carte blanche concert ii: Sasha Cooke and Kelly Markgraf with … · 2012. 7. 13. · Sasha Cooke,...

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Transcript of carte blanche concert ii: Sasha Cooke and Kelly Markgraf with … · 2012. 7. 13. · Sasha Cooke,...

Page 1: carte blanche concert ii: Sasha Cooke and Kelly Markgraf with … · 2012. 7. 13. · Sasha Cooke, mezzo-soprano; Kelly Markgraf, baritone; Gilbert Kalish, piano July 28 saturday,

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tSrobert Schumann (1810–1856)

Minnespiel op. 101 no. 3: “Ich bin dein Baum, o Gärtner” (1849)Sasha Cooke, mezzo-soprano; Kelly Markgraf, baritone; Gilbert Kalish, piano

edvard grieg (1843–1907)Selected Songs “Jeg elsker dig”; “En svane”; “Med en vandlilje”

Kelly Markgraf, baritone; Gilbert Kalish, piano

JohanneS brahmS (1833–1897)Selected Songs “Sapphische Ode,” op. 94, no. 4 “Die Mainacht,” op. 43, no. 2 “Nicht mehr zu dir zu gehen,” op. 32, no. 2 “Unbewegte, laue Luft,” op. 57, no. 8

Sasha Cooke, mezzo-soprano; Gilbert Kalish, piano

hugo WolF (1860–1903)Liederstrauss (1878) “Sie haben heut’ Abend Gesellschaft” “Mir träumte von einem Königskind” “Ich stand in dunkeln Träumen” “Mein Liebchen, wir sassen beisammen” “Das ist ein Brausen und Heulen” “Es blasen die blauen Husaren” “Aus meinen grossen Schmerzen”

Kelly Markgraf, baritone; Gilbert Kalish, piano

FranciS Poulenc (1899–1963) Cinq poèmes de Max Jacob, FP 59 (1931) “Chanson bretonne”; “Berceuse”; “Cimetière”; “Souric et Mouric”; “La petite servante”

Sasha Cooke, mezzo-soprano; Gilbert Kalish, piano

INTERMISSION

ned rorem (b. 1923)War Scenes (1969) “A Night Battle” “Inauguration Ball” “A Specimen Case” “The Real War Will Never Get in the Books” “An Incident”

Kelly Markgraf, baritone; Gilbert Kalish, piano

george crumb (b. 1929)Three Early Songs (1947) “Night”; “Wind Elegy”; “Let It Be Forgotten”

Sasha Cooke, mezzo-soprano; Gilbert Kalish, piano

Jerome kern (1885–1945)Selected Songs “Make Believe”; “You Are Love”; “Why Do I Love You?”

Sasha Cooke, mezzo-soprano; Kelly Markgraf, baritone; Gilbert Kalish, piano

July 28saturday, July 28, 8:00 p.m., st. mark’s episcopal Church

Program overvieWThe husband-and-wife team of Sasha Cooke and Kelly Markgraf returns to Music@Menlo with a program exploring personal artistic choices. Singers have countless options in approaching repertoire, not only of composer but of poet and language, aesthetic and expression. How do artists make such choices? And why? Joined by pianist Gilbert Kalish, Cooke and Markgraf have assembled a program exploring the different elements that move us to make music. The program features the aching poetry of Heine and Whitman, the lyricism of Schumann, Brahms, and George Crumb, and songs that pay tribute to each singer’s heritage, from Edvard Grieg to Irving Berlin.

SPECIAL THANKS

Music@Menlo dedicates this performance to Kathleen G. Henschel with gratitude for her generous support.

carte blanche concert ii:

