Recital: Matthew Christopher '22 MM, 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.
Matthew Christopher '22 MM studies Voice with Michael Meraw.
This performance is open to in-person audiences, and can also be viewed below via livestream.
- Matthew Christopher '22 MM, baritone
- Michael Meraw, studio teacher
Johann Sebastian Bach | Ich will den Kreuzstab gerne tragen, BWV 56
Arie: Ich will den Kreuzstab gerne tragen
Rezitativ: Mein Wandel auf dem Welt
Arie: Endlich, endlich wird mein Joch
Rezitativ und Arioso: Ich stehe fertig und bereit
Choral: Komm, o Tod du Schlafes BruderTexts
Ich will den Kreuzstab gerne tragen
Arie
Ich will den Kreuzstab gerne tragen,
Er kommt von Gottes lieber Hand,
Der führet mich nach meinen Plagen
Zu Gott, in das gelobte Land.
Da leg ich den Kummer auf einmal ins Grab,
Da wischt mir die Tränen mein Heiland selbst ab.
Rezitativ
Mein Wandel auf der Welt
Ist einer Schiffahrt gleich:
Betrübnis, Kreuz und Not
Sind Wellen, welche mich bedecken
Und auf den Tod
Mich täglich schrecken;
Mein Anker aber, der mich hält,
Ist die Barmherzigkeit,
Womit mein Gott mich oft erfreut.
Der rufet so zu mir:
Ich bin bei dir,
Ich will dich nicht verlassen noch versäumen!
Und wenn das wütenvolle Schäumen
Sein Ende hat,
So tret ich aus dem Schiff in meine Stadt,
Die ist das Himmelreich,
Wohin ich mit den Frommen
Aus vielem Trübsal werde kommen.
Arie
Endlich, endlich wird mein Joch
Wieder von mir weichen müssen.
Da krieg ich in dem Herren Kraft,
Da hab ich Adlers Eigenschaft,
Da fahr ich auf von dieser Erden
Und laufe sonder matt zu werden.
O gescheh es heute noch!
Rezitativ und Arioso
Ich stehe fertig und bereit,
Das Erbe meiner Seligkeit
Mit Sehnen und Verlangen
Von Jesus Händen zu empfangen.
Wie wohl wird mir geschehn,
Wenn ich den Port der Ruhe werde sehn.
Da leg ich den Kummer auf einmal ins Grab,
Da wischt mir die Tränen mein Heiland selbst ab.
Christoph Birkmann
Choral
Komm, o Tod, du Schlafes Bruder,
Komm und führe mich nur fort;
Löse meines Schiffleins Ruder,
Bringe mich an sichern Port!
Es mag, wer da will, dich scheuen,
Du kannst mich vielmehr erfreuen;
Denn durch dich komm ich herein
Zu dem schönsten Jesulein.
Johann FranckI will gladly carry the Cross
Aria
I will gladly carry the Cross,
it comes from God's dear hand,
and leads me, after my troubles,
to God, in the promised land.
There at last I will lay my sorrow in the grave,
there my Savior himself will wipe away my tears.
Recitative
My pilgrimage in the world
is like a sea voyage:
trouble, suffering, and anguish
are the waves that cover me
and to death itself
daily terrify me;
my anchor however, which holds me firm,
is mercy,
with which my God often appeases me.
He calls thus to me:
I am with you,
I will not forsake you or abandon you!
And when the raging torrents
are come to an end,
then I will step off the ship into my city,
which is the kingdom of heaven,
where with the righteous
I will emerge out of many troubles.
Aria
Finally, finally my yoke
must fall away from me.
Then will I fight with the Lord's strength,
then I will have an eagle's power,
then I will journey from this earth
and run without becoming fatigued.
O let it happen today!
Recitative and Arioso
I stand ready and prepared
to receive the inheritance of my divinity
with desire and longing
from Jesus' hands.
How good would it be for me,
if I could see the port of rest.
There at last I will lay my sorrow in the grave,
there my Savior himself will wipe away my tears.
Chorale
Come, o death, brother of sleep,
come and lead me away;
release the rudder of my little ship,
bring me to the secure harbor!
He may shun you who will,
you can delight me much more;
for through you I will come
to my loveliest little Jesus.
