Ben Bliss, Tenor Lachlan Glen, Piano Sat, Nov 5 / 3 PM / Hahn Hall

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Ben Bliss, tenor Lachlan Glen, piano Sat, Nov 5 / 3 PM / Hahn Hall

Program Strauss: John Gruen: Selections from Sechs Lieder von Adolf Friedrich Graf Spring is Like a Perhaps Hand von Schack, op. 17 from Three by E.E. Cummings Ständchen Lady will You Come with Me Into Nur Mut! from Three by E.E. Cummings Barkarole Lowell Liebermann: Ver Lieder, op. 27 The Arrow and the Song Morgen! from Six Songs on Poems of Henry W. Longfellow

Boulanger: Theodore Chanler: Clairières dans le ciel I Rise When You Enter No. 4 - Un poète disait No. 7 - Nous nous aimerons tant Ned Rorem: No. 8 - Vous m’avez regardé avec toute votre âme Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening No. 9 - Les lilas qui avaient fleuri Eden Ahbez: Tosti: Nature Boy (Nat King Cole) Marechiare Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer: - Intermission - One for My Baby (and One More for the Road)

Britten: Ray Charles: The Children and Sir Nameless Hallelujah I Love Her So The Last Rose of Summer John Gruen’s works are provided courtesy of his daughter, Julia Gruen, The Choirmaster’s Burial (from Winter Words) to whom his Cummings cycle is dedicated. About the Program On today’s concert, our recitalists present a distinctly modern program spanning three languages, two hemispheres, and multiple genres, yet what differences we find in language and musical idiom are bridged by time: every composer featured in this recital lived and composed in the twentieth century. While the Strauss and Tosti selections were both written in the waning years of the nineteenth century, both composers bridged the gap between the two centuries, ushering in a new era of composition.

Richard Strauss (1864-1949): Selections from Sechs Lieder von Adolf Friedrich Graf von Schack, op. 17 “Ständchen,” a tale of two young lovers’ late-night rendezvous beneath the town linden tree, begins with the gentle tinkling of piano keys, perhaps the soft twinkling of stars through the leaves. The near-constant flurry of undulating figures in the piano and the frequent leaps in the vocal line capture the excitement of the couple. Von Schack’s poetry is laden with symbolism: linden, nightingale, and rose, all evocative of young love, leave little to the imagination. In this song, one of Strauss’ earliest numbered works, we see already his mastery of building tension and portraying unbridled joy. The boldness of the first song stands in sharp contrast to the winding, chromatic melodies and melancholy which open “Nur Mut!,” yet here too we find deeply emotional writing. In the second and third stanzas the music and text become most impassioned, ascending to the words “glorious blue heaven.” “Barkarole” takes its name from the style of folk songs sung by Venetian gondoliers. The rocking rhythm evokes a boat moving “from wave to wave in a dance.” Another impassioned love song, here Strauss uses increasingly wide leaps to illustrate the narrator’s mounting impatience as he approaches the balcony of his beloved. In von Schack’s poetry we again find frequent evocation of the natural world, a central fascination among Romantic artists.

