Charles IVES Les mélodies

Travailler à la critique de l'édition Naxos de l'intégrale des Mélodies de Charles Ives m'avait demandé un gros effort. L'abondance des chanteurs et pianistes, parfois diversement doués, et le principe même d'une présentation alphabétique (parfois biaisé par la prise en considération ou non des articles A et The, les On discutables et l'omission dans certains de From qui désigne explicitement les textes traités en extraits tels From "the Swimmers" ) ne rendait pas aisé de tenter de présenter une synthèse propre à chaque volume. Faute d'avoir pu obtenir le tout j'avais dû financer moi-même un tiers des CD, car je pensais qu'il n'était pas raisonnable de se lancer dans une critique partielle du corpus.

Etant donné que pas mal d'eau a coulé sous les ponts depuis, je ne suis de nouveau plus très au fait des détails, et dois m'en remettre à mes articles d'époque en espérant que j'avais vu à peu près juste, même si le format ne permettait de brosser qu'un portrait relativement succinct de la série... J'ai essayé de retrouver tous les textes, mêmes ceux qui ne sont pas référencés par les sites habituels (comme The Antipodes pourtant essentiel pour une bonne compréhension des directions neuves que prenait la pensée d'Ives dans les années 20).





Ives : mélodies en kit, mais sans mode d’emploi

C’est une entreprise courageuse de se lancer dans la publication d’une intégrale des mélodies de Charles Ives: d’abord parce qu’en plus des 114 “songs” publiées par l’auteur, on en compte actuellement plus de 200, et leur nombre augmente à mesure qu’on recense les fragments, ensuite par le procédé même choisi par Naxos, la présentation, par ordre alphabétique de titres, d’un corpus très divers s’étendant sur plus d’une trentaine d’années de composition, qui implique le recours à un grande variété de chanteurs, de pianistes, et d’autres instrumentistes. Disons-le d’emblée, quelles que soient les réserves qu’on peut faire sur ce travail, la parution de cette collection représente un outil de référence irremplaçable et nécessaire à toutes les bibliothèques, même s’il n’est pas certain que le public francophone se précipite pour l’acquérir.

Sur l’ordre adopté qui peut paraître curieux, le producteur Andrew Lang explique qu’il s’agissait de l’unique moyen d’être assuré que chaque volume contienne une part des mélodies les plus connues et les plus importantes. Même si, comme dans le cas de ce premier volume le système paraît pris en défaut (il y a tout de même Ann Street, At the River et Charlie Rutlage), un autre classement eût été un casse tête, à cause de la multiplicité des poètes représentés, des langues (anglais, français, allemand, italien) et de la variabilité et des repentirs des cycles envisagés par l’auteur. Une édition chronologique en quatre volumes a été tentée par Albany Records, mais il est difficile de se procurer les disques, et elle apparaît moins complète que cette nouvelle tentative qui provient du sanctuaire –où se trouve l’essentiel des partitions d’Ives et donc des recherches-, puisque les sessions d’enregistrement ont eu lieu en 2005 à l’Université de Yale. On se rendra compte à l’écoute que la démarche, avec ce qu’elle comporte d’aléatoire et de disparate, offre un résultat de collage dynamique finalement très conforme à la pensée d’Ives et d’une variété qui rend agréable une écoute continue, même si l’on n’a aucune idée de ce qui s’y dit.

En effet, écueil supplémentaire, les disques comportent un livret plus édifiant sur les interprètes que sur les œuvres, et surtout, les textes, souvent essentiels, ne sont pas fournis. Pour pallier cette absence Naxos a recouru à une documentation sur le web, qui ne présente non seulement aucune traduction, mais n’est qu’un florilège des lieder contenus dans chaque volume, choisis en fonction d’on ne sait trop quels critères, ceux des droits probablement.

Pour ce premier volume, on consultera :
http://www.naxos.com/PDF/8.559269_sungtext.pdf
On peut se référer pour une partie des textes omis au site:
http://www.recmusic.org/lieder/i/ives.html
et pour ne plus y revenir, pour toute l’œuvre d’Ives –par ordre alphabétique aussi-(premières mesures, références et description des manuscrits comme des premières occurrences en salle et au disque)
http://webtext.library.yale.edu/xml2html/music/ci-d.htm
moyennant quoi l’immersion dans les arcanes de l’œuvre ne devrait plus poser de problèmes.

S'est ajouté aujourd'hui au site de Yale un document pdf donnant description et notes de l'édition des 129 songs
http://www.charlesives.org/critical_commentary/Ives%20129%20Songs.pdf

L’ensemble de ces mélodies et des liens qu’elles entretiennent avec les hymnes et musiques traditionnelles constituent le noyau autour duquel s’articule et se développe toute la production d’Ives. Certains lieder, souvent issus de mélodies plus anciennes, détruites ou perdues contiennent en germe des compositions à venir, d’autres sont adaptées d’œuvres préexistantes aujourd’hui plus connues (la magnifique harmonisation décalée du traditionnel At the River, qu’on retrouve dans la 4è sonate pour violon, The Camp Meeting, condensé du final de la symphonie n°3, The Cage pour les Sets for theater, dont on ne sait pas s’il s’agit d’une réduction ou d’une première version écrite « en direct », avec le texte improvisé qui l’accompagne). Le hasard des titres permet aussi de comparer les évolutions entre deux mélodies présentant un tronc commun mais des textes et des déroulements divergents (Canon I et II).

On découvre Ives dans l’intimité familiale, mettant en musique les textes de sa femme Harmony, arrangeant avec quelques notes de glockenspiel et des accord brisés au piano un cantique de Noël de sa fille adoptive Edith, choisissant les mots d’une berceuse de sa lointaine cousine Augusta, écrivant lui-même pour ses amis des morceaux de salon romantiques. On le trouve à l’église (le début de la cantate de 1897, Country Celestial) autant que dans la parodie des hymnes dans le tardif The Collection pour deux sopranos accompagnées à l’orgue, avec « réponse des villageois ». Déjà se dessinent quelques véritables scènes de cet opéra qu’Ives a souvent rêvé et jamais écrit, comme dans The Children Hour (où se distingue la mezzo Leah Wool, excellente également dans Afterglow), The All-enduring, ou le très étonnant Aeschyllus and Sophocles, qui fait intervenir un quatuor à cordes « distant », très représentatif de l’idée de spatialisation qui habite les dernières compositions d’Ives.

