El 17 de novembre el públic assistent en el Wigmore Hall de Londres al recital del contratenor Andreas Scholl i la pianista Tamar Halperin segurament van sortir extasiats de tanta dolçor, tendresa i sensibilitat extrema, ja que el programa integrat per cançons de bressol de tota mena suposa una immersió absoluta a un món irreal que suposa, ja us ho dic ara, una experiència musical extraordinària.

Andreas Scholl us sorprendrà des de la bellíssima “Sergeant MacKenzie” que inicia el sorprenent recital, ja que ràpidament anireu a veure la fitxa del concert per saber qui és el baríton que comparteix programa amb el contratenor alemany, doncs bé, aquest baríton no és altre que el propi Scholl cantant amb la seva veu “natural”, una veu que el dia del recital no estava en plenes i òptimes condicions com apreciareu sense gaire esforç, però que experimenta i dialoga amb si mateixa per escodrinyar totes les possibilitats expressives, com aquell instrumentista que sotmet el piano, el violí o el fagot fins als límits extrems per treure tot el suc de la partitura.

Sorprèn tot i que pot ser discutible el resultat, tot i que en ami m’ha fascinat, tant per la bellesa del repertori triat, com per aquesta experimentació arriscada, sense perdre mai ni la musicalitat, ni la sensibilitat que sempre ha caracteritzat a aquest gran cantant.

Jo crec que el conjunt suposa un reguitzell de perles que no cal degustar sense quasi ni respirar, com van fer els assistents al concert, que durant les dues parts tan sols van tenir un petit recés amb les dues obres pianístiques, però no us negaré que tot seguit amb la pausa pertinent per anar a estirar les cames, suposa un viatge intens als sentiments.

Hi ha dies que em sento molt satisfet del material que us deixo a disposició, i avui n’és un d’ells, per això he cregut convenient deixar-vos totes les peces per escoltar, juntament amb les lletres, que en algun cas no s’ajusten del tot amb el que canta Scholl. i per altra part l’arxiu que podeu baixar trobareu tot el concert radiat, amb les due sobres de piano i els cometaris i aplaudiments  enfervorits del públic.

Joseph Kilna MacKenzie: Sergeant MacKenzie

Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun

When they come a wull staun ma groon
Staun ma groon al nae be afraid

Thoughts awe hame tak awa ma fear
Sweat an bluid hide ma veil awe tears

Ains a year say a prayer faur me
Close yir een an remember me

Nair mair shall a see the sun
For a fell tae a Germans gun

Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun

Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun

Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun

English Translation
Lay me down in the cold cold ground
Where before many more have gone
Lay me down in the cold cold ground
Where before many more have gone

When they come I will stand my ground
Stand my ground Ill not be afraid

Thoughts of home take away my fear
Sweat and blood hide my veil of tears

Once a year say a prayer for me
Close your eyes and remember me

Never more shall I see the sun
For I fell to a Germans gun

Lay me down in the cold cold ground
Where before many more have gone
Lay me down in the cold cold ground
Where before many more have gone

Where before many more have gone

In memory of Sgt. Charles Stuart MacKenzie
Seaforth Highlanders
Who along with many others gave up his life
So that we can live free

We will remember them

Randy Newman: In Germany Before the War

In Germany Before The War
There was a man who owned a store
In nineteen hundred thirty-four
In Dusseldorf
And every night at fine-o-nine
He’d cross the park down to the Rhine
And he’d sit there by the shore

I’m looking at the river
But I’m thinking of the sea
Thinking of the sea
Thinking of the sea
I’m looking at the river
But I’m thinking of the sea

A little girl has lost her way
With hair of gold and eyes of gray
Reflected in his glasses
As he watches her
A little girl has lost her way
With hair of gold and eyes of gray

I’m looking at the river
But I’m thinking of the sea
Thinking of the sea
Thinking of the sea

We lie beneath the autumn sky
My little golden girl and I
And she lies very still

Chava Alberstein: Ikh shtey unter a Bokserboym

Ikh shtey unter a bokserboym,	I stand beneath a carob tree,
a bokserboym,	a carob tree,
Tsu im derklibn kh’hob zikh koym,	I got there, but not easily,
ikh hob zikh koym.	not easily.
Ikh zits unter a faygnboym,	I sit beneath a fig tree,
a faygnboym,	a fig tree,
Arum iz grin, arum iz groym,	And all around is green and free,
s’iz grin un groym.	is green and free.
Ikh lig unter a mandlboym,	I lie beneath an almond tree,
a mandlboym,	an almond tree,
Er iz geven bay mir in troym,	It appeared in a dream to me,
bay mir in troym.	a dream to me.
A bokserboym,	A carob tree,
A faygnboym,	A fig tree,
A mandlboym,	An almond tree –
In oyg a trer halt eyn zikh koym,	I stop my tears, not easily,
halt eyn zikh koym.	not easily.