No. 2 - Ständchen Serenade Mach auf, mach auf, doch leise mein Kind, Open up, open up, but softly, my child, Um keinen vom Schlummer zu wecken. so as to rouse no one from slumber. Kaum murmelt der Bach, kaum zittert im Wind The brook scarcely murmurs, the breeze scarcely Ein Blatt an den Büschen und Hecken. trembles Drum leise, mein Mädchen, daß nichts sich regt, a leaf on bush or hedge. Nur leise die Hand auf die Klinke gelegt. So softly, my maiden, so nothing shall stir, just lay your hand soft on the doorlatch. Mit Tritten, wie Tritte der Elfen so sacht, Um über die Blumen zu hüpfen, With footsteps as light as the footsteps of elves, Flieg leicht hinaus in die Mondscheinnacht, Hop your way over the flowers, Zu mir in den Garten zu schlüpfen. fly lightly out into the moonlit night, Rings schlummern die Blüten am rieselnden Bach and slip to me in the garden. Und duften im Schlaf, nur die Liebe ist wach. By the rippling brook the flowers slumber, fragrant in sleep; only love is awake. Sitz nieder, hier dämmert’s geheimnisvoll Unter den Lindenbäumen, Sit--here the dark is full of mystery, Die Nachtigall uns zu Häupten soll under the linden trees, Von unseren Küssen träumen, the nightingale above our heads should Und die Rose, wenn sie am Morgen erwacht, dream of our kisses, Hoch glühn von den Wonnenschauern der Nacht. and the rose, when in the morning it wakes, brightly glows from this bliss drenched night. No. 5 - Nur Mut! Take Courage! Laß das Zagen, trage mutig Leave your hesitating, bear bravely Deine Sorgen, deine Qual, Your worries, your torment! Sei die Wunde noch so blutig, Be the wound, ever so bloody, Heilen wird sie doch einmal. It shall one day heal. Unter tiefer Eisesdecke Beneath a deep blanket of ice Träumt die junge Knospe schon, The young bud already dreams Dass der Frühling sie erwecke That spring awakens it Mit der Lieder holdem Ton. With the lovely sound of song. Nur empor den Blick gewendet, Only turn your gaze aloft, Und durch düst’res Wolkengrau And through the grey of gloomy clouds Brich zuletzt, dass es dich blendet, Breaks at last, to dazzle you, Glorreich noch des Himmels Blau. the glorious blue heavens! Aber auch die trüben Stunden But also in the dim hours, Und die Tränen, die du weinst, And the tears that you weep— laub’, wie Freuden, die entschwunden, Believe, the joys which disappeared, Süßer scheinen sie dir einst. will one day seem sweeter to you than before. Und mit Wehmut, halb nur heiter, And with melancholy, only half-cheerful, Scheidest du für immerdar Forever say goodbye Von dem Leiden, dem Begleiter, To sorrow, your companion, Der so lange treu dir war. Who for so long was faithful to you.

No. 6 - Barkarole Barcarole Um der fallenden Ruder Spitzen Around the tips of the falling oars Zittert und leuchtet ein schimmernder Glanz, A gleaming radiance trembles and shines, Flieht bei jedem Schlage mit Blitzen it flies at every stroke with flashes, Hin von Wellen zu Wellen im Tanz. From wave to wave in a dance. Mir im Busen von Liebeswonnen With love’s rapture in my breast, Zittert und leuchtet das Herz wie die Flut, My heart trembles and shines like the flood, Jubelt hinauf zu den Sternen und Sonnen, Rejoices to the stars and suns above, Bebt zu vergeh’n in der wogenden Glut. Quivers and fades away in the surging glow. Schon auf dem Felsen durch’s Grün der Platane Now on the cliffs through the green of the sycamore Seh’ ich das säulengetragene Dach, I see the column-supported roof, Und das flimmernde Licht am Altane And the shimmering light on the balcony Kündet mir, dass die Geliebte noch wach. Tells me my beloved is still awake. Fliege, mein Kahn, und birg uns verschwiegen, Fly, my boat, and hide us discreetly, Birg uns, selige Nacht des August; Hide us, blissful August night! Süß wohl ist’s, auf den Wellen sich wiegen, Although it is sweet to sway on the waves, Aber süßer, süßer an ihrer Brust. It is sweeter still upon her breast. “Morgen!,” No. 4 from Vier Lieder, op. 27 1894 saw the unsuccessful premiere of Strauss’ first opera, Guntram; Pauline de Ahna, then Strauss’ fiancée, sang the soprano role. Later that year, the two would be married, and it was for this occasion that Strauss wrote the four songs of opus 27 as a present to Pauline (“Cäcilie,” the second song in the set, the night before the wedding!). Both text and vocal line begin and end mid-thought, the lack of finality suggesting a moment in time stretched into eternity.