Parmi les quatre pianistes, il est difficile d’établir une hiérarchie, Eric Trudel est le plus sollicité mais c’est à J.J.Penna et Douglas Dickson que semblent échoir les pièces les plus difficiles et les plus valorisantes. Les voix masculines paraissent tirer plus facilement leur épingle du jeu dans cette première série, mais peut-être est-ce que les mélodies les plus frappantes leur sont destinées (Autumn ou Allegro mis à part). Il faut noter la présence originale d’un contre-ténor tout à fait bienvenu dans le Christmas Carol de 1894 et At Sea de 1921. Le baryton Robert Gardner est très impressionnant dans les Chansons de rue (The Cage et The Circus Band), même si c’est à la puissante voix de basse de Patrick Carfizzi et à son accent western dans Charlie Rutlage que revient la palme de l’adéquation avec le texte. Sa version est supérieure à tout ce qui existe, que ce soit Hampson, Finley ou Susan Graham. Carfizzi est le premier à chanter dans le trop bref 1,2,3 (« Pourquoi est-ce qu’un, deux, trois ne plaît-il pas tant à un Yankee que un, deux ? » texte unique de la mélodie d’ouverture, très typique du style complexe et pince sans rire d’Ives).

Il se dégage de ce disque l’image d’une modernité lentement apprivoisée, d’un parcours qui commence avec l’imitation de Brahms et les mélodies d’Amy Beach, pour se fondre dans un style d’une liberté sans équivalent avant les années 50, faisant des détours par tous les clichés obligés de l’Amérique, mais déformés, et dont les restes deviennent les pierres angulaires d’une reconstruction visionnaire, naïve, impressionniste et savante à la fois.
Peut-être faut-il insister un peu au départ pour s’imprégner des couleurs de cet univers, mais une fois qu’on y a pénétré, il est probable qu’on voudra se procurer d’urgence les cinq autres volumes de la collection.
--------------------------------------------------
1CD Naxos 8.559269 74’52
Charles Ives Songs, volume 1 (de 6) : de A à C
Lielle Berman, Jennifer Casey Cabot, Sara Jakubiak, sopranos
Tamara Munford, Mary Philips, Leah Wool, mezzos
Matthew Plenk, Kenneth Tarver, Ian Howell, tenors
Patrick Carfizzi, Michael Cavalieri, Robert Gardner, David Pittsinger, barytons
Biava string quartet Frederick Teardo, orgue
Eric Trudel, Laura Garritson, J.J. Penna, Douglas Dickson, piano
Enregistré au Sprague Hall de l’Université de Yale de mai à juin 2005


1 1,2,3,

Why doesn't one, two, three
seem to appeal to a Yankee
as much as one, two!

Charles Ives


2 Abide with me

Abide with me! Fast falls the eventide,
The darkness deepens—Lord, with me abide!
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O, abide with me!
I need Thy presence ev’ry passing hour,
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be?
Thro’ cloud and sunshine, O, abide with me!
Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies;
Heav’n’s morning breaks and earth’s vain shadows flee.
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!

Henry Francis Lyte (1793-1847)


3 Aeschylus and Sophocles

(Sophocles)
“We also have our pest of them which buzz
About our honey, darken it, and sting;
We laugh at them, for under hands like ours,
Without the wing that Philoctetes shook,
One single feather crushes the whole swarm.
I must be grave. Hath Sicily such, charms
Above our Athens? Many charms hath she,
But she hath kings.
Accursed be the race!”

(Aeschylus) “But where kings honour better men than they,
Let kings be honoured too.
The laurel crown Surmounts the golden; wear it, and farewell’

Walter Savage Landor (1775-1864)


4 Afterglow

At the quiet close of day
Gently yet the willows sway;
When the sunset light is low,
Lingers still the afterglow.
Beauty tarries loth to die,
Every lightest fantasy
Lovelier grows in memory,
Where the truer beauties lie.

James Fenimore Cooper, Jr. (1892-1918)


5 Allegro

By morning's brightest beams,
my heart lightest seems,
For in my waking thoughts gay hopes do shine;
Before me lies the day,
and ere it dies away,
Who knows what may be mine!
So straight I leave my night's abode
to fare upon the day's long road
and think with rapture ere sun's decline
What may be mine!

By evening's pale gleam,
still the fancies teem,
And on my resting,
new hopes I see;
Before me lies the night,
and ere the morning light,
These hopes may come to me!
So straight I leave my day's abode
to fare upon the night's long road
again with rapture greet I the sunshine
And what may be mine!

Harmony Twitchell (Mrs Ives)


6 The All enduring

Man passes down the way of years,
And ruins mark his trail;
He buildeth and the hand of time
Wipes out his structures frail.

Upon the graves of greatness past
New monuments are placed,
And they in turn by fleeting years
Are ruthlessly effaced.

His hopes, ambitions, loves and hates,
Endure but a single day,
Then by the ever-busy hand of time,
All are swept away.

His glory shineth for a space,
And spreads its light, its brilliant light,
Then fades, then fades,
Into eternal night.

Thrones crumble, fall and are no more,
And nations grand decay,
And power sinks to nothingness,
And wealth abideth but a day.

But to the world no worthy deed,
No worthy thought is ever lost.
Fame from its lofty pedestal
Disdainfully is tost,
But to the world no worthy deed
Or thought is ever lost.

unidentified author


7 Amphion

The mountain stirr’d its bushy crown,
And, as tradition teaches,
Young ashes pirouetted down
Coquetting with young beeches.
And shepherds from the mountain-eaves
Look’d down, half-pleased, half-frightehd,
As dash’d about the drunken leaves
The random sunshine lighten’d.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)


8 Ann Street

Quaint name, Ann street.
Width of same, ten feet.
Barnums mob - Ann street,
Far from obsolete.

Narrow, yes. Ann street,
But business, both feet.
(Nassau crosses Ann Street)
Sun just hits Ann street,
Then it quits - some greet!
Rather short, Ann street...

Maurice Morris


9 At parting

5. At Parting
Text: 5. At Parting
Text: Frederic Peterson

The sweetest flow’r that blows,
I give you as we part,
For you it is a rose,
for me it is my heart,
To you it is a rose,
to me it is my heart.

The fragrance it exhales, Ah!
If you but only knew,
where but in dying fails
it is my love for you.

The sweetest flow’r that blows,
I give you as we part,
You think it but a rose,
Ah! me it is my heart,
You think it but a rose,
Ah! me it is my heart.

Frederic Peterson


10 At Sea

Some things are undivined except by love—
Vague to the mind, but real to the heart,
As is the point of yon horizon line
Nearest the dear one on a foreign shore.

Robert Underwood Johnson (1853-1937)


11 At the River

Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod,
With its crystal tide for ever
Flowing by the throne of God?
(Gather at the river?)
Yes, we’ll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river;
Yes, we’ll gather at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
(Shall we gather, shall we gather at the river?)

