Acknowledgments I have had the pleasure of counting John Moriarty Websites: Animal Songs Bestiaries in English, French, & German among my friends for nearly 40 years and wish to Stephen Swanson, baritone thank him for his help in preparing this recording. www.stephenswansonbaritone.com One of the joys of working for a major research David Gompper, piano institution is having colleagues who are willing http://davidgompper.com/ and able to help when my personal expertise will not suffice. Thanks to Downing Thomas for his Producer: Stephen Swanson translations of the Renard poems in this booklet. Recording Engineer: Bruce Gigax —Stephen Swanson Assistant Engineer: Reed Wheeler Recording Location: Audio Recording Ciardi, John, An Alphabestiary, Philadelphia, Studio, Bentleyville, Ohio J. B. Lippincott, 1966. Recording Dates: August 2-4, 2011 Gompper, David, The Animals, Iowa City, Liner Notes: Marilyn Swanson Edzart Music Publications, 2009. Illustrations © 2012 by Claudia McGehee Ravel, Maurice, Songs, 1896-1914, Funded in part by a grant from edited by Arbie Orenstein, New York, Dover, 1990. the Arts & Humanities Initiative Reger, Max, Sämtliche Werke, Band 33, edited by at The University of Iowa, Fritz Stein, Wiesbaden, Breitkopf & Härtel, 1959. The University of Iowa School of Music, The Songs of Michael Flanders & Donald Swann, and The University of Iowa College of London, Elm Tree Books and St George’s Press, 1977. Liberal Arts and Sciences

www.albanyrecords.com TROY1365 albany records u.s. 915 broadway, albany, ny 12207 tel: 518.436.8814 fax: 518.436.0643 albany records u.k. box 137, kendal, cumbria la8 0xd tel: 01539 824008 © 2012 Albany Records made in the usa DDD warning: copyright subsists in all recordings issued under this label. Stephen Swanson, baritone David Gompper, Piano 1 I. Le Paon 1 I. The Peacock Fablers have always known that every animal is a Il va sûrement se marier aujourd’hui. He will surely marry today. moral waiting to be identified. Watch any animal: Ce devait être pour hier. It was to be yesterday. En habit de gala, il était prêt. He was ready, in full evening dress. before long it will let you know something about Il n’attendait que sa fiancée. He was only waiting for his fiancee. Elle n’est pas venue. She did not come. mankind. It works the other way, too: watch any human being Elle ne peut tarder. She cannot be late. Glorieux, il se promène avec une allure de Glorious, he walks with the look of an long enough and he will let you know something about which prince indien Indian prince animal he might have been, given half a chance. et porte sur lui les riches présents d’usage. and carries on him the customary riches. L’amour avive l’éclat de ses couleurs Love enlivens the brilliance of his colors et son aigrette tremble comme une lyre. and his crest trembles like a lyre. —John Ciardi, An Alphabestiary La fiancée n’arrive pas. The fiancee does not come. Il monte au haut du toit et regarde du côté He climbs on the roof and looks toward du soleil. the sun. Il jette son cri diabolique: Léon! Léon! He releases his diabolical cry: Leon! Leon! Histoires naturelles (1906) C’est ainsi qu’il appelle sa fiancée. Thus he calls his fiancee. Words by Jules Renard (1864–1910) Il ne voit rien venir et personne ne répond. He sees nothing come and hears no one reply. Music by Maurice Ravel (1875–1937) Les volailles habituées ne lèvent même The fowl, blasé, do not even raise their heads. point la tête. In 1895, French author Jules Renard published the first 45 of his prose poems Histoires Elles sont lasses de l’admirer. They are tired of admiring him. naturelles (Nature Stories). The 1899 deluxe edition, illustrated by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Il redescend dans la cour, He goes back down to the courtyard, was dedicated to the great French actor Lucien Guitry, who had recited the vignettes about si sûr d’être beau so sure of his beauty animals at one of Sarah Bernhardt’s Saturday poetry readings in Paris. qu’il est incapable de rancune. that he is incapable of holding a grudge. In setting five of Renard’s poems to music, composer Maurice Ravel departed from Son mariage sera pour demain. His marriage will be tomorrow. traditional French art song style by experimenting with new methods of setting text. Ravel told Et, ne sachant que faire du reste de la journée, So, not knowing what to do with the rest of the day, Renard that he wanted to literally interpret the words through his music. Ravel and soprano il se dirige vers le perron. he moves toward the staircase. Jane Bathori