No. 4 - Morgen Tomorrow Text: John Henry Mackay (1864 -1933) And tomorrow the sun will shine again, Und morgen wird die Sonne wieder scheinen and on the path that I shall take, Und auf dem Wege, den ich gehen werde, We will, we happy ones, again be made one Wird uns, die Glücklichen, sie wieder einen upon this sun-breathing earth . . . Inmitten dieser sonnenatmenden Erde. . . And to the shore, broad, blue-waved, Und zu dem Strand, dem weiten, wogenblauen, we shall, quiet and slow, descend, Werden wir still und langsam niedersteigen, silently, into each other’s eyes we’ll gaze, Stumm werden wir uns in die Augen schauen, and on us will fall joy’s speechless silence . . . Und auf uns sinkt des Glückes stummes Schweigen . . .

Lili Boulanger (1893-1918): Selections from Clairières dans le ciel (Clearing in the Sky) Though illness tragically cut short her life at the age of twenty-four, French composer Lili Boulanger accomplished as much as many of her older counterparts. Born into a highly musical family including celebrated teacher Nadia Bou- langer (her older sister), Lili was surrounded by music. A child prodigy and first female winner of the prestigious Prix de Rome at age nineteen, Lili composed a significant volume of works. Clairières dans le ciel, a thirteen-song cycle, stands among her finest achievements. Taken from Francis Jammes’ Tristesses, the cycle ruminates at length on a failed romance. On the first page of an early draft, Lili wrote that the music should be sung as if the relationship were “still fresh in the mind.” “Un poète disait” captures the moment of new love. Harmonies turn on a dime à la Fauré: the effect is pleasantly intoxicating, like the fragrance of spring flowers. In “Nous nous aimerons tant,” the couple is rendered speechless; the text and languorous piano accompaniment share a similar lack of motion. Boulanger sets “Vous m’avez regardé avec toute votre âme,” one of the shortest poems in the entire cycle, with equal measure of tenderness. The narrow descending intervals in the voice suggest a lover’s gentle caresses. As the cycle progresses, the lovers’ affection has begun to fade. “Les lilas qui avaient fleuri” (the ninth song in the complete cycle) opens with a flurry of activity in the piano, like the scattering of autumn leaves. The vocal writing in this song shows Lili Boulanger at her most expressive, as dissonant harmonies clang against the words “my heart should die” and inchoate feelings of anger and frustration burst forth. No. 4 - Un poète disait A poet said…

Un poète disait que lorsqu’il était jeune, A poet said that when he was young il fleurissait des vers comme un rosier des roses. he blossomed with verse, like rose-bushes with roses. Lorsque je pense à elle, il me semble que jase When I think of her, an inexhaustable spring une fontaine intarissable dans mon cœur. seems to babble in my heart. Comme sur le lys Dieu pose un parfum d’église, As God places a church-scent on the lily comme il met du corail aux joues de la cerise, and coral on the cheeks of the cherry, je veux poser sur elle, avec dévotion, I wish to give, with devotion, to her la couleur d’un parfum, qui n’aura pas de nom. the colour of a scent that shall have no name.

No. 7. Nous nous aimerons tant Our Love Will Equal Our Silence Translation by Edward M. Anderson

Nous nous aimerons tant que nous tairons nos mots, We will love each other so much that our words will be En nous tendant la main, quand nous nous reverrons. silent, Vous serez ombragée par d’anciens rameaux as we hold hands when meeting again. Sur le banc que je sais où nous assoierons. You will be shaded by ancient branches Donc nous nous assoierons sur ce banc tous deux seuls. on the bank where I know we shall sit. D’un long moment, ô mon amie, vous n’oserez. So we shall sit on this bank the two of us alone Que vous me serez douce et que je tremblerai. For a long time, oh my friend, you will not dare, How sweet you will be with me and I shall tremble.