Robert Lowry (1826-1899) [with changes by Charles Ives]


12 August

For August, be your dwelling thirty towers
Within an Alpine valley mountainous,
Where never the sea-wind may vex your house,
But clear life separate, like a star, be yours.
There horses shall wait saddled at all hours,
That ye may mount at morn or at eve:
On each hand either ridge ye shall, perceive,
A mile apart, which soon a good beast scours.
So always, drawing homewards, ye shall tread
Your valley parted by a rivulet
Which day and night shall flow sedate and smooth.
There all through noon ye may possess the shade,
And there your open purses shall entreat
The best of Tuscan cheer to feed your youth.

Folgore da San Gimignano (ca. 1275-before 1332), translation by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)


13 Autumn

Earth rests! Her work is done, her fields lie bare,
and 'ere the night of winter comes
to hush her song and close her tired eyes,
She turns her face for the sun to smile upon
and radiantly, radiantly, thro' Fall's bright glow,
he smiles and brings the Peace of God!

Harmony Twitchell


14 Because of you

What have you done for me, dear one,
With eyes so true?
This grim old world looks golden bright
Because of you.
What have you done for me, dear heart,
With lips so true?
The words of others kindly seem
Because of you.
What have you done for me, dear heart,
With hands so true?
The clasp of others heartfelt feels
Because of you.
Queen of my heart and Queen of Queens
With love so true,
The years would drag with leaden feet
Wer't not for you.

unidentified author


15 Because Thou art

My life has grown so dear to me
Because of thee.
My maiden with the eyes demure
And quiet mouth and forehead pure,
Joy makes a summer in my heart,
Because thou art.
The very winds melodious be
Because of thee.
The rose is sweeter for thy sake,
The waves in softer music break,
On brighter wings the swallows dart,
Because thou art.
Joy makes a summer in my heart,
On brighter wings the swallows dart,
All things in my delight have part,
Because thou art.

unidentified author


16 Berceuse

O'er the mountain toward the west,
as the children go to rest,
Faintly comes a sound,
a song of nature hovers round,
'Tis the beauty of the night;
Sleep thee well till morning light.

Charles Ives


17 The Cage

A leopard went around his cage
from one side back to the other side;
he stopped only when the keeper came around with meat;
A boy who had been there three hours
began to wonder, "Is life anything like that?"

Charles Ives


18 The camp meeting

Across the summer meadows fair,
there comes a song of fervent prayer,
It rises radiantly o'er the world,
Exulting, exulting, in the power of God!
Exalting Faith in life above
but humbly, yielding, yielding to His Love.
Just as I am without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidd'st me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

Charles Eliott


19 Canon I

Not only in my lady’s eyes
Do I her beauty find,
All the lore that poets prize
Is garnered in her mind.

She is the soul of all I sing,
For though to me belong
The pipe, the shell, the string,
And she herself is the song.

There is no wisdom in my word,
No music in my lay,
Save what I’ve sweetly heard
My lady sing or say.

unknown author


20 Canon II

Oh! the days are gone, when beauty bright
My heart’s chain wove;
When my dream of life, from morn till night,
Was love, still love!
New hope may bloom, and days may come,
Of milder, calmer beam,
But there’s nothing half so sweet in life
As love’s young dream!

Thomas Moore (1779-1852)


21 Chanson de Florian

Ah! s’il est dans votre village
Un berger sensible et charmant,
Qu’on chérisse au premier moment,
Qu’on aime ensuite davantage,
Ah! c’est mon ami, rendez-le moi!
J’ai son amour, il a ma foi!

Si passant près de sa chaumière
Le pauvre, en voyant son troupeau,
Ose demander un agneau,
Et qu’il obtienne encor la mère,
Oh! c’est bien lui, Oh! rendez-le moi!
Si par sa voix tendre et plaintive
Il charme l’écho de vos bois,
Si les accents de son hautbois
Rendent la bergère pensive,
Oh! c’est encor lui, rendez-le moi!
J’ai son amour, il a ma foi!

Jean Pierre Claris de Florian (1755-1794)


22 Charlie Rutlage

Another good cowpuncher has gone to meet his fate,
I hope he'll find a resting place, within the golden gate.
Another place is vacant on the ranch of the X I T,
'Twill be hard to find another that's liked as well as he.
The first that died was Kid White, a man both tough and brave,
While Charlie Rutlage makes the third to be sent to his grave,
Caused by a cowhorse falling, while running after stock;
'Twas on the spring round up, a place where death men mock,
He went forward one morning on a circle through the hills,
He was gay and full of glee, and free from earthly ills;
But when it came to finish up the work on which he went,
Nothing came back from him; his time on earth was spent.
'Twas as he rode the round up, a XIT turned back to the herd;
Poor Charlie shoved him in again, his cutting horse he spurred;
Another turned; at that moment his horse the creature spied
And turned and fell with him, beneath poor Charlie died,
His relations in Texas his face never more will see,
But I hope he'll meet his loved ones beyond in eternity,
I hope he'll meet his parents, will meet them face to face,
And that they'll grasp him by the right hand at the shining throne of grace.

trad collected by Lomax


23 The Children’s Hour

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day’s occupations
That is known as Children’s Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.
From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.
Between the dark and daylight,
Comes a pause that is known as Children’s Hour.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)


24 Christmas Carol, Edie's

Come away to the manger
Our Lord Christ to see.
Most sweet, fair and holy
Of all babes is he.
Come away, come away
To see the dear child,
Whose face is so tender,
Gentle and mild.

Shepherds come and him worship
As he lies in his bed,
And even fair Mary
Doth bow her sweet head.
Come away, come away
To see the dear child,
Whose face is so tender,
Gentle and mild.

Then in walk the wise men
Our Lordship to see,
With gold, myrrh and incense
And give Christ all three.
Come away, come away
To see the dear child,
Whose face is so tender,
Gentle and mild.

All worship Christ then
In the morning so dim.
We also must kneel
And thank God for him.
Come away, come away
To see the dear child,
Whose face is so tender,
Gentle and mild.

Edith Ives (Charle's adopted daughter)

25 A Christmas Carol

Little star of Bethlehem!
Do we see Thee now?
Do we see Thee shining
O'er the tall trees?
Little Child of Bethlehem!
Do we hear thee in our hearts?
Hear the Angels singing:
Peace on earth, good will to men!
Noel!

O'er the cradle of a King,
Hear the Angels sing:
In Excelsis Gloria, Gloria!
From his Father's home on high,
Lo! for us He came to die;
Hear the Angels sing:
Venite adoremus Dominum.

Charles Ives

26 The Cirus Band (from 5 street songs)

All summer long, we boys
dreamed 'bout big circus joys!
Down Main street, comes the band,
Oh! "Aint it a grand and glorious noise!"

Horses are prancing, knights advancing;
Helmets gleaming, pennants streaming,
Cleopatra's on her throne!
That golden hair is all her own.

