Hila Plitmann, soprano

Nursery Rhymes was written recently for the magnificent Hila Plitmann. The texts are traditional nursery rhymes that have been repeated and re-configured. Changing musical treatments of the same texts allow the singing actor to take on different characters and create a kind of surrealistic narrative of fleeting dramatic moments. Double and triple entendres abound. – Peter Golub    

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    Things I used to say…   “If I ever lose you I hope I see you in a stranger’s eyes” No matter if they’re brown or blue Every person I see Looks Like You   “If I ever lose you I hope I hear your whispers as it begins to rain” My hair was matted and frizzied So why did you look at me Like a galaxy in your gaze I was the universe How can you hold the whole world And let go So Easily   “If I ever lose you I hope I feel your warmth in the sunbeams that fall across the kitchen table” A pack of cigarettes unopened A button off your jacket, no thread Orange juice never finished A grocery list too expensive You exist In the things no longer mundane No longer painless after you   “If I ever lose you, I hope you haunt my memories Like the incense of earth haunts the forest after a storm” Mud that’s too hard to cradle In your palms Ripping grass from the top of the downy ground And it hurts hurts hurts but if I did not feel pain I’d have truly forgotten all the venom you spoke into my veins And beautiful nothings that didn’t mean anything You showed me I have to hurt to be in love so your love was always Easy For Me   ~ Meghan McGorry (b. 2000)      

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    The Answer by Sara Teasdale   When I go back to earth And all my joyous body Puts off the red and white That once had been so proud, If men should pass above With false and feeble pity, My dust will find a voice To answer them aloud:   “Be still, I am content, Take back your poor compassion— Joy was a flame in me Too steady to destroy. Lithe as a bending reed Loving the storm that sways her— I found more joy in sorrow Than you could find in joy.”   Sara Teasdale published “The Answer” in October 1915 as the last of three poems, collectively (and irresistibly to a composer) titled “Songs.” It is a meditation on mortality, gratitude, and strength in the face of suffering. To my mind, it recalls the writings of the stoics; first and foremost is their mantra “memento mori,” or “remember you will die.” Marcus Aurelius writes in Meditations: “The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts,” and “It is not death that a man should fear, but never beginning to live.” These are ideas that are very close to me, and Teasdale’s expression of them is dyed with exquisite colors, made all the more bittersweet by her decision to take her own life eighteen years after this poem’s publication. My adaptation attempts to avoid the overtly pessimistic - I feel strongly that an artist’s work should not be colored by the circumstances of their passing. This work, and so much of her poetry, appears to me to contain the antipode to such a tragic choice - the knowledge that it is a privilege and an honor to experience such powerful feeling even when it is found in suffering, and that our final refuge will find us in its own time. – Matt Smith    

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Ի Վերին Երուսաղէմ	In Heavenly Jerusalem
Ի վերին Երուսաղէմ, ի բնակարանս հրեշտակաց,ուր Ենովք եւ Եղիաս կան ծերացեալ աղաւնակերպ,ի դրախտին Եդեմական պայծառացեալ արժանապէս,Ողորմած Տէր, ողորմեա՛ հոգւոցն մեր ննջեցելոց։	In heavenly Jerusalem, in the dwelling of angels,where Enoch and Elias have gone to age like doves,in the paradise of Eden shining deservedly,Merciful God, have mercy on the souls of our departed.

In the Armenian Christian liturgical tradition, death is just a period of rest, and the dead are still counted as members of the church.  As such, families can request special requiem prayers on the anniversary of the death of their loved ones.  The hymn, Ի Վերին Երուսաղէմ, is the hallmark of these requiem prayers.  It is a reminder that life is transient, but is also a symbol of hope because, for Armenian Christians, so is death. – Vasken Ohanian    

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    Pierrot by Wallace Stevens   I lie dreaming ‘neath the moon, You lie dreaming under ground; I lie singing while I dream, You lie dreaming of the sound.   Soon I shall lie dreaming too, Close beside you where you are — Moon! Behold me while I sing, Then, behold our empty star.     Pierrot epitomizes what it means to yearn for the unreachable. Here, however, his traditional moonstruck obsession is replaced by a very real, mortal love, which he can only dream to be reunited with. This sudden brave plea to the moon gives way to a resigned acceptance as one watches Pierrot finally come to terms with his existence in solitude, accompanied only by the moon. In his hope, he finds peace — for as his hope and despair hold hands, he becomes, for once, his own solace. – Celina Anna Kintscher    

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    “Odysseus! Come here! You are well-known from many stories! Glory of the Greeks! Now stop your ship and listen to our voices. All those who pass this way hear honeyed song, poured from our mouths. The music brings them joy, and they go on their way with greater knowledge, [Odysseus] since we know everything the Greeks and Trojans suffered in Troy, by gods’ will; and we know whatever happens anywhere on earth. [Odysseus. Come here!]”   Translated by Emily Wilson, From Homer's Odyssey, Book 12     The Odyssey has one of the first examples of a meta-song. In ancient Greece, epic poems were memorized and sung in an improvisatory manner. Within Homer’s Odyssey, there are embedded meta-narratives in the form of song-within-a-song.   In Ancient Greek mythology, sirens were described as half-woman/ half-bird creatures with beautiful voices that magically lure sailors to their destruction. While sailing across the islands of Scylla and Charybdis, Odysseus convinces his men to stuff their ears with wax and tie him to the mast of his ship, so he can hear the sirens’ beautiful song, without risking death.   I chose an English translation by Emily Wilson, who skillfully arranged the epic poem from a Greek hexameter to an English iambic pentameter, thus maintaining a cohesive poetic meter. – Andreas Apostolou    