No. 8. Vous m’avez regardé avec toute votre âme You Have Looked at Me with All Your Soul Translation by Edward M. Anderson

Vous m’avez regardé avec toute votre âme. You have watched me with all your soul. Vous m’avez regardé longtemps comme un ciel bleu. For a long time you have looked at me like a blue sky. J’ai mis votre regard à l’ombre de mes yeux I have put your glance in the shadow of my eyes Que ce regard était passionné et calme. It was passionate… and calm

No. 9. Les lilas qui avaient fleuri The Lilacs which had flowered Translation by D.Williamson

Les lilas qui avaient fleuri l’année dernière The lilacs that bloomed last year vont fleurir de nouveau dans les tristes parterres. will bloom once again in the melancholy flowerbeds. Déjà le pêcher grêle a jonché le ciel bleu The spindly peach tree has already sprinkled de ses roses, comme un enfant la Fête-Dieu. the blue sky with its roses Mon cœur devrait mourir au milieu de ces choses like a child on corpus Christi day. car c’était au milieu des vergers blancs et roses My heart should die in the midst of these things. que j’avais espéré je ne sais quoi de vous. For it was in the midst of white and pink orchards Mon âme rêve sourdement sur vos genoux. that I had hoped for. . . I don’t know what . . . from you. Ne la repoussez point. Ne la relevez pas My soul dreams silently on your lap. de peur qu’en s’éloignant de vous elle ne voie Do not push it away. Do not awaken it combien vous êtes faible et troublée dans ses bras. for fear that in drawing away from you, it will see how weak and troubled you are in its arms. Paolo Tosti (1846-1916): “Marechiare” While the history of Neapolitan song stretches back centuries, many view the festival of Piedigrotta, begun in the 1830s, as the birthplace of the modern canzone napoletana. This is a genre very much of the people: the subjects of these songs are often everyday situations (in the same vein as verismo opera) and, as the name suggests, they are written in Neapolitan, a language similar to--yet distinct from--Italian. Tosti’s music gives primacy to the voice: the simple accompaniment and repetitive, catchy melody gave festival singers opportunity to show off, and allowed festival goers to easily take the songs far beyond Naples, giving “Marechiare” and other canzoni lives of their own.

Marechiare Marechiaro Text by Salvatore Di Giacomo (1860 -1934)

Quanno sponta la luna a Marechiare When the moon rises over (the city of) Marechiaro, pure li pisce nce fann’ a l’ammore, even the fish are making love. se revotano l’onne de lu mare, The waves of the sea revolt pe la priezza cagneno culore changing color from joy] quanno sponta la luna a Marechiare. When the moon rises over Marechiaro, A Marechiare nce sta na fenesta, In Marechiaro, there is a window. pe’ la passione mia nce tuzzulea, My passion knocks on it. nu carofano adora int’a na testa, A fragrant carnation in a vase, passa l’acqua pe sotto e murmuléa, with murmuring waters passing beneath. A Marechiare nce sta na fenesta In Marechiaro, there is a balcony. A Marechiare, a Marechiare, nce sta na fenesta. Benjamin Britten (1913-1976): “The Children and Sir Nameless” This ballad by Thomas Hardy tells of the pompous Sir Nameless, whose decision to immortalize himself in statue form rather than fathering children hilariously backfires. An irreverent take on the cruel, sometimes humorous iro- nies of fate, Britten’s blustery music further cuts the eponymous knight down to size.