Where is the lady all in pink?
Last year she waved to me I think,
Can she have died? Can! that! rot!
She is passing but she sees me not.

Charles Ives


27 The Collection

Now help us, Lord, Thy yoke to wear,
and joy to do Thy will;
Each other's burdens gladly bear,
And love's sweet law fulfill.

O hasten, Lord, the promised days,
When all the nations shall rejoice;
And Jew and Gentile join in praise,
With one united voice!

Charles ives


28 Country Celestial

For thee, O dear, dear Country,
Mine eyes their vigils keep:
For very love, beholding Thy happy name, thy happy name, they weep.
The mention of thy glory Is unction to the breast,
Balm in time of sickness,
And love, and life, and love, and life, and rest.
With jasper glow thy bulwarks,
Thy streets with em’ralds blaze;
The sardius and the topaz
Unite in thee, unite in thee their rays;
Thine ageless walls are bonded
With amethyst unpriced;
Saints built up its fabric, T
he cornerstone, the cornerstone is Christ.
Oh sweet and blessed Country
The home of God’s elect!
Oh sweet and blessed Country
That eager hearts, that eager hearts expect!
O Jesus, in mercy bring us
To that dear land of rest;
Thou art, with God the Father,
And Spirit blest, and Spirit ever blest.

John Mason Neale (1818-1866), based on Bernard of Cluny


29 Cradle Song

Hush thee, dear child, to slumbers;
We will sing softest numbers;
Naught thy sleeping encumbers.
Summer is slowly dying;
Autumnal winds are sighing;
Faded leaflets are flying.
Brightly the willows quiver;
Peacefully flows the river;
So shall love flow forever.

Augusta L. Ives (1802-1864)

Ives de D à G : un pas de Géant dans la Discographie des mélodies

Le volume 2 de l’intégrale des mélodies d’Ives contient quelques titres essentiels. Il offre aussi des révélations concernant des lieder moins connus, dont certains n’ont été que très rarement enregistrés, quoique six appartiennent à la dernière période de maturité du compositeur (qui cesse de composer vers 1927). Si l’on ne se laisse pas arrêter par la distribution un peu étrange des deux premiers morceaux, l’intérêt va croissant malgré le principe formel de l’ordre alphabétique.

On fait connaissance avec de nouveaux chanteurs (Janna Baty, Heather Buck, Sumi Kittelberger) l’image de certains qui intervenaient peu précédemment se précise (Tamara Mumford, Leah Wool) même si ce n’est pas toujours à leur avantage, en ce qui concerne par exemple le ténor Matthew Plenk dont l’émission est assez criarde et le vibrato instable, si toutefois c’est bien lui qui chante les plages 2 et 11, car, pour en finir tout de suite avec les choses qui fâchent, le livret lui attribue de façon erronée la plage 10. Les textes recensés par le site de Naxos, plus nombreux que pour le volume 1, comportent des erreurs d’orthographe, particulièrement les textes allemands, mais substituent aussi pour la mélodie Eyes so dark, chantée en anglais et composée simultanément dans les deux langues, le texte original de Lenau, au lieu de sa traduction anglaise.
http://www.naxos.com/sharedfiles/PDF/8.559270_sungtext.pdf

Dans l’ensemble, on distingue avec ce volume assez clairement les éléments qui rattachent Ives à la tradition européenne, non seulement par la présence de plus de cinq mélodies allemandes (deux sur des textes de Heine) influencées par les originaux de Brahms, Schumann ou Mendelssohn (Grüss), mais aussi la reprise française de l’Elégie de Louis Gallet (mise en musique par Massenet) ainsi que par les citations d’un thème de la symphonie de Franck dans The Ending Year, ou de Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune dans Grantchester, jusqu’à quelques échos de chevauchée rossinienne dans The Greatest Man. Plus encore, Forward Into Light, adapté de la cantate Celestial Country semble une imitation de fioritures baroques, et Friendship aurait pu dans les grandes lignes sortir de la plume de Schubert.

Les chanteurs ne sont pas forcément plus convaincants dans ces imitations de la tradition européenne qu’un Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau que d’aucuns trouvaient à l’époque hors-style dans sa sélection de mélodies d’Ives enregistrées avec Michael Ponti. Sa version d’Elégie (une première) est beaucoup plus cohérente et consistante que celle de Leah Wool, où l’on se perd presque autant que dans celle de Gerald Finley -dont la diction était malgré tout meilleure. Même dans des mélodies plus caractéristiques du style final d’Ives, comme Disclosure (assez raté ici par Matthew Plenk) ou A Farewell to Land (très réussi à l’inverse par Leah Wool) où il jouait de sa voix de tête, Dieskau était finalement plus à l’aise que les chanteurs du cru.

On perçoit la continuité avec le volume précédent, par exemple dans le fait d’avoir confié à Robert Gardner Down East, groupé au sein du cycle des 5 chansons de rues auquel appartenait aussi The Circus Band. Down East, composée ne 1919, constitue d’ailleurs une des pièces les plus importantes de ce disque par la citation directe qu’elle fait du choral Bethany qu’on retrouve de façon obsessionnelle dans la 4è symphonie et les dernières œuvres d’Ives. On peut comparer le travail des pianistes dans Country Celestial du volume 1 joué par Eric Trudel, et Du bist die Blume, puisque la musique est exactement la même (sans la reprise), ici moins joliment ciselé par Douglas Dickson, mais plus vibrant, direct et viril. Pour mesurer l’évolution du lied, il faudra attendre en revanche le volume 6 et When Stars Are in the Quiet Skies.

L’intérêt de ce disque doit beaucoup au pianiste Douglas Dickson, au baryton Michael Cavalieri et à la basse David Pittsinger, déjà remarqué en quatre occurrences précédemment mais dans des chansons de salon moins essentielles. Cavalieri grave le plus émouvant Feldeinsamkeit de toute la discographie, son Grantchester est d’une lisibilité sans pareille, et son talent de comédien éclate dans The Greatest Man (mélodie de 1921 où Ives rend un hommage nostalgique et enfantin à son père). Pittsinger, déjà exceptionnel avec Trudel dans l’hymne universitaire Flag Song donne avec Dickson la version de référence tant attendue de General Booth Enters into Heaven que Nathan Gunn, avec plus de discrétion approchait dans son « récital de débuts » : on oublie facilement la fade version orchestrale (supervisée par Ives mais qui n’est pas de sa main), comme l’approche trop timide de Thomas Hampson. Tout le « transport de gloire » évoqué par Ives, toute l’ironie et le théâtre sont présents, et le timbre est splendide.

A l’opposé des versions historiques de Marni Nixon (qui fut la voix de Mary Poppins et de la Maria de West Side Story), excellente diseuse dont les enregistrements restent éminemment valides, même s’ils se rapprochent de Kurt Weill et Broadway, Cavalieri et Pittsinger donnent un relief inattendu à la deuxième moitié de ce disque, qui grâce à eux prend le pas sur le volume précédent et s’inscrit dans le trio de tête de la discographie des mélodies d’Ives, relançant l’impatience d’entrer en contact avec la suite.
-------------------------------------------
1 CD Naxos 8.559270 67’37
Charles Ives Songs, volume 2 (de 6)
Lielle Berman, Heather Buck, Jennifer Cabot, Sara Jakubiak, Sumi Kittelberger, sopranos
Janna Baty, Tamara Mumford, Mary Philips, Leah Wood, mezzos
Matthew Plenk, Kenneth Tarver, ténors
Michael Cavalieri, Robert Gardner, David Pittsinger, barytons
Frederick Teardo, orgue
Eric Trudel, Laura Garritson, J.J. Penna, Douglas Dickson, piano
Enregistré au Sprague Hall de l’Université de Yale de mai à juin 2005



1 December

Last, for December, houses on the plain,
Ground-floors to live on, logs heaped mountain-high,
Carpets stretched, and newest games to try,
Torches lit, and gifts from man to man:
(Your host, a drunkard and a Catalan);
And whole dead pigs, and cunning cooks to ply
Each throat with tit-bits that satisfy;
And wine-butts of Saint Galganus' brave span.
And be your coats well lined and tightly bound,
And wrap yourselves in cloaks of strength and weight,
With gallant hoods to put your faces through.
And make your game of abject vagabond
Abandoned miserable reprobate
Misers; don't let them have a chance with you.

Folgore da San Gimignano (ca.1275-before 1332), translation by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)


2 Disclosure

Thoughts, which deeply rest at evening,
at sunrise gayly thrilled the mind;
Songs whose beauty now only lies in memory
Youth would sing with rapture,
sing from joyous bouyant impulse
Knowing naught but he was singing,
Thus would God reveal the range of Soul!

Charles Ives


3 Down East (five street songs)

Songs! Visions of my homeland,
come with strains of childhood,
Come with tunes we sang in school days
and with songs from mother's heart;
Way down east in a village by the sea,
stands an old, red farm house
that watches o'er the lea;
All that is best in me,
lying deep in memory,
draws my heart where I would be,
nearer to thee.
Ev'ry Sunday morning,
when the chores were almost done,
from that little parlor
sounds the old melodeon,
"Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee,"
With those strains a stronger hope
comes nearer to me.

Charles Ives


4 Dreams

When twilight comes with shadows drear,
I dream of thee, dear one;
And grows my soul so dark and sad,
Sad as shadows drear. They tell me not to grieve, love,
For thou wilt come; But Oh!
I cannot tell why I fear their words are false:
I dream of thee, love! And thou art near till I awake.
When I look back on happier days,
My eyes are filled with tears; I see thee then in visions plain,
So true, so full of love. But now I fear to ask them If thou art alive;
They tell me not to grieve, love!
For thou wilt come at last: I dream of thee, love!
And thou art near till I awake.

Translation from Baroness Porteous via Anton Strelezki (1859-1907)


5 Du alte Mutter

Du alte Mutter, bist so arm,
Und schaffst im Schweiss we Blut,
Doch immer noch ist's Herz dir warm
Und du gabst mir den starken Arm
Und diesen wilden Mut.

Du wischtest ab die Träne mein,
War's mir im Herzen bang,
Und küßtest mich den Knaben dein,
Und hauchtest in die Brust hinein
Den siegesfrohen Sang.

Du gabst mir, was beseligt mich,
Das weiche Herz das Herz dazu;
Drum Alte will ich lieben dich,
Wohin mein Fuß auch richtet sich,
Wohl sonder Rast und Ruh.
Mutter, Mutter, Mutter.

Aasmund Olafsson Vinje (1818-1870)

Toi, vielle mère tu trimes misérablement,
tant que ta sueur est comme du sang,
Pourtant avec ton cœur chaleureux
tu m'as donné et un bras puissant,
et un courage farouche.

Tu as séché les larmes de mes joues
en maintes sévères occasions,
et m'as embrassé comme ton petit garçon
et m'as soufflé dans le cœur
mon chant de victoire.

Ô toi qui es vieille, tu m'as donné
mon cœur tendre,
et pour cela je t'aime,
où que mène mon chemin,
au gré de mes pas.


6 Du bist wie eine Blume

Du bist wie eine Blume
So hold und schön und rein:
Ich schau’ dich an, und Wehmut
Schleicht mir ins Herz,
Schleicht mir ins Herz hinein.

Mir ist, als ob ich die Hände
Aufs Haupt dir legen sollt’,
Betend, Gott dich erhalte
So rein und schön,
So rein und schön und hold.

Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)


7 Élégie

O doux printemps d'autrefois,
Vertes saisons,
Vous avez fui pour toujours!
Je ne vois plus le ciel bleu,
Je n'entends plus les chants joyeux des oiseaux,
En emportant mon bonheur.
O bien aimé, tu t'en es allé,
Et c'est en vain que le printemps revient!
Oui, sans retour, avec toi le gai soleil,
Les jours riants sont partis!
Comme en mon coeur tout est sombre et glacé!
Tout est flétri! Pour toujours!

Louis Gallet (1835-1898)


8 The Ending Year

Frail autumn lights on the leaves
Beacon the ending year, the ending year,
Winds and rain are here,
Bleak nights are here, blowing winds are here,
Bleak nights are here, blowing winds are here,
blowing winds about the eaves, about the eaves.
Here in the valley mists begin

To breathe about the riverside
The breath of Autumn-tide;
And dark fields now wait to take the harvest in.
And you, and you are far away,
Ah! this it is, Ah! this it is,
Ah! This takes the light from the day,
Ah! This takes the light from the day.

Unknown author


9 Evening

Now came still evening on, and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad;
Silence accompanied, for the beast and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests
Were slunk, but the wakeful nightingale;
She all night long her amorous descant sung;
Silence is pleased. . . .

John Milton (1608-1674)


10 Evidence

There comes o'er the valley a shadow,
the hilltops still are bright;
There comes o'er the hilltop a shadow,
the mountain's bathed in light;
There comes o'er the mountain a shadow,
but the sun ever shines thro' the night!

Charles Ives

11 Weil' auf mir (Eyes so dark)

Weil' auf mir, du dunkles Auge,
Übe deine ganze Macht,
Ernste, milde [träumerische]1,
Unergründlich süße Nacht.
Nimm mit deinem Zauberdunkel
Diese Welt von hinnen mir,
Daß du über meinem Leben
Einsam schwebest für und für.

Stay with me, endarkened vision,
exercise your fullest might,
solemn, gentle, dream-abundant,
bottomlessly precious night.
Let your somber magic's cover
shield me from this earthly shore,
high above my life to hover:
lone for ever, evermore.

Nikolaus Lenau (1802-1850)



12 Far From My Heav’nly Home

Far from my heav’nly home,
Far from my Father’s breast,
Fainting, I cry, blest Spirit, come, blest Spirit, come Blest Spirit come
And guide me to my rest, and guide me to my rest.
My spirit homeward turns,
And fain would thither flee;
My heart, O Zion, droops and yearns
When I remember thee.
My heart, O Zion, droops and yearns,
When I remember thee,
My heart, O Zion, droops and yearns,
When I remember thee.
To thee I press
A dark and toilsome road.
When shall I pass, when shall I pass the wilderness, the wilderness
And reach the saints’ abode, and reach the saints’ abode?
God of my life, be near:
On Thee my hopes I cast.
O guide me through the desert here
And bring me home at last!
O guide me through the desert here
And bring me home at last!
O guide me thro’ the desert here
And bring me home at last!

Rev. H.F. Lyte (1793-1847)


13 Far in the Wood

Far in the wood where the pine trees grow,
The noonday sun is beating, is beating,
When lo, a little wind doth blow
With soft caresses on my brow
Like thy kiss so cool and fleeting.
In the heart of the wood where pine trees grow,
I dream of thee, I dream of thee, of thee, of thee.
Far in the wood the pine trees grow,
When lo, a little breeze doth blow,
I croon my lay to the wand’ring breeze
That steals the scent from balsam trees
To waft thee with my greeting.

Unknown author


14 A Farewell to Land

Adieu, adieu! my native shore
Fades o'er the waters blue;
The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And shrieks the wild sea-mew.
Yon sun that sets upon the sea
We follow In his flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee,
My native Land—Good Night!

George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824)


15 La Fede

La fede mai non debbe esser corrotta,
O data a un sol o data ancor a cento,
Data in palese o data in una grotta.

Ludovico Ariosto (1474-1533)


16 Feldeinsamkeit

Ich ruhe still im hohen, grünen Gras
Und sende lange meinen Blick nach oben,
Von Grillen rings um schwirrt ohn Unterlass,
Vom Himmelsbläue wundersam umwoben.
Und schöne, weisse Wolken ziehn dahin
Durchs tiefe Blau, wie schöne stille Träume;
Mir ist, als ob ich längst gestorben bin,
Und ziehe selig mit durch ew'ge Räume.

Hermann Allmers (1821-1902)


17 Flag Song

Accept you these emblems at starting,
When you face to the west or the east,
When the coast a shadow departing
Slowly fades till its presence has ceased.
May the flag which grants protection
Ever linger in recollection;
For the land of our flag may affection
Only be by long absence increased;
For the land of our flag may affection
Ever be, ever be increased.
For we know that the selfish and cruel
Shall be bowed at the touch of the rod,
When these flames we set to the fuel
In the love and the goodness of God;
When the red blood of the nation A
nd the white of the pure of creation
With our Yale's deepest blue in relation
Shall be waved in the flag of our sod;
With our Yale's deepest blue, with our Yale's deepest blue,
Shall be waved in the flag of our sod.

Henry Strong Durand (1861-1923)


18 Forward into Light

Forward, flock of Jesus,
Salt of all the earth;
Till each yearning purpose
Spring to glorious birth:
Sick, they ask for healing;
Blind, they grope for day;
Pour on nations Wisdom's loving ray.
Forward, out of error,
Leave behind the night;
Forward, out of darkness,
Forward into light!
Forward, when in childhood
Buds the infant mind;
All through youth and manhood,
Forward till the veil be lifted;
Climb height to height!
Forward out of darkness:
On! on! ever onward,
Climbing till our faith,
Until our faith be sight!

Henry Alford (1810-1871)



19 Friendship

All love that has not friendship for its base
Is like a mansion built upon the sand.
Though brave its walls as any in the land,
And its tall turrets lift their heads in grace,
Though skillful and accomplished artists trace

Most beautiful, most beautiful designs on ev’ry hand,
Gleaming statues in dime corners stand,
Fountains play in some flow’r-hidden place;
All love that has not friendship for its base
Is like a mansion built upon the sand.

When from the frowning east, when from the frowning east a sudden gust
Of adverse fate is blown, or sad rains fall, or sad rains fall,
Day in, day out, day in, day out, against its yielding wall
Lo! The fair structure crumbles to the dust.
All love that has not friendship for its base
Is like a mansion built upon the sand.
Love, to endure life’s sorrow and earth’s woe,
Must have friendship’s solid mason-work below.

Unknown author


20 Frühlingslied

Die blauen Frühlingsaugen schau’n aus dem Gras hervor;
Das sind Das lieben, lieben Veilchen, die ich zum Strauss erkor,
Die ich zum Strauss erkor.
Ich pflücke sie und denke, und die Gedanken all,
Die mir im Herzen seufzen, singt laut die Nachtigall.
Ja, was ich denke, singt sie lautschmetternd, dass es schallt;
Mein zärtliches Geheimnis weiss schon der ganze Wald.
Ja, was ich denke, singt sie, lautschmetternd, dass es schallt;
Mein zärtliches Geheimnis weiss schon der ganze Wald.


Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)



21 General William Booth Enters into Heaven

Booth led boldly with his big bass drum
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)
The Saints smiled gravely and they said, "He's come,"
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)

Walking lepers followed rank on rank,
Lurching bravos from the ditches dank
Drabs the alleyways and drug fiends pale
Minds still passion ridden, soul flowers frail:
Vermin eaten saints with moldy breath,
Unwashed legions with the ways of Death
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)

Ev'ry slum had sent its half a score
The world round over. (Booth had groaned for more).
Ev'ry banner that the wide world flies
Bloomed with glory and transcendent dyes,
Big voiced lassies made their banjoes bang,
Tranced, fanatical they shrieked and sang;
"Are you? Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?"

Hallelulah! It was queer to see
Bull necked convicts with that land made free.
Loons with trumpets a blare, blare, blare,
On, on, upward thro' the golden air!
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)

[Booth died blind and still by Faith he trod,
Eyes still dazzled by the ways of God!
Booth led boldly and he look'd the chief
Eagle countenance in sharp relief,
Beard a-flying, air of high command
Unabated in that holy land.]

Jesus came from the court house door,
Stretched his hands above the passing poor.
Booth saw not, but led his queer ones
Round and round the mighty courthouse square.
Yet! in an instant all that blear review
Marched on spotless, clad in raiment new.

