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SERENADE To music English Choral Masterworks Friday, February 10, 2017 7:30 pm Vashon Center for the Arts Vashon, Washington Saturday, February 25th, 2017 8:00 pm Trinity Episcopal Parish Seattle, Washington Emerald Ensemble Our Mission: The Emerald Ensemble enlightens the mind, uplifts the heart, and enriches the soul through great choral music presented with passion and skill. We envision a world made better through great choral music. performing Artists Sopranos: Altos: Tenors: Basses: Holly Boaz Julia Benzinger Orrin Doyle Charles Robert Austin Erika Chang Christine Knackstedt David Hendrix Gus Blazek Rebekah Gilmore Kathryn Miller Brandon Higa Michael Dudley Emily Hendrix Tyler Morse Dustin Kaspar Scott Kovacs Lisa Cardwell Pontén Heidi Vanderford Sid Law Jonathan Silvia Linda Strandberg Kathryn Weld Fred McIlroy Charles Robert Stephens Jonathan Graber, Violin Andrew Seifert, Piano Dr. Gary D. Cannon, Artistic Director J. Scott Kovacs, Executive Director Leadership and Guidance: Jo Ann Bardeen, Board Secretary Barbara Leigh, Incorporation Assistance Markdavin Obenza, Byrd Ensemble, Fiscal Sponsor Michael Monnikendam, Board Member Marnie Cannon, Advisory James Savage, Board Member Jennifer Carter, Board President Concert Volunteers: (Seattle performance only) Christine Dunbar, Vicky Henderson, Logan Krupp, Mary L’Hommedieu, Ann Marten, Tara O’Brien-Pride, Lonnie Peck The Emerald Ensemble is a Professional Choral Affiliate of the Byrd Ensemble. PROGRAM SERENADE TO MUSIC English Choral Masterworks Emerald Ensemble Friday, February 10, 2017 Saturday, February 25, 2017 Hymn to St. Cecilia (1942) Benjamin Britten (1913–1976) On Craig Ddu (1907) Frederick Delius (1862–1934) Five Negro Spirituals, from A Child of Our Time (1941/58) Michael Tippett (1905–1998) 1. Steal away 2. Nobody knows 3. Go down, Moses 4. By and by 5. Deep river Faire is the heaven (1923) William H. Harris (1883–1973) Intermission Where does the uttered Music go? (1946) William Walton (1902–1983) Serenade to Music (1938) Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872–1958) Mater ora filium (1921) Arnold Bax (1883–1953) 3 Texts and Translations Hymn to St. Cecilia, Benjamin Britten I am defeat When it knows it I Can now do nothing By suffering. In a garden shady this holy lady With reverent cadence and subtle psalm, All you lived through, Like a black swan as death came on Dancing because you Poured forth her song in perfect calm: No longer need it And by ocean’s margin this innocent virgin For any deed. Constructed an organ to enlarge her prayer, And notes tremendous from her great engine I shall never be Thundered out on the Roman air. Different. Love me. Blonde Aphrodite rose up excited, Blessed Cecilia, appear in visions Moved to delight by the melody, To all musicians, appear and inspire: White as an orchid she rode quite naked Translated Daughter, come down and startle In an oyster shell on top of the sea; Composing mortals with immortal fire. At sounds so entrancing the angels dancing Came out of their trance into time again, III And around the wicked in Hell’s abysses The huge flame flickered and eased their pain. O ear whose creatures cannot wish to fall, O calm of spaces unafraid of weight, Blessed Cecilia, appear in visions Where Sorrow is herself, forgetting all To all musicians, appear and inspire: The gaucheness of her adolescent state, Translated Daughter, come down and startle Where Hope within the altogether strange Composing mortals with immortal fire. From every outworn image is released, And Dread born whole and normal like a beast Into a world of truths that never change: II Restore our fallen day; O re-arrange. I cannot grow; O dear white children casual as birds, I have no shadow Playing among the ruined languages, To run away from, So small beside their large confusing words, I only play. So gay against the greater silences Of dreadful things you did: O hang the head, I cannot err; Impetuous child with the tremendous brain, There is no creature O weep, child, weep, O weep away the stain, Whom I belong to, Lost innocence who wished your lover dead, Whom I could wrong. Weep for the lives your wishes never led. 4 O cry created as the bow of sin Five Negro Spirituals, Sir Michael Tippett Is drawn across our trembling violin. from A Child of Our Time O weep, child, weep, O weep away the stain. O law drummed out by hearts against the still 1. Steal away Long winter of our intellectual will. Steal away, steal away, steal away to Jesus. That what has been may never be again. Steal away, steal away home. O flute that throbs