These wretched children romping in my park With shield, and crest, and casque, and word com- Trample the herbage till the soil is bared, plete: And yap and yell from early morn till dark! When done a statelier work was never known. Go keep them harnessed to their set routines: Thank God I’ve none to hasten my decay; Three hundred years hied; Church-restorers came, For green remembrance there are better means And, no one of his lineage being traced, Than offspring, who but wish their sires away.” They thought an effigy so large in frame Best fitted for the floor. There it was placed, Sir Nameless of that mansion said anon: Under the seats for schoolchildren. And they “To be perpetuate for my mightiness Kicked out his name, and hobnailed off his nose; Sculpture must image me when I am gone.” And, as they yawn through sermon-time, they say, - He forthwith summoned carvers there express “Who was this old stone man beneath our toes? To shape a figure stretching seven-odd feet (For he was tall) in alabaster stone,

“The Last Rose of Summer” Thomas Moore’s popular poem and melody have been translated into numerous languages and set by many great composers including Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Glinka, and Gounod. Britten leaves the original melody mostly untouched, opting instead to add quasi-baroque ornamentation and a subtly-dissonant, harp-like accompaniment. Britten’s setting shows a preternatural ability to turn the old and well-worn into something new, exciting, and slightly off-kilter, even while using centuries-old idioms.

‘Tis the last rose of summer, Thus kindly I scatter, Left blooming alone; Thy leaves o’er the bed, All her lovely companions Where thy mates of the garden Are faded and gone; Lie scentless and dead. No flower of her kindred, No rosebud is nigh, So soon may I follow, To reflect back her blushes, When friendships decay, Or give sigh for sigh. And from Love’s shining circle The gems drop away. I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one! When true hearts lie withered, To pine on the stem; And fond ones are flown, Since the lovely are sleeping, Oh! who would inhabit Go, sleep thou with them. This bleak world alone? “The Choirmaster’s Burial,” from Winter Words Britten found this text in a copy of Hardy’s Collected Poems given to him and his partner, tenor Peter Pears, by the author Christopher Isherwood. Here we again see Britten mixing idioms from very different stylistic periods: the lilting, Purcelling ornamentation and the harmonization of the hymn-tune “Mount Ephraim” transport the listener across more than two centuries of sonic landscapes. Though the following set of songs are all distinctly American--American texts set by American composers--a con- nection to Paris, France links them all. John Gruen, born in the northern suburbs of Paris, fled Europe with his family to escape fascism. Chanler, on the other hand, went to Paris to study with Nadia Boulanger, while Rorem, “always attracted by things French… already French at home in Chicago,” would gain notoriety with his scandalous Paris Diary. Like Chanler and so many other American composers, Lowell Liebermann shares a direct musical lineage to Paris and Nadia Boulanger through one of his teachers, the late David Diamond.

He often would ask us As soon as I knew They buried the master That, when he died, That his spirit was gone Without any tune. After playing so many I thought this his due, To their last rest, And spoke thereupon. But ‘twas said that, when If out of us any “I think,” said the vicar, At the dead of next night Should here abide, “A read service quicker The vicar looked out, And it would not task us, Than viols out-of-doors There struck on his ken We would with our lutes In these frosts and hoars. Thronged roundabout, Play over him That old-fashioned way Where the frost was graying By his grave-brim Requires a fine day, The headstoned grass, The psalm he liked best - And it seems to me A band all in white The one whose sense suits It had better not be.” Like the saints in church-glass, “Mount Ephraim” - Singing and playing And perhaps we should seem Hence, that afternoon, The ancient stave To him, in Death’s dream, Though never knew he By the choirmaster’s grave. Like the seraphim. That his wish could not be, To get through it faster Such the tenor man told When he had grown old.

