Kara Morgan, mezzo-soprano
Carson Rose Schneider, piano
Sip along with us!
The Garland Songs - Linda Tutas Haugen
Program notes from the composer…
The texts of The Garland Songs are based upon poems written by Judy Garland in her late teens -- poems that she had printed and bound in leather and given to a few friends and relatives. They reflect the thoughts and feelings of a bright, sensitive and insightful young woman. While much of the poetry is quite dramatic, it is mature beyond her years, and above all, honest and direct. I always have as my goal to write music that will be aesthetically significant and of lasting beauty. I hope that I have in some way enhanced the meaning of these poems that allow us to look through the window at who Judy Garland was as a young woman.
I. Lover’s Goodbye to a Departing Soldier
Leave me, my love
Leave sun and moon and wind and rain
and hope and life behind
Tread into darkness, oblivion,
blindly walk with tragedy by your side
Make all men free as we are free,
but leave no room in your heart for me
Fill it with justice and liberty,
and leave me here to wait for thee
But, come back to me, my love
Not as you stand before me now,
but half gone, half dead, half departed
If body, sound thought and mind contorted,
return my love, return
I ask not all of you,
for that shall not be mine again
Come back changed, unrecognizable
But oh, my love, come back
II. The First Cigarette
I was a woman
Glamorous, sparkling, with eyes that shone,
guarding secrets untold
Lips that were petulant, pouting and bold
I was a woman
with a body molded to gentlemen’s delight
and pedicured toenails, shining and bright
I patronized night clubs, danced until three,
and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of men
were mad about me
I was a woman…
Then, in a panic, my dream began to cool
I mashed out the cigarette
and was late for school
The Giver of Stars: Six Poems of Amy Lowell - Edie Hill
Program notes from the composer…
The Giver of Stars is excerpted from a larger theatrical work entitled Amy Lowell: A Rare Pattern. Lowells’s life as a poet and how it was woven into her life with the actress, Ada Dwyer Russell, fascinated me. Lowell’s stern exterior is counterpoint to a tender heartedness and vulnerability which she shared with her beloved Ada. This cycle represents the arc of their love and life together.
I. Pyrotechnics
Our meeting was like the upward swish of a rocket
In the blue night.
I do not know when it burst;
But now I stand gaping,
In a glory of falling stars
II. Flame Apples
Little hote apples of fire
Burst out of the flaming stem
Of my heart
I do not understand how you quickened and grew,
And you amaze me
While I gather you.
I lay you, one by one,
Upon a table.
And now you seem beautiful and strange to me,
And I stand before you,
Wondering
III. Vernal Equinox
The scent of hyacinths, like a pale mist, lies between
me and my book;
And the South Wind, washing through the room,
Makes the candles quiver.
My nerves sting at a spatter of rain on the shutter,
And I am uneasy with the thrusting of green shoots
Outside, in the night
Why are you not here to overpower me with your
tense and urgent love?
Love what you heard and curious to explore more?
Check out these song suggestions by Minnesota icons!
Libby Larsen, “Try Me Good King”: for the history buffs, this intense song cycle features texts taken from the last words of the wives of Henry VIII
Jocelyn Hagen, “Songs of Fields and Prairies”: a beautiful cycle of 7 songs about fields and prairies
Edie Hill, “Between the Limbs, Music”: four songs about love, life, and death
Wendy Durrwachter, “Only One”: a song about a special recipe, commissioned by OOPS MN
Abbie Betinis, “Nattsinger” (Nightsongs): a cycle of seven songs exploring the nature of time from sunset to dawn; this is a chamber piece for clarinet, high voice, and piano
Support the Artists
Suggested $10 donation
III. My Love is Lost
My love is lost
I held it as a handful of sand
clenching my fist to hold it there
Yet bit by bit, it slipped through my aching fingers,
now nothing but memories of every smile,
every kiss, and above all, every word
For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart
It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul
And when I opened my tired hand
and found my love was gone,
I trembled, trembled and died
For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart
It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul
I struggle to hide my deadness,
to conceal the emptiness in my eyes that sparkle with tears,
always so close, but never come
For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart
It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul
IV. Homage: The Wish
Would that my pen were tipped with a magic wand
That I could tell of my love for you
That I could write with the surge I feel when I gaze upon your sweet face
Would that my throat were blessed by the nightingale
That I could sing of my heart’s great love
in some lonely tree flooded with silver
Sing till I burst my breast with such passion
Sing then fall dead to lay at your feet
Would that my pen were tipped with a magic wand
IV. The Giver of Stars
Hold your soul open for my welcoming
Let the quiet of your spirit bathe me
With its clear and rippled coolness,
That, loose-limbed and weary, I find rest,
Outstretched upon your peace, as on a bed of ivory.
Let the flickering flame of your soul play all about me,
That into my limbs may come the keenness of fire,
The life and joy of tongues of flame,
And, going out from you, tightly strung and in tune,
I may rouse the blear-eyed world,
And pour into it the beauty which you have begotten.
V. Autumnal Equinox
Why do you not sleep, Beloved?
Is it so cold that the stars stand out of the sky
Like golden nails not driven home.
The fire crackles pleasantly,
And I sit here listening
For your regular breathing from the room above
What keeps you awake, Beloved?
Is it the same nightmare that keeps me strained with
listening
So that I cannot read?
VI. A Sprig of Rosemary
I cannot see your face.
When I think of you,
It is your hands which I see.
Your hands
Sewing,
Holding a book,
Resting for a moment on the sill of a window.
My eyes keep always the sight of your hands,
But my heart holds the sound of your voice,
And the soft brightness which is your soul.
Beer Pairing
EDIE HILL URBAN GROWLER PICK
Golden Hammer IPA (ABV: 7% IBU: 70)
WHY? The Golden Hammer is a well-balanced marriage of West and East Coast IPA traditions - a new type of IPA popularized in the Northeast, where Amy Lowell was born and raised in Brookline, Massachusetts. One of her brothers would go on to become president of Harvard College and Amy saw her first poem, “Fixed Idea,” published in the Atlantic in 1910.
Beer Pairing
LINDA TUTAS HAUGEN URBAN GROWLER PICK
De-Lovely Porter (ABV: 5.6% IBU: 33)
WHY? Urban Growler’s flagship porter is not only smooth and delicious, but the name is a reference to one of Cole Porter’s most famous tunes. Judy sang this and many more Porter hits over the course of her career, most famously in her thrilling medley tribute to the composer at the 1965 Academy Awards.