premiered the song cycle at the Société Nationale de Musique in Paris on Il gravit les marches, He mounts the steps January 12, 1907. comme des marches de temple, as he would the steps of a temple, Jules Renard wrote his animal miniatures as prose poems. In order to help the listener d’un pas officiel. with an official air. follow the texts and parallel translations, the poems are presented here with line breaks that Il relève sa robe à queue toute lourde des yeux He raises his robe, his train so heavy with eyes follow the structure of Ravel’s setting. qui n’ont pu se détacher d’elle. that could not tear themselves away. Il répète encore une fois la cérémonie. He repeats yet again the ceremony. 2 II. Le Grillon 2 II. The Cricket 3 III. Le Cygne 3 III. The Swan C’est l’heure où, las d’errer, It is the hour when, tired of wandering, Il glisse sur le bassin, He glides on the pond, l’insecte nègre revient de promenade the dark insect returns from its walk comme un traîneau blanc, like a white sleigh, et répare avec soin le désordre de son domaine. and carefully repairs the disorder of his estate. de nuage en nuage. from cloud to cloud. D’abord il ratisse ses étroites allées de sable. First he rakes its narrow paths of sand. Car il n’a faim que des nuages floconneux For he is only hungry for the powdery clouds Il fait du bran de scie He makes sawdust qu’il voit naître, bouger, that he sees being born, moving, qu’il écarte au seuil de sa retraite. which he pushes to the doorway of his retreat. et se perdre dans l’eau. and disappearing into the water. Il lime la racine de cette grande herbe He files down the root of the tall grass, C’est l’un d’eux qu’il désire. It is one of them that he desires. propre à le harceler. which always bothers him. Il le vise du bec, He aims with his beak, Il se repose. He rests. et il plonge tout à coup son col vêtu de neige. and suddenly he dives, his neck dressed in snow. Puis il remonte sa minuscule montre. Then he winds his minuscule watch. Puis, tel un bras de femme sort d’une manche, Then, as a woman’s arm emerges from a sleeve, A-t-il fini? Est-elle cassée? Has he finished? Is it broken? il le retire. he withdraws. Il se repose encore un peu. He rests a little more. Il n’a rien. He has nothing. Il rentre chez lui et ferme sa porte. He goes home and closes his door. Il regarde: les nuages effarouchés ont disparu. He looks: the frightened clouds have disappeared. Longtemps il tourne sa clef dans Slowly, he turns the key in its Il ne reste qu’un instant désabusé, He remains disenchanted only an instant, la serrure délicate. delicate lock. car les nuages tardent peu à revenir, for the clouds soon return, Et il écoute: Point d’alarme dehors. and he listens: No alarm outside. et, là-bas, où meurent les ondulations de l’eau, and, below, where the undulations of the water die, Mais il ne se trouve pas en sûreté. But he does not feel safe. en voici un qui se reforme. here is one that is taking shape again. Et comme par une chaînette dont la poulie grince, And as if on a chain whose pulley creaks, Doucement, sur son léger coussin de plumes, Gently, on his light pillow of feathers, il descend jusqu’au fond de la terre. he descends into the depths of the earth. le cygne rame et s’approche… the swan creeps up and draws near… On n’entend plus rien. There is not a sound. Il s’épuise à pêcher de vains reflets, He exhausts himself fishing for empty reflections, Dans le campagne muette, In the mute countryside, et peut-être qu’il mourra victime de cette illusion, and maybe he will die, victim of this illusion, les peupliers se dressent comme des doigts en l’air the poplars stand up like fingers in the air avant d’attraper un seul morceau de nuage. before catching a single bit of cloud. et désignent la lune. and point to the moon. Mais qu’est-ce que je dis? But what am I saying? Chaque fois qu’il plonge, Each time he dives il fouille du bec la vase nourrissante he searches through the nourishing silt with his beak et ramène un ver. and brings back a worm. Il engraisse comme une oie. He is getting fat like a goose. 