John Gruen (1926-2016): Selections from Three by E. E. Cummings Critic, photographer, composer, and biographer, modern-day Renaissance man John Gruen’s work spanned multiple genres and seven decades. Though an accomplished composer in his twenties, he soon discovered “there were few opportunities in America for a composer who specialized solely in art song.” Fortunately, those pieces have become a small yet significant part of the American recital repertoire. The interplay of text and music in these songs evinces a clear artistic affinity between composer and poet. Light, bouncy, and humorously erratic, “Spring is like a perhaps hand” shows both artists delighting in the joys of language. Cummings, himself an amateur pianist and composer, understood well the power of rhythm and syntax, and how to effectively distort and reshape them. “Lady will you come with me into” is equally playful and off-kilter; here, Gruen renders Cummings’ hard stops and ends of phrases as cheeky pauses. The descending interval of a minor third that opens and closes the song calls to mind a child’s schoolyard taunt; the final phrase, truncated, ends like a joke waiting for the punchline. Texts from ‘Three’ by E.E Cummings (1894 – 1962) III - Spring is Like a Perhaps Hand II - Lady will you come with me into Spring is like a perhaps hand Lady will you come with me into (which comes carefully the extremely little house of out of Nowhere) arranging my mind. Clocks strike. The a window, into which people look(while people stare moon’s round,through the window arranging and changing placing as you see and really i have no carefully there a strange servants. We could almost live thing and a known thing here) and at the top of these stairs, there’s a free changing everything carefully room. We almost could go(you spring is like a perhaps and i) into a together whitely big Hand in a window there is but if so or so (carefully to slowly I opened the window a and fro moving New and most thinyness, the moon(with white wig Old things ,while and polished buttons) would take you away people stare carefully moving a perhaps --and all the clocks would run down the next day. fraction of flower here placing an inch of air there) and without breaking anything.

Lowell Liebermann (b. 1961): “The Arrow and the Song,” from Six Songs on Poems of Henry W. Longfellow In this setting of a simple yet poignant Longfellow poem, a hurried stream of notes on the piano surround the voice, which moves in a direct, declamatory style. The busy, fast-moving accompaniment depicts both the swift arrow and flying song while still letting the text, a rumination on the power of music, shine through.

I shot an arrow into the air, For who has sight so keen and strong, It fell to earth, I knew not where; That it can follow the flight of song? For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke; I breathed a song into the air, And the song, from beginning to end, It fell to earth, I knew not where; I found again in the heart of a friend. Theodore Chanler (1902-1961): “I Rise When You Enter” While less known than his contemporaries, fellow American composer Virgil Thomson wrote that Chanler’s songs, “though few in number, are probably the best we have.” Of the fifty or so songs in his oeuvre, many of the texts were supplied by Leonard Feeney, a Jesuit priest and friend of Chanler’s. Theirs was an unusual collaboration, with Feeney sometimes supplying texts to music Chanler had already written. The relationship between the men would become strained, as Feeney’s radical views (Feeney would later be excommunicated for roughly twenty years) alienated the mild-mannered Chanler, but not before producing songs such as this one, a buoyant piece brimming with madcap optimism.

You are so wonderful, what shall I do? You are so wonderful, what shall I say? I rise when you enter. Shall I tell you a story of a knight and a maid and the Of attraction I tell you, if anything’s true. old fashioned way You’re the absolute center. He would fight for her glory? No, we’re not the people for such enterprise I take off my hat when I ride with you down on the lift You’re just one of those gals, From the seventeenth floor to the fifth, to the ground; I’m just one of those guys; Through the circular door I revolve you around; But anyhow notice whenever you enter, We go out in the moonlight, the mist, or the rain, I rise. And I give you my arm to accept, and I love you again.

Ned Rorem (b. 1923): “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” Robert Frost called this poem, one of his most famous, his “best bid for remembrance.” Ned Rorem’s aim for the work would be less grandiose: written while he was a student at Juilliard, this short song bears the dedication “for my father.” The unostentatious, reflective music complements but never overpowers, wisely letting Frost’s immortal words remain at the forefront.