The lame were straightened, withered limbs uncurled,
And blind eyes opened on a new, sweet world.
[Drabs and vixens in a flash made whole!
Gone was the weasel head, the snout, the jowel
Sages and sibyls now, and athletes clean,
Rulers of empires and of forests green!
The hosts were sandall'd and their wings were fire!]
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)

[But their noise play'd havoc with the angel choir,
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)
Oh shout Salvation!
It was good to see Kings and Princes by the
Lamb set free.
The banjos rattled and the tambourines
Jingling jingl'd in the hands of Queens.

And when Booth halted by the curb for prayer
He saw his Master thro' the flag fill'd air.
Christ came gently with a robe and crown
For Booth the soldier, while the throng knelt down.
He saw King Jesus; they were face to face,
And he knelt a-weeping in that holy place.
Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?]

Vachel Lindsay (1879-1931)


22 God Bless and Keep Thee

I know not if thy love be as a flower
in autumn, and has faded now from me
I know not, if I came now as of yore,
You would greet me
I can but pray:
"God bless and keep thee,
God bless and keep thee,
keep thee, my love for [e'er and e'er]1."

I know not if thy love be as a fortress
And has withstood all other loves for me
I only know my love for thee is changeless
I still love thee
Each day I pray:
"God bless and keep thee,
God bless and keep thee,
keep thee, my love for [e'er and e'er]1."

Unknown author



23 Grace

Sweetheart, sweetheart,
We in this world today
Know what God and Angels say -
This I send the Thrice Divine,
Holding both your hands in mine,
And looking in those pools of blue,
"How good God is to give me you!"

Unknown author


24 Grantchester

Would I were in Grantchester, in Grantchester!
Some, it may-be, can get in touch
With Nature there or Earth or such.
And clever modern men have seen
A Faun a-peeping through the green,
And felt the Classics were not dead,
To glimpse a Naiad's reedy head
Or hear the Goat foot piping low....
But these are things I do not know
I only know that you may lie
Day long and watch the Cambridge sky,
And, flower lulled in sleepy grass,
Hear the cool lapse of hours pass,
Until the centuries blend and blur
In Grantchester, in Grantchester.

Rupert Brooke (1887-1915)


25 The greatest man

My teacher said us boys should write
about some great man, so I thought last night
'n thought about heroes and men
that had done great things,
'n then I got to thinkin' 'bout my pa;
he ain't a hero 'r anything but pshaw!
Say! He can ride the wildest hoss
'n find minners near the moss
down by the creek; 'n he can swim
'n fish, we ketched five new lights, me 'n him!
Dad's some hunter too - oh, my!
Miss Molly Cottontail sure does fly
when he tromps through the fields 'n brush!
(Dad won't kill a lark 'r thrush.)
Once when I was sick 'n though his hands were rough
he rubbed the pain right out. "That's the stuff!"
he said when I winked back the tears. He never cried
but once 'n that was when my mother died.
There're lots o' great men: George Washinton 'n Lee,
but Dad's got 'em all beat holler, seems to me!

Anne Collins



26 Gruss

Leise zieht durch mein Gemüt
Liebliches Geläute,
Klinge, kleines Frühlingslied,
Kling hinaus ins Weite.

[Kling]1 hinaus bis an das Haus,
Wo die [Blumen]2 sprießen,
Wenn du eine Rose schaust,
Sag, ich laß sie grüßen.

Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)

Ives : Songs, volume 3 ; Place aux barytons !

Le troisième volume de l’intégrale Naxos des mélodies de Charles Ives, toujours aussi passionnant, défie l’ordre alphabétique des titres pour permettre d’embrasser le parcours qui conduisit le compositeur de l’imitation du lied germanique à la constitution d’un répertoire national américain, à travers les aléas de l’histoire et le premier conflit mondial, jusqu’à façonner avec le soutien d’une religiosité élitiste une vision avant-gardiste encore très actuelle de la musique.

Au cœur de ce disque, le hasard fait se succéder Ich grolle nichts et sa version anglaise I’ll not complain, qui voisinent avec In Summer fields, traduction de Feldeinsamkeit, deux des chansons allemandes écrites en 1898 pour la classe d’Horatio Parker, où elles furent discutées lors de la visite de George Chadwick, compositeur tourné vers l’appropriation d’un courant national en musique, et à qui Ives emprunte le texte de In my Beloved’s Eyes (Chauvenet), comme il recourt encore après ses années d’études au texte de Heine Die Lotusblume mis en musique par Schubert et Franz. Dans la postface des 114 chansons publiées sous sa direction, Ives note : « On a critiqué l’auteur pour avoir tenté de mettre en musique des textes qui sont devenus des chef d’œuvres de grands compositeurs… Il n’est pas nécessaire de souligner que ce n’a pas été fait dans un esprit de compétition… Schumann, Brahms ou Franz… auraient sans doute été les derniers à se targuer du monopole de leur utilisation- et particulièrement de s’attribuer le droit exclusif du plaisir de tenter d’exprimer en musique ce qu’on veut. Ces chansons sont insérées ici, non pas en dépit de cette critique, mais bien à cause d’elle. »

On trouvera encore diverses romances d’avant 1900, Her Eyes, Her Gown was of Vermilion Silk, In April Tide (autre version de l’Amphion du volume 1) I knew and loved a Maid, Kären (incluse dans les 8 ballades sentimentales), In the Alley (-une des 5 chansons de rue, classée par Ives comme « no good »-), inspirées de la musique de salon, mais qui donnent une idée de ce qu’auraient pu devenir les projets scéniques avortés des années 1904-1907, comme des bribes issues des spectacles de fraternités, plus proches de la comédie musicale. En compagnie des hymnes (dont une harmonisation tardive d’un spiritual de 1929 In the Morning) ces chansons sont plutôt confiées aux voix féminines (la mezzo Tamara Mumford, se montre excellente dans Immortality), voire au ténor Matthew Plenk, bien meilleur que dans les volumes précédents.

Ce sont en effet les voix masculines qui se taillent la part du lion, et particulièrement les barytons, Carfizzi, Cavalieri et Gardner, les deux premiers rejoints par Daniel Bircher et Diego Matamoros, dans His Exaltation chanté de manière impressionnante par quatre voix graves à l’unisson.

Parmi les plus marquants lieder se trouvent les deux chansons de guerre, He is there (au piccolo non crédité) et l’inoubliable In Flanders Fields (« Dans les champs de Flandres fleurissent les coquelicots, entre les croix, rang après rang ») où les hymnes français et américains se mêlent à une réflexion sur l’histoire, la destinée et la mort qui anticipent les grandes réussites que sont Lincoln, The grand Commoner, The Incantation ou Like a Sick Eagle, exemple quasi unique de sprechgesang réclamant du chanteur qu’il opère des glissandi vocaux imitant les quart de tons du violon.
Nombre de ces chansons (The last Reader, The Indians, Luck and Work) ont servi de base aux Sets de musique de chambre où elles apparaissent dans des dérivations instrumentales, comme d’autres sont l’aboutissement d’œuvres majeures du corpus orchestral, telle The Housatonic at Stockbridge, résumé du mouvement final de l’Orchestral Set n°1.