Translation ©Pamela Dellal, courtesy of Emmanuel Music Inc.
www.emmanuelmusic.org.Artists- Maegan Hoogerhyde, soprano
- Juliette Kaoudji, mezzo-soprano
- Josaphat Contreras, tenor
- Clayton Hancock, violin
- Sarah Tindall, cello
Gabriel Fauré | L’horizon chimérique, op. 118
La mer est infinie
Je me suis embarqué
Diane, Séléné
Vaisseaux, nous vous aurons aimésTexts
L’horizon chimérique, op. 118
La mer est infinie
La mer est infinie et mes rêves sont fous.
La mer chante au soleil en battant les falaises
Et mes rêves légers ne se sentent plus d'aise
De danser sur la mer comme des oiseaux soûls.
Le vaste mouvement des vagues les emporte,
La brise les agite et les roule en ses plis;
Jouant dans le sillage, ils feront une escorte
Aux vaisseaux que mon cœur dans leur fuite a suivis.
Ivres d'air et de sel et brûlés par l'écume
De la mer qui console et qui lave des pleurs
Ils connaîtront le large et sa bonne amertume;
Les goélands perdus les prendront pour des leurs.
Je me suis embarqué
Je me suis embarqué sur un vaisseau qui danse
Et roule bord sur bord et tangue et se balance.
Mes pieds ont oublié la terre et ses chemins ;
Les vagues souples m'ont appris d'autres cadences
Plus belles que le rythme las des chants humains.
À vivre parmi vous, hèlas ! avais-je une âme ?
Mes frères, j'ai souffert sur tous vos continents.
Je ne veux que la mer, je ne veux que le vent
Pour me bercer, comme un enfant, au creux des lames.
Hors du port qui n'est plus qu'une image effacée,
Les larmes du départ ne brûlent plus mes yeux.
Je ne me souviens pas de mes derniers adieux...
Ô ma peine, ma peine, où vous ai-je laisse?
Diane, Séléné
Diane, Séléné, lune de beau métal,
Qui reflète vers nous, par ta face déserte,
Dans l'immortel ennui du calme sidéral,
Le regret d'un soleil dont nous pleurons la perte.
Ô lune, je t'en veux de ta limpidité
Injurieuse au trouble vain des pauvres âmes,
Et mon cœur, toujours las et toujours agité,
Aspire vers la paix de ta nocturne flamme.
Vaisseaux, nous vous aurons aimés
Vaisseaux, nous vous aurons aimés en pure perte;
Le dernier de vous tous est parti sur la mer.
Le couchant emporta tant de voiles ouvertes
Que ce port et mon cœur sont à jamais déserts.
La mer vous a rendus à votre destinée,
Au-delà du rivage où s'arrêtent nos pas.
Nous ne pouvions garder vos âmes enchaînées;
Il vous faut des lointains que je ne connais pas.
Je suis de ceux dont les désirs sont sur la terre.
Le souffle qui vous grise emplit mon cœur d'effroi,
Mais votre appel, au fond des soirs, me désespère,
Car j'ai de grands départs inassouvis en moi.
Jean de La Ville de MirmontThe Illusory Horizon
The sea is boundless
The sea is boundless and my dreams are wild.
The sea sings in the sun, as it beats the cliffs,
And my light dreams are overjoyed
To dance on the sea like drunken birds.
The waves’ vast motion bears them away,
The breeze ruffles and rolls them in its folds;
Playing in their wake, they will escort the ships,
Whose flight my heart has followed.
Drunk with air and salt, and stung by the spume
Of the consoling sea that washes away tears,
They will know the high seas and the bracing brine;
Lost gulls will take them for their own.
I have embarked
I have embarked on a ship that reels
And rolls and pitches and rocks.
My feet have forgotten the land and its ways;
The lithe waves have taught me other rhythms,
Lovelier than the tired ones of human song.
Ah! did I have the heart to live among you?
Brothers, on all your continents I’ve suffered.
I want only the sea, I want only the wind
To cradle me like a child in the trough of the waves.
Far from the port, now but a faded image,
Tears of parting no longer sting my eyes.
I can no longer recall my final farewells …
O my sorrow, my sorrow, where have I left you?
Diana, Selene
Diana, Selene, moon of beautiful metal,
Reflecting on us, from your deserted face,
In the eternal tedium of sidereal calm,
The regret of a sun whose loss we lament.
O moon, I begrudge you your limpidity,
Mocking the fruitless commotion of wretched souls,
And my heart, ever weary and ever uneasy,
Longs for the peace of your nocturnal flame.
