Studio Series

French Music Festival

Tuesday, April 18, 2017, at 8pm Lagerquist Concert Hall, Mary Baker Russell Music Center

Pacific Lutheran University School of Arts and Communication / Department of Music presents

Studio Series

French Music Festival Featuring the students of Jane Harty, Oksana Ezhokina, Jennifer Rhyne, LeeAnne Campos, and Richard Treat

Tuesday, April 18, 2017, at 8pm Lagerquist Concert Hall, Mary Baker Russell Music Center

Welcome to Lagerquist Concert Hall. Please disable the audible signal on all watches, pagers and cellular phones for the duration of the concert. Use of cameras, recording equipment and all digital devices is not permitted in the concert hall.

PROGRAM

En bateau...... Claude (1862-1918) from Petit Suite Ciara Flanery Nick de los Santos

Minuet ...... from Sarah Hoenig

La plus que lente ...... Claude Debussy Julie Chu

Reflets dans l'eau ...... Claude Debussy from , Book I Christopher Warren

Jardins sous la pluie ...... Claude Debussy from Zhichu Ren

Brouillards ...... Claude Debussy from Preludes, Book II Cat Kidd

Les collines d’Anacapri ...... Claude Debussy from Preludes, Book I Rachel Sandell

Des pas sur la neige ...... Claude Debussy Ce qu’a vu le vent d’ouest from Preludes, Book I Lucas Larreau

Pour invoquer Pan ...... Claude Debussy Pour que la nuit soit propice from Epigraphes antiques Christopher Warren Rachel Sandell

Novelette No. 3 in E Minor ...... Francis Poulenc (1899-1963) Chris Boe

Chansons madecasses ...... Maurice Ravel (1875-1937) Nahandove Aoua Il est doux Sarah Martin, soprano Torsen Necessary, flute Kaitlynn Turner, cello Jennifer Matson, piano

Texts

Nahandove The whites promised this, and yet Nahandove, o beautiful Nahandove! they made war preparations. The bird of night has begun its cries. A menacing fort was raised The full moon shines on my head and thunder was made captive and the dew moistens my hair. in the mouth of bronze cannons. Now is the hour, can you stay? Their priests wanted us to praise Nahandove, o beautiful Nahandove! a God that we didn’t know. They spoke friendly of obedience The bed of leaves is prepared and slavery: we prefer death! I have strewn it with flowers The carnage was long and terrible and herbs fragrant, worthy of your charms. but, despite the lighting that they vomited Nahandove! O beautiful Nahandove! crushing armies in their entirety, they were all exterminated. She comes. Aoua! Aoua! Do not trust the whites. I recognize the rapid breathing given to one walking quickly. We have seen the new tyrants I hear the rustle of the cloth stronger and more numerous wrapped around her. pitching their tents on the shore. It’s she, it’s she, it’s she! Heaven has fought for us calling It’s Nahandove, beautiful Nahandove! the rain, tempests and poisoned winds. The whites are no more, while we live! O, catch your breath my young one And we live free. and rest on my knees. Aoua! Aoua! Do not trust the whites Your gaze is enchanting and inhabitants of the shore. the motion of your breast is deliciously alive under my hand pressing against it! Il est doux de se coucher You smile, Nahandove, It is sweet to lie down, in the heat O beautiful Nahandove! under a leafy tree, and to await the cool wind of evening. Your kisses penetrate down to my soul. Women approach. Your caresses burn all my senses. Stop! Or I will die. While I rest here, under a leafy tree, Can one die of exquisite pleasure? my ear is filled with your accents drawled; Nahandove, o beautiful Nahandove. repeat the song of the young girl who sang while braiding her hair, Pleasure passes like a lighting flash or when she chased away and your sweet breathing weakens. the greedy birds by the rice field. Your eyes moisten and they close again. Your head bends gently The song is pleasing to my soul; and rapture fades into languor. the dancing is for me Never were you so beautiful. almost as sweet as a kiss. Nahandove, o beautiful Nahandove! Let your steps be slow, intimating the attitude of pleasure and the abandon of ecstasy. You depart and I will languish in regret and desire until evening. You will return this evening. The breeze of evening rises; the moon begins to shine through Nahandove, o beautiful Nahandove! the trees of the mountains. Go, and prepare the evening meal. Aoua! Méfiez-vous des blancs Aoua! Aoua! Do not trust the whites, inhabitants of the shore!

In the time of our fathers the whites landed on this island. One of them said, “Here is the land, Let your women cultivate it.

Be just, be good and become our brothers.”