Whose woods these are I think I know. He gives his harness bells a shake His house is in the village though; To ask if there is some mistake. He will not see me stopping here The only other sound’s the sweep To watch his woods fill up with snow. Of easy wind and downy flake. My little horse must think it queer The woods are lovely, dark and deep, To stop without a farmhouse near But I have promises to keep, Between the woods and frozen lake And miles to go before I sleep, The darkest evening of the year. And miles to go before I sleep. Eden Ahbez (1908-1995): “Nature Boy” When eden ahbez (born George Alexander Aberle), a self-described “Nature Boy” and forerunner of the hippie movement, handed a copy of his song to Nat King Cole’s manager Mort Ruby in 1947, he was a little-known pianist living beneath the first “L” of the Hollywood Sign (so legend goes). A year later, Cole’s team tracked ahbez down to buy the rights to the song. Though abhez had stolen the tune from a Yiddish musical (they ultimately settled out of court), he sold the rights to “Nature Boy” for $10,000. The song, which tells of a “strange, enchanted boy” and his en- treatment to love, is mournful and plaintive, as if told from the perspective of one who had heard the boy’s message too little too late.

There was a boy, And then one day, A very strange enchanted boy; One summer day, he passed my way They say he wandered very far, very far And as we spoke of many things, Over land and sea Fools and kings A little shy and sad of eye, This he said to me: But very wise was he. “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn Is just to love and be loved in return”.

Harold Arlen (1905-1986): “One for My Baby (And One More for the Road)” A long, meandering “tapeworm” in Tin Pan Alley parlance, this tale of a down-on-his-luck barfly became a hit for many of the greatest singers of the twentieth century, including Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, and Tony Bennett. For Frank Sinatra, it became one of his most enduring “saloon songs;” he recorded the song for six different albums over the course of five decades. Text by Johnny Mercer (1909 – 1976)

It’s quarter to three, there’s no one in the place except You’d never know it but buddy I’m a kind of poet you and me And I’ve got a lot of things to say So set ‘em up Joe, I’ve got a little story you oughta And when I’m gloomy, you simply got to listen to me know Until it’s talked away We’re drinking my friend to the end of a brief episode Make it one for my baby and one more for the road Well that’s how it goes and Joe I know you’re gettin’ anxious to close I got the routine, so drop another nickel in the ma- So thanks for the beer, I hope you didn’t mind my chine bending your ear I’m feeling so bad, I wish you’d make the music Don’t let it be said that little Freddie can’t carry his dreamy and sad load Could tell you a lot but that’s not in a gentleman’s code Just make it one for my baby and one more for the Just make it one for my baby and one more for the road road That long, long road, that long, long road Ray Charles (1930-2004): “Hallelujah, I Love Her So” As 1955 was drawing to a close, Ray Charles was discovering his first taste of mainstream recognition, including the first in a string of notorious run-ins with the police. Prior to a performance in Philadelphia one week before Thanks- giving, a dispute with a fiery DJ over a dressing room led the DJ to call the police, who informed them that Charles and his band were using drugs. The group were promptly arrested (headlines read “NABBED IN DOPE RAID”); while Charles was able to post bail, the band spent a week behind bars. A relatively minor scandal, it was soon forgotten with the release of more crowd-pleasing hits like “Hallelujah,” a raucous fusion of gospel and blues, sacred and profane.

Let me tell you ‘bout a girl I know She kisses me and she hold me tight She is my baby, and he she lives next door And tell me, “Daddy everything’s all right” Every morning ‘fore the sun comes up That’s why I know, yes, I know She brings my coffee in my favorite cup Hallelujah, I just love her so That’s why I know, yes, I know Now if I call her on the telephone Hallelujah, I just love her so And tell her that I’m all alone When I’m in trouble and I have no friends By the time I count from one to four I know she’ll go with me until the end I hear her on my door Everybody asks me, “How I know?” In the evening when the sun goes down I smile at them and say she told me so When there is nobody else around That’s why I know, oh, I know She kisses me and she hold me tight Hallelujah, I just love her so And tell me, “Daddy everything’s all right” That’s why I know, yes, I know Now if I call her on the telephone Hallelujah, I just love her so And tell her that I’m all alone By the time I count from one to four Oh, Hallelujah don’t you know I hear her on my door I just love her so She is my little woman In the evening when the sun goes down Way all down When there is nobody else around Baby