at the piano tried to sing tenor.
… tell me, where is the flower that a man can really respect.
My uncle Anthony would come home in his rebellious way.
The Cabaña and El Príncipe resounded in the patios of the
port.
(But the blue pearl of the Carribean shines no more.Extinguished. For us no more.)
I met beautiful Trinidad …
Cuba was lost, this time it was true.
True and not a lie.
A gunner on the run arrived, sang Cuban songs about it all.
Havana was lost and money was to blame …
The gunner went silent, and fell.
But later, ah, later
they changed SÍ to YES.
Translation © Jacqueline Cockburn and Richard Stokes published in the The Spanish Song Companion (Gollancz, 1992) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder-www.oxfordlieder.co.ukCanto Negro
¡Yambambó, yambambé!
Repica el congo solongo,
repica el negro bien negro.
congo solongo del Songo
baila yambó sobre un pie.
Mamatomba,
serembé cuserembá,
El negro canta y se ajuma.
el negro se ajuma y canta.
el negro canta y se va.
Acuemem e serembó
aé,
yambó
aé.
Tamba, tamba, tamba, tamba,
tamba del negro que tumba,
tamba del negro, caramba,
caramba, que el negro tumba,
¡Yambá, yambó, yambambé!
Nicolás GuillénNegro Song
¡Yambambó, yambambé!
The congo solongo is ringing,
the black man, the real black man is ringing;
congo solongo from the Songo
is dancing the yambó on one foot.
Mamatomba,
Serembe cuserembá.
The black man sings and gets drunk,
the black man gets drunk and sings,
the black man sings and goes away.
Acuemem e serembó
aé.
yambó
aé.
Bam, bam, bam, bam,
bam of the black man who tumbles;
drum of the black man, wow,
wow, how the black man's tumbling!
¡Yambá, yambó, yambambé!
Translation by Jacqueline Cockburn and Richard Stokes published in the The Spanish Song Companion (Gollancz, 1992), provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)Jake Heggie | from The Faces of Love
Countertenor's Conundrum
The trouble with trebles in trousersJake Heggie, born on March 31, 1961, is an American composer. His works include opera, orchestral, vocal, and chamber music. The two pieces performed are from the song cycle, The Faces of Love. These pieces were written specifically for countertenors. The song Countertenor’s Conundrum, describes the unique history of the castrati, the original countertenors. The trouble with trebles in trousers, is a fun art song that makes light of the stereotypical norms that a countertenor faces in the world of classical music.
Texts
Countertenor’s Conundrum
This note from my throat
Conjures imagined memories
Of altered males who stood upon a stage
And with their scales and trills
Sang stories of heroic deeds
Which seemed to satisfy the needs
of list’ners long dead and gone
Now we are here to carry on
This note from my throat
Causes creative fantasies
Of times gone by
when pampered neuters sang
And they would try to move their audience
With grace and art
Still mindful of that missing part
That changed their lives and made their song
So precious rare and yet so wrong
The songs they sang I’ll sing again
A modern echo of those men
I'll train my voice stylistically correct
And hope these threads of tissue
In my throat connect
With something of those spirit voices
Trilling soft and sweet
Now here am I tense present ad complete
This note comes from my heart
John Hall
The Trouble with Trebles in Trousers
It wasn’t long ago that people laughed when i would sing
They weren’t uncomf’rtable with what I had to say
But when i tried it to a tune
They all would look away
The smirk upon their faces taught me this small thing
Pitch can be a bitch
My post pubescent peer group in a touring school boy choir
Would never mention it but i could clearly see
Their smug and spotty faces singing
Parts marked “T” or “B”
But when I tried to baritone, I was a liar
Pitch can be a bitch
Even teachers who specialize in voices
Believed I had some choices
When they heard me
they’d shake their heads and wonder
How did it get so much like a mezzo
I have to smile when I think back to those days in the past
For now those very notes are what I’m paid to sing
We men who sing these higher notes
Are few and far between
You’ve heard it said that laughter's best when it is last
Pitch can be bitch
But so can I
John Hall