4 IV. Le Martin-Pêcheur 4 IV. The Kingfisher peut-être parce qu’elle s’imagine toujours maybe because she always imagines Ça n’a pas mordu, ce soir, They’re not biting this evening, qu’on se moque de sa taille, that they are mocking her size, mais je rapporte une rare émotion. but I’m bringing back a rare emotion. de son crâne chauve her bald head, Comme je tenais ma perche de ligne tendue, As I was holding my fishing pole at the ready et de sa queue basse. and her low tail. un martin-pêcheur est venu s’y poser. a kingfisher landed on it. Et elle ne cesse de jeter un cri discordant And she never ceases letting out a harsh cry Nous n’avons pas d’oiseau plus éclatant. There is no more radiant bird. qui perce l’air comme une pointe. that pierces the air like a point. Il semblait une grosse fleur bleue It was like a large blue flower Parfois elle quitte la cour Sometimes she leaves the courtyard au bout d’une longue tige. at the end of a long stem. et disparaît. and disappears. La perche pliait sous le poids. The pole bent under the weight. Elle laisse aux volailles pacifiques She leaves the peaceful fowl, Je ne respirais plus, I could no longer breathe, un moment de répit. a moment of respite. tout fier d’être pris pour un arbre so proud to be taken for a tree Mais elle revient plus turbulente et plus criarde. But she returns louder and more disruptive. par un martin-pêcheur. by a kingfisher. Et, frénétique, elle se vautre par terre. And, frantic, she sprawls on the ground. Et je suis sûr qu’il ne s’est pas envolé de peur, And I am sure that it did not fly away from fear, Qu’a-t-elle donc? What’s her problem? mais qu’il a cru qu’il ne faisait que passer but that it thought it was only passing La sournoise fait une farce. She is playing a practical joke. d’une branche à une autre. from one branch to another. Elle est allée pondre son œuf à la campagne. She went to lay an egg in the countryside. Je peux le chercher si ça m’amuse. I could look for it if I wanted. Et elle se roule dans la poussière comme And she rolls in the dust like a hunchback. 5 V. La Pintade 5 V. The Guinea Fowl une bossue. C’est la bossue de ma cour. She’s the hunchback of my courtyard. English translations by Downing Thomas Elle ne rêve que plaies à cause de sa bosse. She only looks for trouble because of her hump. Les poules ne lui disent rien: The chickens don’t talk to her: Brusquement, elle se précipite et les harcèle. suddenly, she goes at them and pesters them. Puis elle baisse sa tête, Then she lowers her head, penche le corps, inclines her body, et, de toute la vitesse de ses pattes maigres, and, with all the speed her little claws can muster, elle court frapper, de son bec dur, she runs to strike with her hard beak juste au centre de la roue d’une dinde. right at the center of a turkey’s tail. Cette poseuse l’agaçait. That poseur was irritating her. Ainsi, la tête bleuie, Thus, her head blue, ses barbillons à vif, her barbs sharp, cocardière, elle rage du matin au soir. warlike, she rages from dawn to dusk. Elle se bat sans motif, She fights for no reason, Selections from Schlichte Weisen, op. 76 ein zierlich Menuett. in a delicate minuet. Words by Martin Boelitz (1874–1918), Victor Blüthgen (1844–1920), Ludwig Rafael, pseud. Und wißt ihr, wer mir das erzählt? And do you know who told me that? (1844–1919), and Ernst Ludwig Schellenberg (1883–1964) Das Kätzchen Griesegrau. The pussy cat Griesegrau. Music by Max Reger (1873–1916) Das hat von draußen zugeschaut, She had watched from outside, miau, miau, miau! meow, meow, meow! In 1903 and 1904 German composer Max Reger composed two sets of extremely difficult songs, after which his publisher asked for some lighter fare for the general public. Reger began to compose a collection of folksy songs, intended to be technically easy. 7 Nr. 51 Die fünf Hühnerchen (Victor Blüthgen) 7 No. 51 The Five Little Chicks His opus 76, Schlichte Weisen (Simple Tunes) is comprised of 60 songs in six sets. Set 5 Ich war mal in dem Dorfe, Once I was in the village (nos. 44-51), completed in 1910, is called “From the World of Children” and is dedicated da gab es einen Sturm, when there was a ruckus. to the Reger children, Christa and Lotti. Set 6 (nos. 52-60), composed in 1912, opens with da zankten, zankten sich fünf Hühnerchen There five chicks fought Reger’s famous “Mariä Wiegenlied” (Virgin’s Slumber Song) from which he earned the um einen Regenwurm. over one earthworm. highest royalties of all his compositions. Und als kein Wurm mehr war zu seh’n, And when there was no more worm to be seen, For the convenience of the listener, the texts of the nursery rhymes are presented here und als kein Wurm mehr war zu seh’n, and when there was no more worm to be seen, as they appear in the musical score rather than as they are printed in poetry books. da sagten alle: “Piep, piep, piep, piep, piep, they all said: “Peep, peep, peep, peep, peep, piep, piep, piep, piep, piep, piep!” peep, peep, peep, peep, peep, peep!” Da hatten die fünf Hühnerchen Then the five chicks were einander wieder lieb. friends again. 