Sasha Cooke and Kelly Markgraf with Gilbert Kalish

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Along with the honor of receiving a Carte Blanche recital came the challenge of living up to the programmatic influence and incredible standard here. It should be no surprise then that about five or so ideas and truly “carte blanche” desires melded into this one program. At the start we couldn’t help but consider Menlo’s thematic plan for the summer and, in turn, why we as musicians come to music or more spe-cifically how we as singers put together a vocal recital. Hoping to offer a mirror image, we decided to explore the music from a musician’s perspective. This perspective is particularly interesting among the phe-nomenal cast of instrumentalists at Menlo, as we often have different reasons for selecting repertoire and setting the pace. Chamber music here is just about as close to being an instrumentalist as a singer can get, and yet we embrace our roots and want to explore the immense landscape that the vocal repertoire offers. Inspirations can be deeply meaningful or seemingly random. Going from the rich chromatic world of Wolf’s Liederstrauss to the often intentionally simple Poulenc Max Jacob songs, you can’t help but witness how a song’s text plays a huge part. The variety is essential to both audience and performer. Just as with a dinner party, one wants to have a main course and a side dish or two, maybe a salad: we plan the evening for your consumption and don’t want you to leave feeling too heavy—not to mention that there is a vocal and emotional toll on our side. Undoubtedly, the poetry is our great privilege and responsibility as singers, and sometimes, as in the case of Kelly’s Wolf, it is even our reason for choosing the songs. Other influential facets include the simple fact that we are married! It’s not so often that we get to sing with each other so we figure that we should take advantage of the opportunity. This reason brought us to the beautiful wedding vow–esque Schumann and playful American duets. Our nuptial union and new family of three may have been the seeds that attracted us to the idea of performing music from the countries of our ancestors, another theme thrown into the mix. We also were com-pelled towards some repertoire knowing we’d be with our friend from last summer and incredible colleague Gil. It essentially meant we could do anything! The question was what might he love to do. In reflecting on our process, it seems that Menlo was the driving force. The almost salon-like culture of expressing ideas and sharing them so generously here awakened our many recital dreams—so we decided to embrace them all.

sasHa anD KeLLY: Schumann is very much a friend to the Menlo family and without a doubt one of the most towering figures of the vocal realm. It’s fitting then that he introduce us, not only as a very familiar mentor throughout our vocal studies but also for the well- documented and legendary love of his spouse. The ballad “Ich bin dein Baum, o Gärtner” was written at a time in his marriage when Brahms was not yet in the picture and the couple had already had several chil-dren. One can hear the grounded, simple sincerity right at the start. The duet comes from his Minnespiel of 1849, a collection of eight Friedrich Rückert songs in solo and chamber settings. Psychologically speak-ing, Schumann was beginning to deteriorate at this point, dealing with depression and severe anxiety, among other things. Some critics have found these circumstances to be the reason behind the awkward and edgy musical writing of this period or that much of it, like this cycle, is rarely performed. Outside of Carmen or Don Giovanni, there aren’t many duets for baritone and mezzo-soprano, so we are grateful to Schumann for this beautiful and heartrending ode.

KeLLY: There’s nothing like having a child to pique your interest in your family history. This little being makes you ponder your own mortality, if for no other reason, simply because you know how greatly his or

her life would be affected if you were gone. It also makes me wonder whether she will be interested in her history—where her grandparents came from and what makes them who they are. I’ve tread an intriguing path while exploring my Norwegian heritage, discovering new names on faded records, reconnecting with estranged family members to hear hidden stories, and even driving blindly into the rolling hills of Wiscon-sin’s western farmlands to locate the ancestral farmstead. In the midst of this searching, I wondered why I hadn’t ever sung any songs by a Norwegian composer. Much like Scandinavian history in general, Nor-wegian musical history doesn’t exactly take a front seat in the course books. Who were the primary composers? What did they write? Edvard Grieg was a natural entry point, and I was thrilled to find a wealth of songs that are rich in both harmony and feeling. “Jeg elsker dig” is perhaps Grieg’s most famous song. Direct and charmingly simple, it has impassioned harmonies that show us a composer who knew powerful love. Nina Grieg, Edvard’s wife, was an acclaimed singer and interpreter of his songs, traveling through Europe and performing with her hus-band until the end of their lives. I like to imagine what this song would have been like for her to sing, knowing that her husband had composed it for her. Notably, both “En svane” and “Med en vandlilje” invoke the Nøkken character of Scandinavian folklore, a dangerous water troll that lures unwary travelers, only to pull them into the depths and drown them. In both pieces, Grieg manages to create concrete and compel-ling musical ideas out of Ibsen’s terse, symbolic poetry.