Machaut (arr.Theo Bleckmann): Douce Dame Jolie

Douce dame jolie,
Pour dieu ne pensés mie
Que nulle ait signorie
Seur moy fors vous seulement.

Qu’adès sans tricherie
Chierie
Vous ay et humblement
Tous les jours de ma vie
Servie
Sans villain pensement.

Helas! et je mendie
D’esperance et d’aïe;
Dont ma joie est fenie,
Se pité ne vous en prent.

Mais vo douce maistrie
Maistrie
Mon cuer si durement
Qu’elle le contralie
Et lie
En amour tellement

Qu’il n’a de riens envie
Fors d’estre en vo baillie;
Et se ne li ottrie
Vos cuers nul aligement.

Et quant ma maladie
Garie
Ne sera nullement
Sans vous, douce anemie,
Qui lie
Estes de mon tourment,

A jointes mains deprie
Vo cuer, puis qu’il m’oublie,
Que temprement m’ocie,
Car trop langui longuement.

Trad: The Death of Queen Jane

No he trobat un text que s’ajusti al que canta Scholl en aquest concert, però us deixo el estàndard

Queen Jane lay in labor
Full nine days or more,
Till the women were so tired
They could stay no longer there;
Till the women were so tired
They could stay no longer there.

“Good women, good women,
Good women as ye be,
Do open my right side
And find my baby.”

“Oh no,” said the women,
“That may never be;
We will send for King Henry,
And hear what he say.”

King Henry was sent for,
King Henry he did come;
“What do ail you, my lady,
Your eyes look so dim?”

“King Henry, King Henry,
Will you do one thing for me?
That’s to open my right side
And find my baby.”

“Oh no,” said King Henry,
“That’s a thing I’ll never do!
If I lose the Flower of England,
I shall lose the branch too.”

Queen Jane she turned over
And she fell into a swoon,
And her side was piercéd open
And the baby was found.

King Henry went mourning
And so did all his men —
And so did the baby,
For Queen Jane did die then.

How deep was the mourning,
How black were all the bands
How yellow were the flamboys*
They carried in their hands.

There was fiddling and dancing
On the day that the babe was born
But poor Queen Jane beloved
Lay cold as a stone.

Sasha Argov – Shir Éress – ‘Lullaby’

שיר ערש
היכל ועיר נדמו פתע,
ונשתתקו שוקי פרס.
ורק אי שמה קלרינטה,
וקול כינור וקונטרבס,
מלחשים: אל תתלבטה,
ושקט, שקט הס.
אומנם רדפנו הבלים,
אבל הנה הראש הרכנו.
אם כתר הוא נושא או דלי,
אין שום הבדל בסוף יישן הוא.
והיי לי לו והיי לו לי,
והיי לי לנו לכולנו.
נום תפוח, נומה עץ,
נומה מלך, נומה לץ

נומו נהרות חוף,
נומו חצוצרות ותוף.
”אולי בכל זאת רבע עוף?”
לא, לא סוף.
כל רוגז וחמות וטורח,
ותאוות וחרוק שן,
עברו חלפו כעוברי אורח.
”שיעברו אני ישן“
גם שאלות לשאול אין צורך,
ואין תועלת אין.
רוב נגינות יש וצלילים,
אך שיר הערש שידענו,
ושנחבא אל הכלים,
רק הוא בסוף נשאר אתנו.
נשאר ושר הניחו לי,
הניחו לנו לכולנו.
נומי דרך, בא הקץ.
נומה מלך, בא הלץ.
נומו רוח ומפרש,
הירדמו תולדות פרס.
”שייכבו את הפנס“
כן, כן, הס.