6 Nr. 48 Zwei Mäuschen (Martin Boelitz) 6 No. 48 Two Little Mice Es waren mal zwei Mäuschen Once upon a time there were two little mice ganz allein zu Haus, all alone at home. da krochen sie auf’s Fensterbrett They climbed onto the window sill 8 Nr. 55 Furchthäschen 8 No. 55 Scaredy-cat und lugten fein hinaus. and gazed outside. (Ernst Ludwig Schellenberg) Und als sie lang genug gelugt, And when they had looked long enough, Mutter, liebe Mutter, Mother, dear mother, hüpften sie herab und liefen they jumped down and ran komm rasch einmal her, come here quickly, um den Tisch herum, around the table, liebe Mutter, liebe Mutter, dear mother, dear mother, tripp trapp, tripp trapp, tripp trapp, tripp trapp, pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter ich fürcht’ mich so sehr, I’m so afraid, tripp trapp, tripp trapp, tripp trapp, tripp trapp, patter, pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter, ich fürcht’ mich so sehr, I’m so afraid, tripp trapp, trapp. pitter patter, patter. komm rasch einmal her! come here quickly! Und als sie müd’ vom Laufen war’n, And when they were tired of running, Mutter, liebe Mutter, Mother, dear mother, sprangen sie auf’s Bett they jumped up onto the bed ich hab ihr doch gar nichts getan, I really didn’t do anything at all to her, und tänzelten und schwänzelten, and danced around and swung their tails, und da sieht mich die Fliege so böse an, and there, the fly is looking so mean at me, und tänzelten und schwänzelten and danced around and swung their tails die Fliege so böse, so böse an. the fly so mean, so mean at me. 9 Nr. 56 Der Igel (Ernst Ludwig Schellenberg) 9 No. 56 The Hedgehog 11 Nr. 58 Mausefangen 11 No. 58 Catching Mice Der Igel, der Igel, The hedgehog, the hedgehog, (Ernst Ludwig Schellenberg) der ist ein schlimmer Mann, he’s a bad guy Eins, zwei, drei, One, two, three, der hat ‘nen groben Kittel who wears a coarse coat eins, zwei, drei, one, two, three, mit lauter Borsten dran; with nothing but bristles on it; was raschelt da im Heu? what’s rustling there in the hay? der Igel, der Igel, The hedgehog, the hedgehog, Willst du nicht das Mäuschen fangen? Don’t you want to catch the little mouse? der ist ein schlimmer Mann. he’s a bad guy. Willst du nicht das Mäuschen fangen? Don’t you want to catch the mouse? Und wer sich nicht dran stechen will, And anyone who doesn’t want to get pricked, Faß es an dem Schwanz, dem langen! Grab it by the tail, the long one! der fasse ihn nicht an. shouldn’t touch him. Vier, fünf, sechs, Four, five, six, vier, fünf, sechs, four, five, six, hei, hei, da läuft es weg! hey, there, it’s running away! 10 Nr. 57 Die Bienen (Ludwig Rafael) 10 No. 57 The Bees Ist ins Mauseloch entkommen, Escaped into the mouse hole. Kaum sind die ersten Blüten da, As soon as the first blossoms are there, hat sein Schwänzchen mitgenommen. Took his tail with him. sind auch die kleinen Bienen nah. the little bees are also nearby. Sie fliegen herum They fly around English translations by Marilyn Swanson mit sum sum sum! with a buzz, buzz, buzz! Sie schlüpfen hinein They slip inside im Sonnenschein. in the sunshine. Sie saugen den Seim They draw the nectar Selections from The Bestiary of Flanders & Swann: Songs and Verses about Animals und tragen ihn heim and carry it home Words by Michael Flanders (1922–1975) in ihr kleines Haus. to their little house. Music by Donald Swann (1923–1994) and Michael Flanders (“The Sloth”) Sie leben den Winter in Saus und Braus In winter they live it up von Blumenduft und Sonnenschein: from the aroma of flowers and from sunshine: Lyricist Michael Flanders and composer Donald Swann first collaborated as school students. O dürft ich doch ein Bienchen sein, Oh, if only I could be a bee, While studying at Oxford, they continued to write songs for established entertainers and o dürft ich doch ein Bienchen sein! oh, if only I could be a bee! musical revues in London. Their song about a hippopotamus was so popular that they created an entire bestiary. On New Year’s Eve 1956 they took the stage themselves, and their show At the Drop of a Hat played for over two years on London’s West End. From 1956 to 1967 Flanders and Swann took At the Drop of a Hat and its sequel, At the Drop of Another Hat, on tours to Scotland, the United States, Canada, Switzerland, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, Hong Kong and back to London. 