Ships, we shall have loved you
Ships, we shall have loved you to no avail,
The last of you all has set sail on the sea.
The sunset bore away so many spread sails,
That this port and my heart are forever forsaken.
The sea has returned you to your destiny,
Beyond the shores where our steps must halt.
We could not keep your souls enchained,
You require distant realms unknown to me.
I belong to those with earthbound desires.
The wind that elates you fills me with fright,
But your summons at nightfall makes me despair,
For within me are vast, unappeased departures.
Translation © Richard Stokes, author of A French Song
Companion (Oxford University Press);
Provided via Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)Sergei Rachmaninov | Romances
Она, как полдень, хороша
No. 9 from 12 Romances, op. 14
Я был у ней
No. 4 from 12 Romances, op. 14
О нет, молю не уходи!
No. 1 from6 Romances, op. 4Texts
Она, как полдень, хороша
Она, как полдень, хороша,
Она загадочнейполночи.
У нейнеплакавшияочи
И нестрадавшая душа.
А мне, чья жизнь борьба и горе,
По нейтомитьсясуждено. О!
Так вечно плачущее море
В безмолвныйберегвлюблено.
Nikolai Minsky
Я был у ней
Я был у ней; онасказала:
«Люблю тебя, моймилыйдруг!»
Но эту тайнуотподруг
Хранить мне строго завещала.
Я был у ней; напрелестьзлата
Клялась меня не променять;
Ко мне лишь страстию пылать,
Меня любить, любить, как брата.
Я был у ней; явечнобуду
С ее душойдушоюжить;
Пускайонамнеизменит—
Но я изменником не буду.
Aleksey Koltsov
О нет, молю не уходи!
О, нет, молю, не уходи!
Вся боль ничто перед разлукой,
Я слишком счастлив
Этоймукой,
Сильнейприжмименякгруди,
Скажи люблю.
Пришёлявновь,
Больной, измученныйибледный.
Смотри, какойяслабый, бедный,
Как мне нужна твоя любовь...
Мученийновыхвпереди
Я жду как ласк, как поцелуя,
И об одном молю, тоскуя:
О, будь со мной, неуходи!
Dmitry Sergeyevich MerezhkovskyShe is lovely as a midday
She is as lovely as a midday,
And as mysterious as midnight,
Her eyes have not known tears,
Or her soul, the inner torment.
But as for me, whose life is struggle and misfortune,
I am destined to long for her. Oh!
As the eternally-weeping sea
Is forever infatuated with the silent shore.
Translation from Russian to English copyright ©
by Anton Belov, reprinted with permission from
RussianArtSong.com, https://www.russianartsong.com
I came to her
I came to her, and she said:
‘I love you, my dear friend!’
But she bad me solemnly
To keep this secret from her girlfriends.
I came to her, and she vowed
Never to forsake me for love of gold;
To burn with passion for me alone,
To love me, love me as a brother.
I came to her, and I will live for ever,
My soul deep in hers.
She may betray me if she will,
But I will never be a traitor.
Translation by © Philip Ross Bullock provided
courtesy of Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)
Оh, no, I pray, don’t leave!
Оh, no, I pray, don't leave!
The greatest pain is nothing compared to separation,
I am too happy
by this torment,
Firmly press me to your breast,
And say that you love me.
I came again,
Sick, emaciated and pale,
Look how weak I am, how impoverished,
How much I need your love...
New torments ahead of me,
I await like sweet caresses and kisses,
And in my anguish I only pray:
Oh, stay with me, don’t leave!
Translation from Russian to English copyright ©
by Anton Belov, reprinted with permission from
RussianArtSong.com, https://www.russianartsong.comCharles Ives | from 114 Songs
Memories, No. 102
Down East, No. 55
Tom Sails Away, No. 51
The Light That is Felt, No. 66Texts
Memories
A. Very Pleasant
We’re sitting in the opera house;
We’re waiting for the curtain to arise
With wonders for our eyes;
We’re feeling pretty gay,
And well we may,
“O, Jimmy, look!” I say,
“The band is tuning up
And soon will start to play.”
We whistle and we hum,
Beat time with the drum.
We’re sitting in the opera house;
We’re waiting for the curtain to arise
With wonders for our eyes,
A feeling of expectancy,
A certain kind of ecstasy,
Expectancy and ecstasy… Sh’s’s’s. “Curtain!”
