ABOUT THE PROGRAM:

NOW LET ME FLY (African American spiritual)
OVER YANDRO (Appalachian folk song)

Two short songs from the wealth of traditional material brought to North America from other continents and still in a state of constant development.
—E.V.

Now let me fly
Way down yonder in the middle of the field,
Angel working at the chariot wheel.
Not so particular about working at the wheel,
But I just want to see how the chariot feel.

Now let me fly, let me fly, Now let me fly into Mount Zion, Lord, Lord.
  I got a mother in the Promised Land, Ain't gonna stop till I touch her hand.
Not so particular about touching her hand,
But I just want to get up in the Promised Land.

I got a father in the Promised Land, Ain't gonna stop till I shake his hand.
Not so particular about shaking his hand,
But I do want to get up in the Promised Land.

Over yandro
I'm going away for to stay a little while,
But I'm coming back, if I go ten thousand miles.
Oh, who will tie your shoes? And who will glove your hand?
And who will kiss your ruby lips when I am gone?
Look away, look away over Yandro.

  So you're going away for to stay a little while,
But you're coming back if you go ten thousand miles.
Well, it's Papa will tie my shoes. It's Mama will glove my hand.
And it's you will kiss my ruby lips when you come back.
Look away, look away over Yandro.

Three De la Cruz Fragments — JESSE D'AIELLO
In one of my favorite books, “Contact” by Carl Sagan, the author begins each chapter with a notable quote.  Chapter 2 begins with a quote from Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz.  It was a reply to the Bishop of Puebla (1691) who attacked her scholarly work as inappropriate for her sex.  Her response was so eloquent and clever, she inspired me to learn more about her life and work.  I stumbled upon these poems, which I set in excerpt - three out of a set of six.  I would like to thank Professor Alix Ingber, Professor of Spanish at Sweet Briar College for allowing me to use her translated texts of these poems.
—J.D.

1. from Which contains an amorous fantasy, content with platonic love
Halt, you shadow of my fleeting joy,
image of the charms I most desire,
lovely dream for whom I laughing die,
sweet untruth for whom I grieving live.
If to the magnet of your graces' pull,
my heart responds like an obedient steel,
to what end do you court me, flattering
if later you will mock me, fugitive?

2. de Escoge antes el morir que exponerse a los ultrajes de la vejez
Miró Celia una rosa que en el prado ostentaba feliz la pompa vana
y con afeites de carmín y grana bañaba alegre el rostro delicado;
y dijo: "Goza, sin temor del Hado, el curso breve de tu edad lozana,
pues no podrá la muerte de mañana quitarte lo que hubieres hoy gozado;

2. from She prefers to die rather than to expose herself to the affront of old age
Celia saw a rose which in the field its self-indulgent pomp gaily displayed and with its scarlet lipstick, crimson rouge its delicate visage joyfully bathed;
and she said, "Go enjoy, not fearing Fate, the brief course that your graceful youth obeys, for death that comes tomorrow never can
take from you what you have enjoyed today;

3. from Sonnet
Philip worships me and I abhor him; Leonard hates me; and for him I yearn; for him who would desire me not, I'm weeping,
and him who weeps for me I always spurn. To him who'd shame me most, my soul I offer; him who'd
sacrifice for me, I shame; I scorn him who'd exalt my reputation, of him who'd scorn it, I exalt the name.

(Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz; trans. Alix Ingber, 1995)

ATTICUS —ROGER ZAHAB
A miniature for solo piano, Atticus is a play on musical words: it is an Allemande for Atticus Alemán. It was written in spring 2008 and receives its premiere this evening. —G.L.

SELECTED ART SONGS—DARON HAGEN

The core of Hagen’s compositional output over the past thirty years has been art song. Today's selection is drawn from the full breadth of those years. The Waking Father was composed in France in 1989 and serves as the opening song in the cycle Muldoon Songs; Hagen has composed four major operas with the Pulitzer Prize winning Irish poet. A Suite of Appearances was written in Italy in 1993 and is dedicated to Mark Strand, the poet with whom Hagen was then in residence at the Rockefeller Foundation’s Villa Serbelloni; it is drawn from the cycle Letting Go. The solo voice song why did you go? comes from the cycle Echo’s Songs and was written in 1983 in Philadelphia. Confession was premièred by Ashley Putnam at the 92nd Street Y in New York City, accompanied by the composer, as part of the cycle Phantoms of Myself in 2000. Little Uneasy Song comes from the cycle Love Songs and was written in 1984 at the MacDowell Colony, in New Hampshire. The final selection, Holy Thursday, was written in France during the late eighties and concludes the cycle Muldoon Songs. —G.L.

The Waking Father
My father and I are catching spricklies Out of the Oona River.
They have us feeling righteous, The way we have thrown them back....
[This text is protected by copyright.]
(Paul Muldoon)

A Suite of Appearances
To sit in this chair and wonder where is endlessness...
[This text is protected by copyright.]
(Mark Strand)

Why did you go little four paws?
why did you go little four paws?
you forgot to shut your big eyes
where did you go like little kittens...
[This text is protected by copyright.]
(ee cummings)

Confession
I wasn’t any saint
I burned with earth
and cried
and bit what I could bite...
[This text is protected by copyright.]
(Susan Griffin)

Little Uneasy Song
A big bee thumphs along my northern window this morning.
I saw a man with an enormous belly mowing the lawn into stripes and packages.
I heard their buzzing all day, making sandwiches.
What does the sun offer when it reappears
after a whole day of grayness, followed by dusk?
How can you smile so sincerely?
I just want to hear the sun’s sweet sound.
The droning, the grayness, the long afternoon.
Nothing in the mail, and the querulous boy quarrels with his sister
the next yard over who wacked the newspaper in the wrong direction
before you walked in, not making a sound.
(Reine Hauser)

Holy Thursday
There kindly here, to let us linger so late, long after the shutters are up.
A waiter glides from the kitchen with a plate
of stew, or some thick soup....
[This text is protected by copyright.]
(Paul Muldoon)

AFTERIMAGE — PAULA M. KIMPER
From Paula M. Kimper's collection Early Works for solo piano, "Afterimage" is drawn from the set of three entitled On the Nature of Light (1992), in which it is paired against two other partner pieces, "Reflection" and "Refraction". —G.L.

COLETTE'S HEIRLOOMS —GILDA LYONS
When I met poet Colette Inez at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts in summer 2007, her glowing presence, striking sense of humor, quick mind and gift for word-play all charmed me beyond expression. From her powerfully positive nature, I'd have never imagined that she came from such a stormy beginning: an orphan from Belgium brought to the U.S. at age eight to live with a disturbed and ultimately abusive family (imagine a time when a suggested treatment for clinical depression was the adoption of a child). Profoundly moved by her memoir The Secret of M. Dulong, I spent the summer ruminating both on her path and on the impulses in me inspired by her story: to help, to adopt, to befriend, to offer some of my family heirlooms since she herself had so painfully few (after finally finding her birth mother, Colette writes to her "If you would choose to give me something your mother gave you, something of sentimental value, I would deeply appreciate it" but receives no response to the request.)

In processing Colette's story, I came to recognize that all of these first impulses of mine were utterly ridiculous: a strong and accomplished poet, Colette did not need my help; a mid-career artist by the time I was born, she certainly did not need adopting; a much-loved soul, she didn't even need my friendship, though I felt grateful that she accepted it; and, as for heirlooms: Colette made her own. In the lifetime of poems that she has written and shared with the world, Colette created a new kind of heirloom. From this life's work, I have assembled the collection that serves as text for the 15 minute song cycle Colette's Heirlooms.

Colette's Heirlooms, for treble voices, is dedicated with admiration, respect and friendship to Colette Inez. I extend my gratitude and appreciation to The ASCAP/Kingsford Fund for commissioning the work. —G.L.

1. Old Woman, Eskimo
Her singing makes the rain fall.
Her sewing brings clouds.
When she stops sewing,
the green weather comes.
When she stops singing,
the white weather comes
full of smooth threads
to sew up her song.

She has seen birth,
children waiting
for their names.

When she has stopped seeing,
the snow needles come
sewing the land
to the hem of the sky.
In her dream she is
a bone needle
that will not thread.
The hides
come undone
all her songs are gone
inside the rain for her children
to hear later on.

2. Skokie River Cadenzas
What is to come sleeps in the bud
now tilting upwards towards a thinning light.
Later, as I trace the path, the river passes out of sight.

3. Reading Da Leaves
what do you want
gimme a little something
before I start

you gonna write a lucky poem
that make you rich
in da dark I see big ship
you gonna meet this moviestar

I see in da leaves
you gonna have a long journey
in da fall da jackpot is yours
because of da poem

wait I see your poem on TV
you got a hit show
gods gotta make it right
gimme a little more

my mother got a bad heart
I can tell by your hand
you the kind of person
like to have fun with your brains

da moviestar is gonna love you
and you gonna read him da poem
but he has a bad heart

and has an attack
then you get an idea for this big poem
I don't have change for a ten
it's gonna be okay

4. God and Gravity

5. Sylvia, Aloft
God and gravity
will not change
their laws of flight
to pull her back
to the window ledge.
Her lament is at an end,
gone with the blue wind
blowing past
the ailanthus
in a morning
that shrugged
its shoulders,
as if it were routine
to see legs
scissor into air,
a robe's pink blotch
dart downward,
followed by
a fantail
of waved hair,
flicking past
the kitchen windows
of neighbors
who were not looking
up or out,
and did not believe
in angels.

6. Elizabeth, The Rain
softens the earth where you've fallen
far beyond the talk of souls becoming birds—Elizabeth, which bird is yours?
Sand hill crane, high flyer, bright crow?

Is it they who have taken you away from me?
Or a sandpiper at the lip of the foam
where seabirds pray to rain as another dominion of water?
Each day more souls fly in swarms

pulled by the sun and moon
above your stone—a green swell before the splash,
rainsoaked, distant grass
where clouds in flight console you,
but not the uproar in me at your leaving.

