Cygnus @ New York City’s floating concert hall
Program features preview of Mario Davidovsky's new Ladino Songs, with Harold Meltzer's Pulitzer-Prize finalist, Brion.
featured sopranos Elizabeth Farnum & Priscilla Smith
Mathew Greenbaum-- Vocalise* for Mario Davidovsky @ 75
David Claman-- gone for foreign II
Mohammed Fairouz-- ---- Three Fragments of Ibn Khafājah*
Frank Brickle -- Farai un vers (Occitan poet Guillem de Peitau)*
Mario Davidovsky-- Ladino Songs*
(scroll to bottom for song texts)
Rondo --- David Loeb
for the Cygnus Guitar Ensemble, consisting of guitarists from all over the
NYC metro area.
Rebeckah Driscoll-- Sisters Face West
Charles Wuorinen-- In Memoriam James Avery, for oboe with piano doublings
Ferruccio Busoni-- Berceuse élégiaque
Harold Meltzer-- Brion (2009 Pulitzer Prize finalist in music composition)
*new Cygnus commissions
Moored in Brooklyn just under the Brooklyn Bridge, Bargemusic presents great music up to five days a week, every week of the year. Walk across the gangplank of a renovated coffee barge into a “wonderfully intimate wood-paneled room with thrilling views of lower Manhattan and excellent acoustics.” Experience why critics call Bargemusic “the perfect chamber-music hall” and why artists say it is “unlike any other place in the world to perform.”
Bargemusic info: calendar of concerts, info about reservations, and how to get to Bargemusic. Read about our 30th anniversary, and hear and watch audio & video features. Let us help you plan your special event at Bargemusic. Call for information about our concert schedule, reservations or rentals: 718.624.2083 or 718.624.4061.
Davidovsky's Ladino Songs-- For books that preserve Ladino language and culture:
and the vessels of cinnamon
I would stain myself entirely
To save my banner
If the sea was milk
I would become a fisherman
I would fish my sorrows
With loving words
On the sea there is a tower
On the tower there is a windo
On the window there is a maiden
Who loves the sailors
Give me your hand (my) dove
To climb to your nest
Unlucky you sleep alone
I am coming to sleep with you.
The captive is coming
With all the captives (women)
is the white girl
It was not Quite down
When the white girl
Sang her sorrows
Oh! what green fields
Fileds of olive trees
Where my mohter Gracia
Washed and syated
Oh!, what white tombstones
Tombs of our ancestors
I pass over them
Like a bird on its flight.
Brickle's setting of Guillem de Peitau's http://www.trobar.org/troubadours/coms_de_peiteu/guilhen_de_peiteu_04.php">Farai un vers
Vers: Farai un vers de dreyt nien, Guillem Comte de Peitou
Gonna make a song of pure nothing
not of me or other men,
nor of love nor joys above,
or anything worse;
dreamed it nodding while out plodding--
on a horse!
Can't tell the day that I was born,
but I'm not happy or forlorn,
my heart's not hid nor on my sleeve--
no chance for change,
since that fight with a witch one night
on a mountain range!
Don't know when I get to bed,
or when I wake if no one's said,
because my heart's been torn apart
by a mortal blow;
I hold this house not worth a mouse,
by Saint Marsau!
I am so sick it's death, I fear,
and all I know is what I hear:
my only thought's to find a doc--
don't know a person;
he'll earn his fee if he cures me,
not if I worsen!
Had a girlfriend, don't know who,
never seen her--think that's true?
She doesn't please or cause me pain,
but there's no sweat:
no Frank or Norman's ever been
in my house yet!
Never seen her--my love's strong;
I've not been righted nor been wronged;
haven't met her--all the better!
I'm chicken feed . . .
and I know a prettier doe,
worth more indeed!
I've made a verse on "Don't-Know-Who":
by someone else I'll send it through,
who'll send it on by another one
to Anjau for me,
so she might from the locks on her jewelry box
send the counter key!
Three Fragments of Ibn Khafājah
His praises rang in song akin to those of the doves
that carried his qualitites instead of necklaces
We saw him in the likeness of the image of Joseph
We saw him in the likeness of the majesty of Solomon
His cloak enshrouded him as a page of temptation
Of which we read his face as its addressing line
His love is my religion and his dwelling my temple
Seeing him is my pilgrimage and remembering him my scripture
In a night's darkness which is a tender face
And its breeze is a pleasant perfume
So the moisture of its dew can be captured through sipping
And the lightninc of its lips can be almost kissed
-fragments excerpted by Magda Nowaihi
-tralated from Arabidc by Mohammed Fairouz
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