B. Rather Sad
From the street a strain on my ear doth fall,
A tune as threadbare as that “old red shawl,”
It is tattered, it is torn,
It shows signs of being worn,
It’s the tune my Uncle hummed from early morn,
‘Twas a common little thing and kind ‘a sweet,
But ’twas sad and seemed to slow up both his feet;
I can see him shuffling down
To the barn or to the town,
A humming.
Down East
Songs! Visions of my homeland,
come with strains of childhood,
Come with tunes we sang in school days
and with songs from mother’s heart;
Way down east in a village by the sea,
stands an old, red farm house
that watches o’er the lea;
All that is best in me,
lying deep in memory,
draws my heart where I would be,
nearer to thee.
Ev’ry Sunday morning,
when the chores were almost done,
from that little parlor
sounds the old melodeon,
“Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee,”
With those strains a stronger hope
comes nearer to me.
Tom Sails Away
Scenes from my childhood are with me,
I’m in the lot behind our house upon the hill,
A spring day’s sun is setting,
mother with Tom in her arms
is coming towards the garden;
the lettuce rows are showing green.
Thinner grows the smoke o’er the town,
stronger comes the breeze from the ridge,
‘Tis after six, the whistles have blown,
the milk train’s gone down the valley
Daddy is coming up the hill from the mill,
We run down the lane to meet him
But today! In freedom’s cause Tom sailed away
for over there, over there!
Scenes from my childhood
are floating before my eyes.
Charles Ives
The Light That is Felt
A tender child of summers three,
at night, while seeking her little bed,
Paused on the dark stair timidly,
Oh, mother take my hand, said she,
And then the dark will all be light…
We older children grope our way
from dark behind to dark before;
And only when our hands we lay
in Thine, O God! the night is day,
and there is darkness never more.
John Greenleaf WhittierMaria Grever | Volveré
Text
Volveré
Yo sé que por mi ausencia
Mucho, mucho has llorado.
Y sé que habras pensado
Que al fin te olvidaré.
Pero es que no comprendes
Que estamos tan unidos,
Que el dia que menos pienses,
A tu lado estaré.
Volveré como vuelven
esas inquietas olas
coronadas de espuma
tus playas a bañar.
Volveré como vuelven
las blancas mariposas
al cáliz de las rosas
su néctar a libar.
Volveré por la noche,
cuando estés tú dormido
acallando un suspiro,
tus labios a besar.
Y para que no sepas
que estuve allí contigo,
como otra inquieta ola
me perderé en el mar.
Maria GreverI Will Return
I know that because of my absence,
You have wept so much.
And I know that you’ve thought
I will at last forget you.
But it’s just that you don’t understand
That we are so connected
That the day you least suspect it
I will be at your side.
I will return
like those restless waves return
crowned by foam
to wash over your beaches.
I will return
like white butterflies return
to the chalice of roses
to sip their nectar.
I will return in the night
when you’ve gone to sleep,
silencing a sigh
to kiss your lips.
And so that you never know
that I was there with you,
like another restless wave
I will be lost in the sea.
Translation by Matthew ChristopherArtists- Emily Mitchell, guitar
Félix Mata Bonilla | Primavera
Text
Primavera
De nuevo brilla el sol
es primavera otra vez,
Pasó el invierno cruel
Florece mi jardín
Del bosque yo escuché
El canto del ruiseñor
que va anunciando
con sus gorjeos
la primavera ya
Mi canción, cual estación primaveral
Llena de luz y de calor, cantará para tí
Te dirá lo triste de mi corazón
se siente cuando junto a mí no estás tú,
Te hablará quizás de historias mil de amor,
de juramentos de ilusión que borró el tiempo ya
Mi canción jamás decirte olvidará
Mientras exista el amor, primavera habrá.
Félix Mata de BonillaSpring
The sun is shining again
it’s spring once more
Cruel winter has passed
My garden is in bloom
From the forest I heard
The nightingale’s song
Who announces
with his chirping
it’s spring already.
My song, like the springtime
full of light and warmth, he will sing for you.
He will tell you of the sadness my heart
feels when you are not beside me.
Perhaps it will speak to you of a thousand stories of love,
Of hopeful promises that time has already erased.
My song will say it will never forget you
While love lives, there will be spring.
Translation by Matthew Christopher