sasHa: What words come to mind with the mention of Brahms? For me it is lyricism, melody, beauty, torment, and immense, long-awaited joy. Within the vocal world he has become known as one of the compos-ers performed by the great voices or singers of the “golden era”—in addition to those singers who don’t feel entirely comfortable venturing too far into the recital realm or who mostly do opera. The reason lies in his vocal writing and the space and depth he provides for breath, support, and ideal vocalism. I particularly recall the voices of Christa Ludwig, Marilyn Horne, and Jessye Norman, to name a few. For this reason Brahms has always scared me! And I have avoided singing any of his vocal solos. So I wanted to finally face my fear at Menlo and take on the challenge. It not only is a matter of singing with grounded legato and good technique but also involves a fearlessness that comes into play in the live performance itself. That, I suppose, is the true test of technique for all musicians, but with Brahms it is incredibly apparent. What will happen with nerves, an audience, and whatever surprises that may occur? To give you a sense of the music, in the first song (1884), “Sapphische Ode,” Brahms envelops the listener in an even calm laid out to accompany the simple, strophic, and sinuous vocal line. The noc-turnal quality of the syncopation in the piano works to underline Hans von Schmidt’s beautiful and evocative poetry. In number two (1864), “Nicht mehr zu dir zu gehen,” Georg Friedrich Daumer’s depiction of the lover’s pained and almost obsessive longing is felt in the very first note, ominous and hesitant. This for me is more monolog than song. The third (1866), “Die Mainacht,” is truly Brahms at his best. It is one of his most famous lieder and the “tear” of Ludwig Holty’s poem has been known to beget more tears, all due to Brahms’s sense of timing, vocal registration, and rapturous harmony. Finally, in another Daumer setting of 1871, “Unbewegte, laue Luft” brings us from the depths of darker hues so innate in Brahms to an exultant and daring finish.

KeLLY: I first became intimately aware of the poetry of Heine in 2010, through my study of Schumann’s Dichterliebe. Heine’s words may not seem daring to our eyes and ears, but in his time they were shocking to the cultivated, literate world. This is a difficult thing for us to imag-ine in our oversaturated world, where we are constantly bombarded by

Program Notes: Sasha Cooke and Kelly Markgraf

*Bolded terms are defined in the glossary, which begins on page 107.

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billboards and banner ads, television and the Internet—a world where words are no longer sacred. When one reads this poetry, one must con-jure a time when the layperson might acquire only one or two new books per year; when lives maintained a proper privacy that we would be unfamiliar with; when books were practically the only in-home enter-tainment. What was on the page held great sway. In this landscape, Heine spoke of the unspoken in a way that stripped away all sense of poetic pretense, topical boundaries, or compositional conventions; he introduced tones of sarcasm, satire, and disillusionment into the oth-erwise flowery world of the literary values of Romanticism. Indeed, at one point in his career, several of his works were officially banned. The affinity that I developed for Heine led me to my discovery of Lieder-strauss when the title of an album of Wolf songs (Lieder nach Heine und Lenau) caught my eye. Giving it a listen, I was immediately struck by Wolf’s twisted harmonic playfulness and sheer symbiosis with the text. Hugo Wolf (1860–1903) was known for his peculiar, difficult disposition and was prone to despondency and mood swings. It should be no surprise, then, that at the age of eighteen the young composer could identify with the Winterreise-like sentiments of Liederstrauss, and it is possible that he was inspired by the beginning of his not-fully-requited love for César Franck’s daughter, Vally. Interestingly, Heine and Wolf both suffered miserable ends: Heine was paralyzed from chronic lead poisoning and was confined to bed for the last eight years of his life, and Wolf slipped in and out of syphilitic insanity, eventually dying in an asylum after a failed attempt to drown himself. Liederstrauss is a cycle I had never heard of, and months later I am still wondering why. It is rarely performed, and it is my pleasure to present it here tonight.

sasHa: Now for a bit of the absurd. Poulenc composed these light-hearted songs in 1931, only a few years after being introduced to Max Jacob, among many other fascinating poets and artists at a bookstore called Maison des Amis des Lettres in his hometown of Paris. (How amazing it must have been. If I could pick a time to have lived it would be then.) A follower of Satie’s simple musical canvases, Poulenc set out to do the opposite of Wagner and Debussy and create music embrac-ing simplicity, irony, and even banality. As one of the group of Les Six, he often deliberately was obscure to maintain an air of mystery and, I’d like to think, to even leave some things unanswered for himself. In these songs you’re not sure whether you’re dealing with a child-like purity and innocence or a hidden truth behind it all. Regardless, the images conjure up emotions and sensations we all can relate to. This is my favorite aspect of music—its ability to connect us on a human level. As Jacob died in a concentration camp and believed up until the end that he would be saved, I can’t help but think of him during the third song, “La petite servante.” Throughout the group, you will hear the use of speech-like vocal writing, simple rhythms, easy melodies, and open and sometimes percussive accompaniment (with possibly as many rests as notes if that gives you an idea). Poulenc’s use of repetition and traces of popular tunes was likely derived from Parisian musical entertainment. All of this lends to the ultimate clarity and immediacy intrinsic to Pou-lenc’s songs. He always gives the sense that he doesn’t take himself too seriously, something we could all use. In the context of a recital, he is a wink and a breath of fresh air. Sometimes while singing Poulenc, I feel as if I’m sitting in a dark and smoky cafe with a piano playing in the background. Is there any wonder why his music is so much fun?