with the thanksgiving breath I han’t got long to stay here. Of convalescents on the shores of death. My Lord, he calls me, he calls me by the thunder. O bless the freedom that you never chose. The trumpet sounds within-a my soul. O trumpets that unguarded children blow I han’t got long to stay here. About the fortress of their inner foe. Steal away… O wear your tribulation like a rose. Green trees a-bending, poor sinner stands a-trembling. Blessed Cecilia, appear in visions The trumpet sounds within-a my soul. To all musicians, appear and inspire: I han’t got long to stay here. Translated Daughter, come down and startle Steal away… Composing mortals with immortal fire. 2. Nobody knows — W. H. Auden (1907–1973) Nobody knows the trouble I see, Lord, Song for St. Cecilia’s Day (1940) Nobody knows the trouble I see. Nobody knows the trouble I see, Lord, Nobody knows like Jesus. On Craig Ddu, Frederick Delius O brothers, pray for me, Help me to drive old Satan away. The sky through the leaves of the bracken, Nobody knows… Tenderly, pallidly blue, Nothing but sky as I lie on the mountain-top. O mothers, pray for me, Hark! for the wind as it blew, Help me to drive old Satan away. Nobody knows… Rustling the tufts of my bracken above me, Brought from below 3. Go down, Moses Into the silence the sound of the water. Go down, Moses, way down in Egypt land; Hark! for the oxen low, Tell old Pharaoh to let my people go. Sheep are bleating, a dog When Israel was in Egypt land, Barks, at a farm in the vale: Oppressed so hard they could not stand, Blue through the bracken, softly enveloping, Let my people go. Silence, a veil. “Thus spake the Lord,” bold Moses said, — Arthur Symons (1865–1945) “If not, I’ll smite your firstborn dead.” from London Nights (1895) Let my people go. 5 4. By and by Faire is the heaven, Sir William Henry Harris O by and by, I’m going to lay down my heavy load. Faire is the heav’n where happy soules have place. I know my robe’s going to fit me well, In full enjoyment of felicitie; I’ve tried it on at the gates of Hell. Whence they doe still behold the glorious face O Hell is deep and a dark despair, Of the Divine Eternall Majestie; O stop, poor sinner, and don’t go there! O by and by... Yet farre more faire be those bright Cherubins Which all with golden wings are overdight.* 5. Deep river And those eternall burning Seraphins Deep river, my home is over Jordan. Which from their faces dart out fiery light; Deep river, Lord, Yet fairer than they both, and much more bright, I want to cross over into campground. Be th’ Angels and Archangels which attend On God’s owne Person without rest or end. Oh, chillun! Oh, don’t you want to go to that gospel feast, These then in faire each other farre excelling, That promised land were all is peace. As to the Highest they approach more neare. Walk into heaven and take my seat, Yet is the Highest farre beyond all telling And cast my crown at Jesus’ feet. Fairer than all the rest which there appear, Deep river… Though all their beauties joynd together were; How then can mortall tongue hope to expresse ❧ The image of such endless perfectnesse? — Edmund Spenser (c.1552–1599) from A Hymne of Heavenly Beautie (1596) * overdight = covered over Where does the uttered Music go? Sir William Walton Where does the uttered Music go? When well attempered mind and hand Have made the mortal clay to glow And separate spirits understand? Ah, whither, whither goes the boon, The joy, that sweeps the wilful sense Into the planetary tune Of sun-directed influence? What is this creature, Music, save the Art, The Rhythm that the planets journey by? The living Sun-Ray entering the heart, Touching the Life with that which cannot die? 6 This Man with Music touched our minds Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; With rapture from the shining ranks, The motions of his spirit are dull as night The Loves and Laws of unknown kinds And his affections dark as Erebus: 2 Who utter everlasting thanks. Let no such man be trusted. All that he uttered, may remain Music! hark! It is your music of the house. As Light, as Order, cleaving Space, Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. Within the emptiness, a gain, Silence bestows that virtue on it. Within the solitude, a grace. How many things by season season’d are To their right praise and true perfection! O Mortals, praise him, for his hand Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion3 Brought to his brothers many a ray And would not be awaked. From Light perceived, though never scanned, From Law unknown, which all obey. Soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony.