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Private Menagerie (2002) Performance: Carol Lundergan, soprano; Ed Lundergan, tenor; Susan Seligman, cello; James Fitzwilliam, piano The Tyger (by William Blake (1757-1827)) TheTyger.mp3 2:29
ThePanther.mp3 3:20 His tired gaze- from passing endless bars- His supple gait, the smoothness of long strides But sometimes the curtains of his eyelids part, Translation of text © 1983,
1985 from Rainer Marie Rilke: Selected Poems, translated by Albert Ernest
Flemming. Reproduced by permission of Routledge/Taylor & Francis Group,
LLC. TheMothsSerenade.mp3 1:26 Porch Porch light, light, hear my plight! hear my plight! I drink your light like nectar like nectar Dream of you by day by day Gaze in your eyes all night all night Porch light! Porch light! Bright paradise! I am I am your seeking circling seeking sighing circling lovesick sighing knight You are You are my soul’s my soul’s desire desire my prize my prize my eye’s delight Porch light! Porch light! My shining star! My compass needle’s North! “Keep back,” they say “Keep back,” they say I can’t! “Don’t touch,” they say “Don’t touch,” they say I must! Porch light! Porch light! Let’s clasp Let’s kiss Let’s kiss Let’s clasp Let’s marry for a trice! Let’s marry for a trice! Porch light! Porch light! Let’s meet Let’s merge Let’s merge Let’s meet Let’s live for love! For light! For light! (Used by permission of the author) The three songs in “Private Menagerie” are scored for two voices, cello and piano. I chose to write for two voices because I enjoy the complexities of harmony and counterpoint that are possible with multiple voices. The cello adds a rich layer of sonority that is not possible with just voice and piano. The three songs have no particular connection to one another, other than their scoring and the fact that they are all about animals. In “The Tyger,” I have attempted to represent the awe and ambivalence with which Blake views the coexistence of innocence and experience in the world. The pizzicato cello summons the heart of the dread beast; tentatively, the voices join. With the piano’s entry, the piece grows in sonority. There are actually two climaxes. In the first, the singers, supported by a soaring cello line, wonder “What dread grasp dare its deadly terrors clasp?” The second climax, the emotional pivot of the song, arrives with the answer to the question, “Did he who make the lamb make thee?”: the key changes, suddenly and without warning. The question is repeated, as in the beginning: what kind of being could frame this “fearful symmetry”? The pizzicato cello, now playing double stops, once again beats as a heart. The piano calls softly... tyger...tyger... “Panther” is about another sort of animal; this is a captive, whose life is spent in pacing a small cage. There is no fearful symmetry here, only boredom and broken hopes. An ostinato cello is joined by a nervously pacing piano. Except for the center section, when the cello abandons the ostinato to join the voices in celebrating the supple movements of the panther, the instruments play essentially the same line throughout, outlining and embellishing the changing chords. The music fades quietly, along with any hope that might linger in the panther’s heart. “The Moth’s Serenade” is from Paul Fleischman’s excellent
book, Joyful Noise: Poems for Two Voices. Marketed as a children’s book
(but widely appreciated by adults) these poems, all about insects, are written
to be read by two people at once, sometimes in unison, sometimes by one voice
alone, sometimes with two different lines read simultaneously. “The Moth’s
Serenade” portrays the ecstasy of a moth’s fatal attraction to a porch light.
With a few exceptions I have remained true to the original shape of the poem, as
to solos and simultaneous exclamations. The cello and piano flit about nervously
as the voices describe the moth’s devotion to the light. As the moth’s
attraction grows in intensity, so does the music. The ecstatic declarations
reach an emotional climax sure to end in tragedy. |