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    The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (Excerpt) by T. S. Eliot Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.   For I have known them all already, known them all: Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume?   And I have known the eyes already, known them all— The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume?   Inspired by T.S. Eliot's renowned poem, 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,' this composition explores themes of self-reflection, existential questioning, and the intricate facets of the human experience. By commencing with the soprano's voice at its highest register, the music captures the inner turmoil and introspection portrayed in Eliot's words. – SiHyun Uhm    

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    Chanson d’Automne (1866) Les sanglots longs Des violons De l’automne Blessent mon coeur D’une langueur Monotone.   Tout suffocant Et blême, quand Sonne l’heure, Je me souviens Des jours anciens Et je pleure;   Et je m’en vais Au vent mauvais Qui m’emporte Deçà, delà, Pareil à la Feuille morte. - Paul Verlaine (1844-1896)     Autumn’s Song (1866) When a sighing begins In the violins Of the autumn-song My heart is drowned In the slow sound Languorous and long.   Pale as with pain Breath fails me, when The Hours toll deep, My thoughts recover the days that are over And I weep;   And I go Where the winds know Broken and brief To, and fro, As the winds blow A dead leaf. - Translation by Arthur Symons (1865-1945)     Year after year, I find myself writing at least one melancholy piece during these autumn months. The familiar images of the falling leaves, the shortening days, the gray skies, and the chilling winds provoke within me deep contemplation, not infrequently dotted with sadness and solitude. I began October jotting down the opening notes of this piece, and then found a poem that matched the (to my ears) gloomy and French quality of the music. Verlaine’s words capture those loneliest of autumn moments, and I greatly enjoyed setting his poetry in a style reminiscent of his musical contemporaries. – Yoni Fogelman    

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    Stars by Joaquin Lichtle   See, I am yours And you are mine Like the stars The Stars See me as I am Look beyond desire Above our arrogance My stabbing Blind judgment, darkness Apart from your true heart Don’t be fooled Arrogance! Look beyond Look to the stars Stars Stars Stars See, I am yours And you are mine Not a possession but, Like gravity We are drawn Both orbits fully aligned Together like the stars Like the stars Pervaded by light Filled with love we grasp Darkness can’t abide For within Our hearts I find, We are like the stars Stars     Stars is a piece that revolves around the theme of love and the quest to break away from blinding beliefs. As I started writing this work, the opposing themes inspired me to write the text myself. It was a transformative process as it reminded me of the essence all humans are capable of experiencing: true, unconditional love. – Joaquin Lichtle    

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    Immortality (Do Not Stand By My Grave and Weep) by Clare Harner   Do not stand By my grave, and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep—   I am the thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints in snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle, autumn rain. As you awake with morning's hush, I am the swift, up-flinging rush Of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the day transcending night. Do not stand By my grave, and cry-- I am not there, I did not die.     This poem was first introduced to me by a writer friend, and it spoke to me so deeply in that moment that I could not stop thinking about it. It connected to me back to my first encounter with Buddhist philosophy, specifically the concept of interbeing, which originates from the writing of Vietnamese Buddhist Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh. He writes,   About thirty years ago I was looking for an English word to describe our deep interconnection with everything else. I liked the word “togetherness,” but I finally came up with the word “interbeing.” The verb “to be” can be misleading, because we cannot be by ourselves, alone. “To be” is always to “inter-be.” If we combine the prefix “inter” with the verb “to be,” we have a new verb, “inter-be.” To inter-be and the action of interbeing reflects reality more accurately. We inter-are with one another and with all life.   Hanh's writing and interbeing profoundly changed my perspective and way of being in the world and has remained an important element of my life. Harner's poem seems to stem from a similar perspective; I found it incredibly inspiring and hope to bring some of these ideals to life in the music. – Madeline Barrett    

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    High Flight by John Gillespie Magee Jr.   Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds,—and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there, I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air ....   Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace Where never lark nor ever eagle flew— And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.   In January of this year, 2023, we lost Charles “Chas” Wetherbee too early to cancer. A concert violinist, professor, husband, and father of three, Chas left a lasting impact on his loved ones, colleagues, and students, as a musician and as a person. I got to know Chas briefly during our time together in Siena, Italy at the Accademia Musicale Chigiana in the Summer of 2022. Chas and his close-knit group, the Carpe Diem String Quartet, spent time with me and nine other composition students premiering new works abroad. I fondly remember enjoying the quartet’s stunning performances and their genuine love for each other as friends, especially in our final dinner together. Even after Chas had discovered his cancer had come back, he refused to put down his violin and stop sharing his music and love with the world.   After Italy, Chas and I kept in touch via email, and he and his quartet extended to me the generosity of recording another movement of my string quartet. I had no idea these months would be Chas’s final months of playing his violin. We exchanged emails, making adjustments to the composition, as Chas shared his wisdom with me beyond the summer excursion to Italy. Upon my final submission of comments to Chas, he replied, “all will be as you wish.”   Upon the eve of Chas’s passing, I discovered his GoFundMe page, flooded with thousands of donations and notes about his kindness, compassion, love, musicianship, friendship, and the mark he left as a person. Chas, throughout his whole life, gave so much to the world. Of all the notes, I would like to share this quote from his wife Karina:   “...Chas’s final words were about birds, especially birds of prey and wild fowl, “high-flyers”, as he called them... so, now, I take heart when I see a beautiful creature flying overhead; I give a small wave and a nod of acknowledgement, as I feel the warmth of the love that Chas left. I hope you feel it too. He put it out into the world for all to share.”   Dedicated in loving memory of Charles “Chas” Wetherbee With special thanks and gratitude to Hilá Plitmann Poetry from “High Flight” by John Gillespie Magee Jr. – Austin Ali