12 The Warthog ‘No one ever wants to court a Warthog, But let us take the floor Drawn by that mellow solo The jungle was giving a party, Though a Warthog does her best; ’Cause I’m absolutely sure There I followed on my bike A post-hibernation ball, Her accessories are dazzling for a Warthog, That you’re a Warthog, To discover what these Armadillo The ballroom was crowded with waltzing gazelles, She is perfumed and daringly dressed. Just a Warthog, Lovers would be like: Gorillas and zebras and all. We know her these and those The sweetest little, But who is that animal almost in tears Are like Brigitte Bardot’s, Neatest little, ‘Oh my darling Armadillo Pretending to powder her nose? Her gown is just a scintillating sheath, Dearest and completest little How delightful it would be A poor little Warthog who sits by herself But she somehow fails to please Warthog … underneath!’ If for us these silver wedding bells In a pink satin dress with blue bows. ’Cause everybody sees would chime; Again she is nobody’s choice That she’s a Warthog, Let the orange blossom billow, And she sings in a sad little voice: Just a Warthog, 13 The Armadillo You need only say ‘I will’ – oh, She’s a Warthog underneath!’ I was taking compass bearings for the Be my darling Armadillo all the time.’ ‘No one ever wants to court a Warthog Ordnance Survey Though a Warthog does her best; Head hanging, she wanders away from the floor, By an Army Training Camp on Salisbury Plain; Then I saw them, in a hollow, by a yellow I’ve spent a lot of money for a Warthog, This Warthog whom nobody loves, I had packed up my theodolite, was calling muddy bank – I am kiss-proofed, and prettily dressed. Then stops in amazement, for there at the door it a day, One Armadillo singing … to an armour-plated I’ve lustre-rinsed my hair, Stands a gentleman Warthog impeccably When I heard a voice that sang a sad refrain: Tank! Dabbed perfume here and there, dressed Should I tell him? Gaunt and rusting, with the My gums were tinted when I brushed my teeth; In the act of removing his gloves; ‘Oh my darling Armadillo willow tree above, I’m young and in my prime His fine chiseled face seems to frown Let me tell you of my love, This – abandoned on manoeuvres – But a wallflower all the time As he looks her first up and then down. Listen to my Armadillo roundelay. is the object of your love! ’Cause I’m a Warthog, Be my fellow on my pillow Just a Warthog, ‘I fancy you must be a sort of Warthog, Underneath this weeping willow, I left him to his singing, I’m a Warthog underneath.’ Though for a Warthog you look a mess. Be my darling Armadillo all the day.’ Cycled home without a pause. That make-up’s far too heavy for a Warthog; Never tell a man the truth Take your partners for a Ladies Excuse Me! You could have chosen a more suitable dress. I was somewhat disconcerted by this About the one that he adores! Did you have to dye your hair? curious affair Excited and radiant she runs on the floor If that’s perfume, give me air! For a single Armadillo, you will own, To join the furore and fuss; I strongly disapprove of scarlet teeth; On Salisbury Plain, in summer, She taps on each shoulder and says, ‘Excuse me’, is comparatively rare And each couple replies, ‘Excuse us!’ And a pair of them is practically unknown. Then having no manners at all They sing as they dance round the hall: On the breeze that follows sunset What a frightful-looking beast – 15 The Sloth I could paint a Mona Lisa, I could hear that sad refrain Half an inch across at least – A Bradypus or Sloth am I, I could be another Caesar, Singing willow, willow, willow down It would frighten even Superman or Garth. I live a life of ease, Compose an oratorio that was sublime: the way, There’s contempt it can’t disguise Contented not to do or die The door’s not shut And I seem to hear it still. Oh, In the little beady eyes But idle as I please; On my genius but Vive l’amour, vive L’Armadillo! Of the spider sitting glowering in the bath. I have three toes on either foot I just don’t have the time! ‘Be my darling Armadillo all the day.’ Or half-a-doz on both; It ignores my every lunge With leaves and fruits and shoots to eat For days and days among the trees With the back-brush and the sponge; How sweet to be a Sloth. I sleep and dream and doze, 14 The Spider I have bombed it with ‘A Present from Penarth’; Just gently swaying in the breeze I have fought a grizzly bear, But it doesn’t mind at all – The world is such a cheerful place Suspended by my toes; Tracked a cobra to its lair, It just rolls into a ball When viewed from upside down; While eager beavers overhead Killed a crocodile who dared to cross my path; And simply goes on squatting in the bath … It makes a rise of every fall, Rush through the undergrowth, But the thing I really dread A smile of every frown; I watch the sky beneath my feet – When I’ve just got out of bed For hours we have been locked in endless I watch the fleeting flutter by How sweet to be a Sloth. Is to find that there’s a spider in the bath. struggle; Of butterfly or moth I have lured it to the deep end, by the drain; And think of all the things I’d try I’ve no fear of wasps or bees, At last I think I’ve washed it down the plug-’ole If I were not a Sloth. 