Lullaby
The palace and the town fell silent.
The Persian market quiets down.
The voice of a distant clarinet sings
Alongside violin and bass.
They whisper, “hush, let go of pondering!”
Serene and silent calm.
A day spent chasing foolish things
Will end when we will let our head bow

And whether it carries a crown, a bucket,
Sleep will come to pass now.
And, oh, to you, and, oh, to me,
And, oh, to all of us, the tired!
Rest thou, apple, rest, tree,
Rest, my king, let the jester sleep.
Sleep, rivers and the banks,
Sleep, o trumpets, drums, and rest
“I’d love to have a chicken breast!”
No, no, rest….
All anger, fury, inconvenience,
Our lusts, and all our efforts gone,
Like passers-by they are all gone now.
“Well, let them pass, my sleep is sound!”
And no more questions left to ponder,
No use for brooding, none.
Though many melodies we know,
This lullaby we’ve known for longer,
So very shy it is, and modest, yet it
Will remain forever
Remains and sings—please, let me be
Please leave us all in peace and quiet.
Rest, oh road, the ends abound.
Rest my king, the jester’s ‘round.
Rest oh great wind, rest thee, sail.
Rest, great Persian fairy tales.
“Time for lights out, now, I say…”
Hush, sleep well.

Britten: Down by the Salley Gardens

Down by the Salley Gardens,
My love and I did meet.
She crossed the Salley Gardens
With little snow-white feet.
She Am bid me take love Em easy,
As the leaves grow on the tree,
But I was young and fool ish,
And with her did not agree.

In a field down by the river,
My love and I did stand
And on my leaning shoulder,
She laid her snow-white hand.
She bid me take life easy,
As the grass grows on the weirs
But I was young and foolish,
And now am full of tears.

Down by the Salley Gardens,
My love and I did meet.
She crossed the Salley Gardens
With little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy,
As the leaves grow on the tree,
But I was young and foolish,
And with her did not agree.

Britten: Greensleeves

Alas, my love, you do me wrong,
To cast me off discourteously.
For I have loved you well and long,
Delighting in your company.

Greensleeves was all my joy
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my lady greensleeves.

I have been ready at your hand,
To grant whatever you would crave,
I kept thee at both board and bed,
Which cost my purse well-favoredly.

Greensleeves was all my joy
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my lady greensleeves.

Britten: The Ash Grove

Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander,
When twilight is fading, I pensively rove,
Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander
Amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove.
‘Twas there while the blackbird was joyfully singing,
I first met my dear one, the joy of my heart;
Around us for gladness the bluebells were ringing,
Ah! then little thought I how soon we should part.

Still glows the bright sunshine o’er valley and mountain,
Still warbles the blackbird his note from the tree,
Still trembles the moonbeam on streamlet and fountain;
But what are the beauties of nature to me?
With sorrow, deep sorrow, my bosom is laden,
All day I go mourning in search of my love.
Ye echoes, O tell me, where is the sweet maiden?
She sleeps ‘neath the green turf down by the ash grove.

Trad (arr. Tamar Halperin): Black is the colour of my true love’s hair

But Black is the colour of my true love’s hair.
His face is like some rosy fair,
The prettiest face and the neatest hands,
I love the ground whereon he stands.
I love my love and well he knows,
I love the ground whereon he goes,
If you no more on earth I see,
I can’t serve you as you have me.

The winter’s passed and the leaves are green,
The time is passed that we have seen,
But still I hope the time will come
When you and I shall be as one.

I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep,
But satisfied I never could sleep.
I’ll write to you a few short lines,
I’ll suffer death ten thousand times.

So fare you well, my own true love
The time has passed, but I wish you well.
But still I hope the time will come
When you and I will be as one.

I love my love and well he knows,
I love the ground whereon he goes.
The prettiest face, the neatest hands,
I love the ground whereon he stands.

Trad (arr. Tamar Halperin): I will give my love an apple

I will give my love an apple without e’er a core
I will give my love a house without e’er a door,
I will give my love a palace wherein she may be,
But she may unlock it without any key.

My head is the apple without e’er a core,
My mind is the house without e’er a door.
My heart is the palace wherein she may be
And she may unlock it without any key.

Brahms: All mein Gedanken

All’ mein Gedanken, die ich hab,
die sind bei dir,
du auserwählter ein’ger Trost,
bleib’ stets bei mir.
Du, du, du sollst an mich gedenken,
hätt’ ich aller Wunsch Gewalt,
von dir wollt’ ich nicht wenken.
Du auserwählter ein’ger Trost,
gedenk’ daran,
Leib und Gut das sollst du ganz
zu eigen han.
Dein, dein, dein will ich bleiben,
du gibst mir Freud’ und hohen Mut
und kannst mir Leid vertreiben.

Die allerliebst und minniglich,
die ist so zart.
Ihres gleich in allem Reich
find’t man hart.
Bei dir, dir, dir ist kein Verlangen,
da ich von ihr scheiden sollt’,
da hätt’ sie mich umfangen.