KeLLY: Whitman’s words have always resonated deeply with me. Native, lusty, gritty, and full of breath, his is an aesthetic replete with keen obser-vances of life’s drab details and plain testimony of its barbarousness. It always struck me that here was a man who could encapsulate it all: the myriad experiences of a life fully lived. In 1969, American composer Ned Rorem scribed War Scenes, choosing not Whitman’s poetry but prose from his pastiche of Civil War journaling, Specimen Days. Stom-ach-twisting and touching, the essays lay bare the grimy horrors of the war, their lens focused intently on its human cost. Raised as a Quaker

and hence an ardent pacifist, Rorem dedicated the songs “To those who died in Vietnam, both sides, during the composition: 20–30 June 1969.” In his best settings, one has the sense that Rorem has a unique ability for composing without composing or sort of uncomposing a poem. Seldom, if ever, are words obscured for musical effect. Espe-cially in the quieter settings, there is such reverence for the text that it is as if he is the architect of an invisible stage for the poetry. In War Scenes, Rorem’s gifts align perfectly with Whitman’s: the composer’s ability to stay out of the way allows the poet’s uncomplicated utterance to stand tall and be heard the way that Whitman—a great lover of music and opera—would have wanted.

sasHa: For a long time George Crumb has been a favorite of mine. Last summer, in a moment of absolute splendor listening to Gil [Kalish] speak at Menlo, Patrick [Castillo] played these pieces and I was instantly won over. It certainly helped that Jan DeGaetani was his collaborator on the recording, a mezzo I’ve revered since I discovered her singing while I was in the music recording library at Rice University in 2000. When you’re a student or even at the beginning of your career, it’s certainly helpful to see experienced artists with whom you feel a kin-ship. Crumb wrote much of his music for Gil and DeGaetani (lucky me!). Unlike the aural world and performance aesthetic you might associate with him, these songs are much more tuneful and intimate. When I’ve played the songs for friends, they all say, “Oh that doesn’t even sound like Crumb!” To give you an idea, in the last Crumb song I performed, the pianist tapped on the piano’s lid for accompaniment. In all of his music, though, there is a magic and sense of the cosmos, a truly origi-nal soundscape. He wrote Three Early Songs in 1947 to the poetry of Robert Southey and Sara Teasdale. He dedicated the songs to his wife, Elizabeth Brown, who did the first reading. Interestingly enough, his daughter, Ann, was later asked to record them on Bridge Records, so in Crumb’s words, “it was something of a completion.”

sasHa anD KeLLY: How rare a treat to be able to sing love duets with the one you love and to share them with the Menlo family! It’s a tremendous joy to be able to perform together. Choosing duets to end a program naturally took on a romantic air, and we realized that one of our favorite shows, Show Boat, has a trio of charming duos. The show itself is a monument in the history of American musical theater, ushering in an entirely new genre: the musical play. The audience saw for the first time a show on Broadway that put a dramatically believ-able story in the front row; all else existed solely to serve the drama. In contrast to the trivial musical comedies prevalent during the 1920s, Show Boat daringly presented the segregated reality of a biracial soci-ety, even giving one of the pivotal roles and songs (“Ol’ Man River”) to a black stevedore. Kern’s music is part pure excitement, part passion, and part poignant desperation and, without fail, it is always memorably melodious. Show Boat opened at the Ziegfeld Theatre on December 27, 1927, and met with tremendous success, running a year and a half before closing. It has been revived numerous times, including in a 1994 production, which ran for 947 performances and was Broadway’s lon-gest running Show Boat to date. Interestingly, Kelly is related to Charles Winninger, who created the role of Cap’n Andy in the original 1927 pro-duction and also starred in the 1936 Universal Studios film adaptation of the show. Thank you to David and Wu Han and the incredible Menlo family, which we’ve felt deeply honored to be a part of. Each year has brought new joys, and this summer particularly, we’re incredibly grateful to share this special program with you!