16 The Wild Boar Mosquitos only tease, But here it comes a-crawling up the chain! If you hear a loud whoosh in the African Bush I rather like a cricket on the hearth; I could climb the very highest Himalayas, And an animal comes to the fore But my blood runs cold to meet Now it’s time for me to shave Be among the greatest ever tennis players, Who is basically Pig, but more hairy and big, In pyjamas and bare feet Though my nerves will not behave, Always win at chess or marry a princess or You will know you have met with a Boar! With a great big hairy spider in the bath. And there’s bound to be a fearful aftermath; Study hard and be an eminent professor, You are glued to the spot. Will he kill you or not? So before I cut my throat I could be a millionaire, play the clarinet, No need to have fears about that; I have faced a charging bull in Barcelona, I shall leave this final note: Travel everywhere, Now he’s made you stand fast and you’re I have dragged a mountain lioness from her cub, DRIVEN TO IT – BY THE SPIDER IN THE BATH! Learn to cook, catch a crook, cornered at last, I’ve restored a mad gorilla to its owner Win a war, then write a book about it, All he wants is a Nice Little Chat. But I don’t dare to face that Tub … But don’t be misled. Soon you’ll wish you were dead, That instead he’d been after your gore – For Oh! Oh! What a Bore he is, What a thundering, thumping Boar! In monotonous grunts he will tell you of hunts The Warthog, The Armadillo, The Spider, The The Animals (2009), nine songs for baritone and piano Where for days he deluded the Field; Sloth & The Wild Boar reproduced by permis- Words by Marvin Bell (b. 1937) He will tell you his sow should be farrowing now sion of the The Estates of Flanders & Swann Music by David Gompper (b. 1954) And enlarge on her annual yield; He will say with an air that for brushing the hair Written during the summer of 2009, The Animals is a cycle of nine songs dedicated to His bristle’s the elegant thing, Stephen Swanson, who premiered them in October of that year. Poet Marvin Bell, University And proudly confide they are after his hide of Iowa Professor Emeritus and Iowa’s first Poet Laureate (2000–2004), created the texts For no less a man than a King! specifically for this cycle. The music not only takes inspiration from the Ravel and Poulenc animal songs, but is also rooted in the American tradition: Gershwin’s Tin Pan Alley, and more Then a joke he will try as you stifle a sigh recently the songs of William Bolcom. The complete score of The Animals can be found at: And deny that you’ve heard it before, http://davidgompper.com/animals.html. Thinking Oh! Oh! What a Bore he is, What a thundering, thumping Boar! We can judge the heart of a man by his treatment of animals. As you laugh at his joke (ha-ha-ha) ‘I’m a popular bloke,’ —Immanuel Kant He will think, when you’re ready to burst! Then ‘Hello there!’ he’ll cry to each poor passer-by – The ones that have not seen him first! 17 I. Rooster Hubris I sing the sounds found in no book. For on sight of the beast, they will run to the east My master is the sun. He has appointed I am the cock-a-doodle-do. And the north and the west and the south, me to tell him you are well. I am a force of nature, an industrious lover. And long for the day when his head’s on a tray He has asked me to tell him you are up. I am the song of life. With a lemon to stop up his mouth! Shall I? Shall I? What if today I wait I am, I am, I am, and I do. Listen for me. Oh, to hear you sing? Because I, the rooster, listen to me. I do not listen to … They shout as they run: ‘He’s an excellent son have risen, now your spirit mounts the day. I do not listen to you. And a wonderful fellow, we’re sure! I am the hero of warfare I do not listen to you. But Oh! Oh! What a Bore he is, and a true hero of the erotic. What a thundering, thumping, Down in the dumping Thumping Boar!’ 18 II. American Buffalo 19 III. Stork I am an animal, too, because I am you. 21 V. Polar Bear How many we were, American buffalo. We sold the stork a story. Do you have feelings for me? Look into the white to see me. How large