The Curtis Institute of Music 2008–09 Student Recital Series
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The Curtis Institute of Music 2008–09 Student Recital Series Vocal Studies Department Recital Sunday, December 14 at 3 p.m. Field Concert Hall Performers Joseph Barron, from Pittsburgh, is a student of W. Stephen Smith, adjunct faculty, and entered Curtis in 2008. Allen Boxer, from Cincinnati, is a student of Marlena Kleinman Malas and entered Curtis in 2005. Brandon Cedel, from Hershey, Pa., is a student of Marlena Kleinman Malas and entered Curtis in 2006. Jason Coffey, from Allendale, Mich., is a student of Joan Patenaude-Yarnell and entered Curtis in 2007. Tammy Coil, from Centennial, Colo., is a student of Marlena Kleinman Malas and entered Curtis in 2006. Adrian Kramer, from Guelph, Ontario, is a student of Marlena Kleinman Malas and entered Curtis in 2006. Kirsten MacKinnon, from Burnaby, British Columbia, is a student of Patricia McCaffrey, adjunct faculty, and entered Curtis in 2008. Marquita Raley, from Washington, D.C., is a student of Marlena Kleinman Malas and entered Curtis in 2007. Kevin Ray, from Cornwall, N.Y., is a student of Mark Oswald, adjunct faculty, and entered Curtis in 2007. Elizabeth Reiter, from Chicago, is a student of Marlena Kleinman Malas and entered Curtis in 2008. Shir Rozzen, from Karmey-Yosef, Israel, is a student of Lorraine Nubar, adjunct faculty, and entered Curtis in 2008. Sarah Shafer, from State College, Pa., is a student of Joan Patenaude-Yarnell and entered Curtis in 2006. Diego Silva, from Mexico City, is a student of Marlena Kleinman Malas and entered Curtis in 2008. Joshua Stewart, from New Orleans, is a student of Joan Patenaude-Yarnell and entered Curtis in 2005. David Moody, opera and voice coach Susan Nowicki, opera and voice coach “Lascia ch’io pianga” (“Let me weep”) from Rinaldo Music by George Frederic Handel ~ Text by Giacomo Rossi Armida dispietata! Colla forza d’abisso Cruel Armida! With a hellish force Rapimmi al caro ciel di miei contenti You capture me from the dear heaven of my happiness E qui con duolo eterno viva mi tieni in tormentoso Inferno And hold me here in eternal sadness and infernal torment Signor ! Ah ! per pietà lasciami piangere. Lord! Ah! For mercy let me weep. Lascia ch’io pianga Let me weep mia cruda sorte, my cruel fate, e che sospiri la libertà. and let me sigh for liberty. Il duolo infranga queste ritorte May sorrow break these chains de’ miei martiri sol per pietà. Of my sufferings, for pity’s sake. Translation from http://en.wikipedia.org “Sorge infausta una procella” (“An inauspicious tempest rises”) from Orlando Music by George Frederic Handel ~ Text by Carlo Sigismondo Capece Sorge infausta una procella An inauspicious tempest rises che oscurar fa il cielo e il mare and darkens the sky and the sea sorge fausta poi la stella after this good star rises che ogni cor ne fà goder. and makes each heart happy. Può talor il forte errare Sometimes the hero can err ma risorto dall’errore but, after the mistake, quel che pria gli dié dolore he feels a great joy cusa immenso il suo piacer. for what was before his great sorrow. Translation by Ugo Berardi from www.aria-database.com Joan’s Aria from Maid of Orleans Music and text by Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky Yes, the time has come. I must yield to a call from the heavens. But why do I feel fearful? My heart is throbbing painfully. Farewell to the hills and the fields; farewell to the peaceful lot. You shall never see Joan again; forever she says farewell. Dear woods and meadows, you must live on and bloom without me. Cool grotto and murmuring streams, I leave you forever and shall never return. I must leave all that is dear to me. My flocks, without a shepherdess you must go on. By fate, I must be a shepherdess to another flock, tormented by a fierce war. So it is decided by a higher power. O God, to You I open my sad and tormented heart. Farewell. Translation by Ghenady Meirson “Un gitano sin su honor” (“A gypsy without his honor”) from Luna Music and text by José María Cano Dime que no es verdad Tell me that it is not true. Dime que lo que están viendo mis ojos Tell me that what my eyes are watching no es más que un mal sueño is no more than a bad dream, que de tanto quererte that because of loving you so much me he vuelto loco I became crazy. Y un gitano sin su