7. Lake Song
Every day our name is changed, say stones colliding into waves.
Go read our names on the shore, say waves colliding into stones.

Birds over water call their names to each other again and again
to say where they are. Where have you been, my small bird?

I know our names will change one day to stones in a field
of anemones and lavender.

Before you read the farthest wave, before our shadows disappear
in a starry blur, call out your name to say where we are.
—Colette Inez


LITTLE LULLABY —CRAIG URQUHART
Little Lullaby, a musical heirloom written in spring 2008, also receives its premiere this evening. A gentle miniature for solo piano, it is intended as a quiet study to soothe and comfort a young child. —G.L.

A SUITE OF IRISH SONGS—ARR. HAGEN/LYONS
In this set of traditional Irish folk songs, we offer five of our favorites: some that we've carried with us since we can remember, others newly discovered in our musical travels from Dublin to Sligo in fall 2004. Little Boats is a lullaby dedicated to our good friend Jocelyn Dueck as she awaits the arrival of her first child; The Bard of Armagh is dedicated to our dear ones, the godmothers of our son Atticus, Elaine Valby and Paula Kimper; The set as a whole is dedicated to Bernie and Gilda A. Lyons, in appreciation of the many ways in which they show us how to love. —G.L./DH

The Praties (*Pronounced "pray-tees", this is the Irish word for potatoes.)
Oh the praties* they grow small over here, over here,
Oh the praties they grow small over here.
Oh the praties they grow small and we dig them in the fall,
and we eat them coats and all, over here, over here.

Oh I wish that we were geese, night and morn, night and morn,
Oh I that we were geese, night and morn.
Oh I wish that we were geese and could live our lives in peace
Till the hour of our re-lease, eating corn, eating corn.

Oh we're down in-to the dust over here, over here,
Oh we're down in-to the dust over here.
Oh we're down in-to the dust but the Lord in whom we trust
will re-pay us crumb for crust, over here, over here.

The Bard of Armagh
Oh list' to the lay of a poor Irish harper
and scorn not the string of his old withered hands,
but remember those fingers they once could move sharper
to raise up the strains of his dear native land.

It was long be-fore shamrock, dear isle's lovely emblem,
Was crushed in its beauty by the Saxon lion's paw;
And the pretty colleens all a-round me would gather,
to call Phelem Brady the Bard of Armagh.

How I love to muse on the days of my childhood,
Though four score and three years have fled by them;
It's king's sweet reflect-ion that every young joy,
For merry hearted boys make the best of old men.

In truth, I have wandered this wide world over,
Yet Ireland's my home and a dwelling for me;
And, oh, let the turf that my old bones shall cover,
Be cut from the land that is trod by the free.

And when Sergeant Death embraces me, lulls me to sleep,
by the side of my Kathleen, my dear pride, oh place me,
then forget Phelem Brady the Bard of Armagh.
Forget Phelem Brady, the Bard of Armagh.

Little Boats
Little boats rock on billows of blue,
Little birds rock up on tree tops too,
Rock-a-by baby, baloo, baloo, rock-a-by baby, baloo, baloo!

Boats sail away to countries new
And birds will be crossing the billows of blue.
Rock-a-by baby, baloo, baloo, rock-a-by baby, baloo, baloo!

Troubles are many, pleasures are few,
But I have a treasure while I have you.
Rock-a-by baby, baloo, baloo, rock-a-by baby, baloo, baloo!

The Parting Glass
Oh all the money that e'er I had, I spent it in good company,
And all the harm that e'er I done, alas it was to none but me,
And all I've lost for want of wit to mem'ry now I can't recall;
So fill to me this parting glass, Good night and joy be with you all.

If I had money enough to spend, And leisure time to sit awhile,
There is a fair maid in this town, Who sorely has my heart beguiled,
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips, I own, she has my heart in thrall,
So fill to me this parting glass, Good night, And joy be with you all.

Oh all the comrades e'er I had, They are sorry for my going away,
and all the sweethearts e'er I had, They'd wished me one more day to stay.
But since it falls unto my lot That I should rise and you should not,
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call, Good-night and joy be with you all.

Danny Boy
Oh Danny Boy the pipes, the pipes are calling,
From glen to glen and down the mountainside.
The summer's gone and all the roses falling
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow.
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow.
Oh Danny Boy, Oh Danny Boy, I love you so.

And when ye come and all the flowers are dying,
If I am dead, as dead I well may be,
You'll come and find the place where I am lying,
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.
And I shall hear tho' soft you tread above me.
And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be
If you will bend and tell me that you love me,
Then I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.

ABOUT THE ARTISTS
Jocelyn Dueck is a member of the Phoenix Players. To read her biography, please click [here].

Gilda Lyons is a member of the Phoenix Players. To read her biography, please click [here].

Elaine Valby is a member of the Phoenix Players. To read her biography, please click [here].

Roger Zahab is a member of the Phoenix Players. To read his biography, please click [here].

Daron Hagen is a member of the Phoenix Players. To read his biography, please click [here].

Paula Kimper is a member of the Phoenix Players. To read her biography, please click [here].

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