we are, each and all, how many We gave the stork its name. You must have feelings for me. I am the loneliness of a polar bear, we were. Because I am you. as the ice melts beneath me. So very many, too many to count, Its voice, a clattering of bills. Because I am you, too. I am the far beauty in an aviator’s eyes, stampeded to the buffalo jump. We traced the sweep of its wings. Because I am you. but he is not beautiful to me. We were made to be your heavy coats. I am you, too. Look down here, where I walk We were the meat, we were the leather. We could see, in the rookery of the storks, I am an animal, too. in the vast, vacant air that surrounds me. We were the sinew for bows. We were the in colonies of pelican and of crane, Because I am you, too. I scare the Finnish countryside. grease. in the short flight of parent after parent The spirit of your forefathers is in me, We made the dung for your fires. to their chicks, outflying the night, I am the horse of the deep purple, walking alone in the unframed cold, We were the hooves turned into glue. how these birds, so starkly ungainly on land, I am the horse sense of your flesh. a bit seen but, in the main, this unseen me. We were the last of the marrow in hard can hold up such beauty in the air, Can you feel my unshod hooves? I have not seen the beauty that you see. times, too. such beauty in the air. I can feel your hand calming me. I have not seen your love or care of me. We wallowed to groom. We huddled in herds. Oh, hear me whinny and neigh. If ever you truly see me, you will draw We thundered, and we frightened the birds. Shall I live inside you all day? me even larger. I patrol the very top We fought off the wolves and the grizzlies. 20 IV. Charley Horse Am I not real if I feel what you feel? of a dying planet. I am not eternal. We ran through the chutes, away from men, I am the dead leg, the granddaddy, I am dying, because I am not you. thundering to get free. Still, I am the corked thigh. Does it hurt? You have your plow horses, your thoroughbreds. Because I am me. we gave you clothing, we gave you heat. Oh horse that excels in warfare, I am not thee. Why, then, are there sawhorses? We gave our hides to shelter. Oh peaceful beasts of burden, I am not thee, Why are there gift horses, We were too good to you. not thee. if not to enlarge the bestiary? 22 VI. Camel We gave you what to eat. I trot inside your quadriceps. I snort. You moan. I am more than a camel. I am a mountain. In the storybooks, we stood until I canter up and down. Oh, I prance when Confess that you gave birth to me. Do you see in me, humped, we were hollow bodies and brittle bones. you wince. I am a tiny piece of your bad luck. your stooped parent? Do I not kneel, then rise Then we collapsed from within. Look for I am alive within you. Call me Chuck. to shoulder your burdens, and your dreams? our kind at the top of the Medicine Wheel. Once, we had a future that is not the future we have. Still, we have a past that will remain our past. We jumped our heavy bodies over the cliffs. We have learned not to run. 23 VII. Vulture 24 VIII. Peacock While you were banding the egrets, 25 IX. Coda We gave you your first flute. While you were listening to the whale, and while you were tracking the shark out to sea, How extra-ordinary, If you would sing of life, and while you were teaching the chimpanzee and training the dolphin to kiss you, who walk or swim or fly, let it be of life and death. to speak, and queuing the lions to act, and the seals all of us, glorious. and training the parrot to ape you, to juggle, We peacocks do not lie. We gave you a wing bone and running the horse in a circle, and the rat we cried out, all on our own: peacocks! Listen at dawn or dusk. that bore five holes for your breath. in a maze, peacocks! peacocks! We, too, can speak. We can sing. Oh, if you would sing of life, we cried out, all on our own: peacocks! Inside each of us was a person, shrieking. Like the whale, let it be of life and death. peacocks! peacocks! Inside each of us was the beauty we unfolded like the chimp and the mynah, Inside each of us was a person, shrieking. in feathers. like the rooster, like the buffalo, We who eat carrion, Inside each of us was the beauty we unfolded like the horse, the stork, the camel, who eat the carcasses of buffalo, in feathers. Do you like the queenly apparitions that we are? like the high vultures you fear, and of stork and peacock, Do you like the kingly apparitions that we are? we are near. And we are talking, too. we who dine on raw leftovers, Fanned out, the peacock has