honor And a gypsy without his honor es la cosa más peor is the worst thing. Fue mi mare quien me lo enseñó It was my mother who taught me this, cuando vio que ya iba a echar a andar when she saw that I was almost walking, pa’ que lo aprendiese antes que a hablar for me to learn it before speaking: Que un gitano deshonrao That a dishonored gypsy es un mosto repuntao is just a squashed grape. no lo quiere nadie Nobody wants it ni pa’ hacer vinagre even to make vinegar— vino dulce que ha amargao. sweet wine that got bitter. Y un gitano sin su honor And a gypsy without his honor es la cosa mas peor is the worst thing. que al que es probe y que no tié de na’ The poor one who doesn’t have anything, no quitarle de su dignidad. don’t take his dignity away. Si me dejas humillao If you leave me humbled poca cosa me has dejao you have left me with nothing, y es que al probe que no tié de na’ aay The poor one who doesn’t have anything, ahh! No le quites de su dignidad Don’t take his dignity away. Un gitano sin su honor A gypsy without his honor un geranio sin la flor a geranium without the flower es que ni mirarlo Don’t even look at him. sirve pa’ pisarlo He is just for stepping on, ni un mal bicho alrededor even a bug wouldn’t be around him. que un gitano sin su honor That a gypsy without his honor es la cosa más peor. is the worst thing. Translation by Diego Silva “Vi mnye pisali ... Kogda bi zhizn domashnim krugom” from Eugene Onegin Music by Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky ~ Text by Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky and Konstantin Schilowskij You wrote to me. Do not deny it, I have read The confession of an honest soul, The claim of an innocent love. Your sincerity is dear to me. For it, I shall repay you By also telling the truth, Straight as it is. So accept this confession; I submit myself to your judgment. Had I wished to limit my life with a burden of family, Had I been granted a good fortune to be a father or a husband, Then, having met you, I would look no further. But I was not created for such indulgences; My soul is not open to them. Your great qualities are wasted on me, For I am not worthy of them. Believe me, in all honesty The marital life would be a torture for you, No matter how much love I had for you. The moment it became a habit, I would love you no more Then judge for yourself, what kind of roses Hymen would have in store for us, And for how many long days. The dreams and years have fled away, and shall not return, I love you like a brother, yes, a brother, And, perhaps, somewhat more tenderly than a brother would. So listen to me and have no angst Many times would a young maiden trade one passing dream For another one. Adapted from translation by Stephen Ettinger from www.aria-database.com “Quando me’n vo’ ” (“When I walk”) from La Bohème Music by Giacomo Puccini ~ Text by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa Quando me’n vo’ soletta per la via, When I walk all alone in the street, La gente sosta e mira people stop and stare at me E la bellezza mia tutta ricerca in me and gaze on all my beauty Da capo a pie’ ... from head to toe ... Ed assaporo allor la bramosia And then I taste the yearning Sottil, che da gli occhi traspira which shines from their eyes E dai palesi vezzi intender sa and which is able to perceive outward charms Alle occulte beltà. from hidden beauties. Così l’effluvio del desìo tutta m’aggira, So the scent of desire is all around me, Felice mi fa! it makes me happy! E tu che sai, che memori e ti struggi, And you, while knowing, remembering, and yearning, Da me tanto rifuggi? you shrink from me? So ben: I know it very well: Le angoscie tue non le vuoi dir, You don’t want to express your anguish, Ma ti senti morir! but you feel as if you’re dying! Adapted from translation by Giuseppe Cusmano from www.aria-database.com “È la solita storia” (“It’s the old tale”) from L’Arlesiana Music by Francesco Cilèa ~ Text by Leopoldo Marenco È la solita storia del pastore ... It’s the old tale of the shepherd ... Il povero ragazzo voleva raccontarla e s’addormi. The poor boy wanted to tell it and he fell asleep. C’e nel sonno l’oblio. There is oblivion in sleep. Come l’invidio! How I envy him! Anch’io vorrei dormir cosi, I too would like to sleep in such a way, nel sonno almen l’oblio trovar! in sleep, at least, to find oblivion! La pace sol cercando io vo’.