Die werte Rein’, die ward sehr wein’n,
da das geschah,
du bist mein und ich bin dein,
sie traurig sprach.
Wann, wann, wann ich soll von dir weichen,
ich nie erkannt’ noch nimmermehr
erkenn’ ich dein geleichen.

Brahms: Da unten im Tale

Da unten im Tale
Läuft’s Wasser so trüb,
Und i kann dir’s net sagen,
I hab’ di so lieb.

Sprichst allweil von Liebe,
Sprichst allweil von Treu’,
Und a bissele Falschheit
Is auch wohl dabei.

Und wenn i dir’s zehnmal sag,
Daß i di lieb [und mag]¹,
Und du willst nit verstehn,
Muß i halt weitergehn.

Für die Zeit, wo du gliebt mi hast,
Da dank i dir schön,
Und i wünsch, daß dir’s anderswo
Besser mag gehn.

Brahms: In stiller Nacht

In stiller Nacht, zur ersten Wacht,
ein Stimm’ begunnt zu klagen,
der nächt’ge Wind hat süß und lind
zu mir den Klang getragen.
Von herben Leid und Traurigkeit
ist mir das Herz zerflossen,
die Blümelein, mit Tränen rein
hab’ ich sie all’ begossen.

Der schöne Mond will untergahn,
für Leid nicht mehr mag scheinen,
die Sterne lan ihr Glitzen stahn,
mit mir sie wollen weinen.
Kein Vogelsang noch Freudenklang
man höret in den Lüften,
die wilden Tier’ trauern auch mit mir
in Steinen und in Klüften.

Propina: Idan Reichel: In stiller Nacht

In stiller Nacht,
zur halben Wacht,
ein Stimm begunnt zu klagen, der nächtge Wind
hat süß und lind
zu mir den Klang getragen.
Von herbem Leid
und Traurigkeit
ist mir das Herz zerflossen, die Blümelein,
mit Tränen rein
hab ich sie all begossen.
Der schöne Mond
will untergon,
für Leid nicht mehr mag scheinen, die Sternelan
ihr Glitzen stahn,
mit mir sie wollen weinen.
Kein Vogelsang
noch Freudenklang
man höret in den Lüften, die wilden Tier
traur’n auch mit mir
in Felsen und in Klüften.
Wohin ich geh,
wohin mein Blick sich wend, stets begleit’ von meinen Sorgen ziehen mit bis an das End,
in dem Herzen tief verborgen.
Der schöne Mond
will untergon,
für Leid nicht mehr mag scheinen, die Sternelan
ihr Glitzen stahn,
mit mir sie wollen weinen.

In a quiet night
In the first watch
A voice began to complain
The night wind
Sweet and gentle
Carried the sound to me
From bitter sorrow
And sadness
My heart melted away
The little flowers
With pure tears
I watered them all
The beautiful moon
Wants to set
Not wanting to shine anymore
On the suffering
The stars
Stopped shining
They want to cry with me
No birds singing
Nor joyful sound
Can be heard in the air
The wild animals
Also grieving with me In rocks and crevices
Wherever I go
Wherever I turn my eyes
My worries will follow me
Haunting me ’til the end
Hidden deep in the heart
The beautiful moon
Wants to set
Not wanting to shine anymore
On the suffering
The stars
Stopped shining
They want to cry with me

PROGRAMA
Andreas Scholl (contratenor)
Tamar Halperin (piano)

Joseph Kilna MacKenzie: Sergeant MacKenzie
Randy Newman: In Germany Before the War
Chava Alberstein: Ikh shtey unter a Bokserboym
Machaut (arr.Theo Bleckmann): Douce Dame Jolie
Trad: The Death of Queen Jane
Leos Janacek: Our Evenings from On an Overgrown Path (piano sol)
Sasha Argov: Shir Éress – “Lullaby”

Benjamin Britten:
Down by the Salley Gardens
Greensleeves
The Ash Grove
Debussy: Jimbo’s Lullaby from Children’s Corner (piano sol)
Trad (arr. Tamar Halperin): Black is the colour of my true love’s hair
Trad (arr. Tamar Halperin): I will give my love an apple
Johannes Brahms:
All mein Gedanken
Da unten im Tale
In stiller Nacht

Propina: Idan Reichel: In stiller Nacht

Wigmore Hall, Londres 17 de novembre de 2014
ENLLAÇ mp3
https://mega.co.nz/#F!h1YTgbTQ!iDxEEVH3herHJ4Li8fJG5g

Gaudiu-lo