eyes that do Do we not make your world more beautiful? We are talking, each of us talking, to you, to you. we are fit to make music, too. not see. And does our beauty not terrify you? Yes, we are talking to you. It tiptoes inside a shimmer. In an iridescence. We have more than one effect on you. We are talking, yes, we are talking to you. Oh, sing of it. Celebrate the one Regal dragons who scream, they also squeak We have two. To you, we are talking to you. who will be there when you need me. and bray. I’ll be there. I’ll be there, Their terrible beauty gives them away. And while you were listening to the whale, I will be there when you need me. Listen how they muster loudly. and while you were teaching the chimpanzee When life is over, I’ll be there, I’ll be there. They blare like taxis. to speak, They attack like trombones. and training the parrot to ape you, They squawk. They screech. They strut. and running the horse in a circle, and the rat They are land lovers but can fly. in a maze, They have a sound for whatever they feel. we cried out, all on our own: peacocks! peacocks! peacocks! Inside each of us was a person, shrieking. Inside each of us was the beauty we unfolded in feathers. The Performers David Gompper has lived and worked professionally as a pianist, a conductor, a composer, and a pedagogue in New York, San Diego, London, Nigeria, Michigan, Texas, and Iowa. He Stephen Swanson is a concert and opera singer, a teacher of singing, and opera stage studied at the Royal College of Music in London with Jeremy Dale Roberts, Humphrey Searle, director. He earned degrees from North Park College and Northwestern University and served and Phyllis Sellick. After teaching in Nigeria, he received his doctorate at the University of a two-year American Guild of Musical Artists apprenticeship with the Wolf Trap Company. Michigan, taught at the University of Texas, Arlington, and since 1991 has been Professor of After an internship at the International Opera Studio of the Zurich Opera, Swanson sang in Composition and Director of the Center for New Music at The University of Iowa. In 2002– opera houses in Switzerland, Germany, Austria, and the Netherlands for nineteen years. Since 2003 Gompper was in Russia as a Fulbright Scholar, teaching, performing, and conducting 1994, he has been Professor of Voice at The University of Iowa. at the Moscow Conservatory. In 2009 he received an Academy Award from the American An extremely versatile performer, Swanson sings works from the Baroque to the Academy of Arts and Letters in New York City. avant-garde as well as standard baritone concert repertoire, such as Brahms’ Ein deutsches Gompper’s compositions are performed widely, with several receiving their premier Requiem, Mendelssohn’s Elijah, and his signature piece, Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana. In 2012 in London’s Wigmore Hall, others at the Moscow Conservatory and at the ZKM Institute he added the 100th opera/operetta/musical role to his repertoire. for Music and Acoustics in Karlsruhe, Germany. He actively collaborates as a pianist and Swanson has performed with many renowned conductors including concerts under composer with violinist Wolfgang David who recorded his Violin Concerto, published in Sir Georg Solti, Rafael Frübeck de Burgos, Margaret Hillis, and Vance George, and operas 2011 by Naxos (8.559637). Gompper is also recorded on the Capstone, the Centaur, and under Giuseppe Patanè, Nello Santi and Ferdinand Leitner. He has toured extensively in the Albany labels. For additional information, including a complete discography, consult North America and Europe, singing the title role in Victor Ullmann’s Der Kaiser von Atlantis. Gompper’s website: http://davidgompper.com. This historical reconstruction of the original orchestration and vocal score was recorded and produced by Studio Matouš and ARBOS, Company for Music and Theater (Austria), MK022-2 631. For a complete repertoire list, photo archives, and live performance excerpts, see: www.stephenswansonbaritone.com. From 2004 to 2009, Stephen Swanson and David Gompper performed their recital Was my brother in the battle? Songs of War at college and university campuses across the United States, concluding with five performances at the Minnesota Fringe Festival. A concert of songs about the individuals involved in America’s historic military conflicts, their friends, and their families – harsh, ironic, funny, patriotic, poignant, disturbing – images of America at war, that program is available in compact disc format from Albany Records (TROY1056).