On s’attardera sur le trop peu connu The Innate, dont la première exécution publique documentée eut lieu en France, le 5 mars 1936, avec Olivier Messiaen au piano, et dont le texte philosophique rédigé par Ives lui-même, et la musique extatique, parurent sans doute familières au compositeur français.

L’autorité des trois pianistes (Trudel, Penna, Dickson) fait merveille, particulièrement dans les pièces de bravoure aux rythmes complexes.
------------------------
1 CD Naxos 8.559271 75’41
Charles Ives Songs volume 3 de 6
Jana Baty, Tamara Mumford, mezzos
Jennifer Casey Cabot, Lielle Berman, Sumi Kittelberger, sopranos
Ian Howell, contre-tenor, Kenneth Tarver, Matthew Plenk, ténors
Patrick Carfizzi, Michael Cavalieri, Robert Gardner, Daniel Trevor Bircher, Diego Matamoros, barytons
Eric Trudel, J.J. Penna, Douglas Dickson, piano
Enregistré au Sprague Hall de Yale de mai à juin 2005

http://www.naxos.com/sharedfiles/PDF/8.559271_sungtext.pdf

1 Harpalus

Oh, Harpalus! (thus would he say)
Unhappiest under sunne!
The cause of thine unhappy day,
By love was first begunne.
Thou wentest first by sute to seeke
A tigre to make tame,
That settes not by thy love a leeke;
But makes thy griefe her game.
As easy it were to convert
The forest into a flame;
As for to turne a frowarde hert,
Whom thou so faine wouldst frame.
Corin, he liveth carelesse:
He leapes among the leaves:
He eats the frutes of thy redresse:
Thou "reapst" he takes the sheaves.

Thomas Percy (1729-1811)


2 He is there from 3 songs of the war

Fifteen years ago today
A little Yankee, little yankee boy
Marched beside his granddaddy
In the decoration day parade.
The village band would play
those old war tunes,
and the G. A. R. would shout,
"Hip Hip Hooray!" in the same old way,
As it sounded on the old camp ground.

That boy has sailed o'er the ocean,
He is there, he is there, he is there.
He's fighting for the right,
but when it comes to might,
He is there, he is there, he is there;
As the Allies beat up all the warlords!
He'll be there, he'll be there,
and then the world will shout
the Battle-cry of Freedom
Tenting on a new camp ground.
For it's rally round the Flag boys
Rally once again,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.

Fifteen years ago today
A little Yankee, with a German name
Heard the tale of "forty-eight"
Why his Granddaddy joined Uncle Sam,
His fathers fought that medieval stuff
and he will fight it now;
"Hip Hip Hooray! this is the day,"
When he'll finish up that aged job.

That boy has sailed o'er the ocean...

There's a time in ev'ry life,
When it's do or die, and our yankee boy
Does his bit that we may live,
In a world where all may have a "say."
He's conscious always of his country's aim
which is Liberty for all,
"Hip Hip Hooray!" is all he'll say,
As he marches to the Flanders front.

That boy has sailed o'er the ocean...

John Mc Crae


3 Her Eyes

Her eyes are like unfath’mable lakes,
When brightly o’er them the morning radiance breaks,
And yet the mariners had best beware,
For many valiant hearts lie ship’wreck’d there.
Her eyes are like unfath’mable lakes, her eyes, her eyes.

Unknown author

4 Her Gown Was of Vermilion Silk

Her gown was of vermilion silk, and her hood was all of lace,
And ev’ry movement, as she came, was full of dainty grace,
was full of dainty grace.
I doff’d my cap and bowed, and said, “I venture to suppose
You are the garden spirit of a lily or a rose, the garden spirit of
a lily or a rose.”
She passed me by without a smile, and with her peacock fan
Express’d disdain, such cold disdain as none but Lady Lovely
can, as Lady Lovely can.

Unknown author


5 His Exaltation

For the grandeur of thy nature,
Grand beyond a seraph's thought;
For the wonders of creation,
Works with skill and kindness wrought;
Through thine empire's wide domain
Blessed be thy gentle reign.

Robert Robinson (1735-1790)


6 The Housatonic at Stockbridge

Contented river! in thy dreamy realm—
The cloudy willow and the plumy elm:
Thou beautiful! From every dreamy hill
What eye but wanders with thee at thy will.
Contented river! and yet overshy
To mask thy beauty from the eager eye;
Hast thou a thought to hide from field and town
In some deep current of the sunlit brown?
Ah! there's a restive ripple, and the swift Red leaves—
September's firstlings—faster drift;
Wouldst thou away, dear stream?
Come, whisper near! I also of much resting have a fear:
Let me tomorrow thy companion be
By fall and shallow to the adventurous sea!

Robert Underwood Johnson (1853-1937)

7 Hymn

Thou hidden love of God, whose height,
Whose depth, unfathomed, no man knows,
I see from far Thy beauteous light;
Inly I sigh for Thy repose.
My heart is pained, nor can it be
At rest till it find rest in Thee.

Gerhardt Tersteegen (1697-1791), trans. John Wesley (1703-1791)


8 Hymn of Trust

Love Divine, that stoop’d to share
Our sharpest pang, our bitt’rest tear,
O Love Divine,
We smile at pain while Thou art near.
Though long the weary way we tread,
And sorrow crown each ling’ring year,
No path we shun no darkness dread,
Our hearts still whisp’ring,
Thou art near!
Love Divine, that stoop’d to share
Our sharpest pang, our bitt’rest tear,
O Love Divine,
On Thee we cast each earthborn care.
When drooping pleasure turns to grief,
And trembling faith is turn’d to fear,
The murm’ring wind, the quiv’ring leaf
Shall tell us softly,
Thou art near!
On Thee we fling our burd’ning woe,
O Love Divine, forever dear,
Content to suffer, while we know,
Living and dying, Thou art near!
On Thee we fling our burd’ning woe,
O Love Divine, forever dear,
Content to suffer, while we know
That, living, dying, living, dying, living, dying, Thou art near!

Oliver Wander Holmes


9 I hear a tone Ein Ton

Mir klingt ein Ton so wunderbar
In Herz und Sinnen immerdar.
Ist es der Hauch, der dir entschwebt,
Als einmal noch dein Mund gebebt?
Ist es des Glöckleins trüber Klang,
Der dir gefolgt den Weg entlang?
Mir klingt der Ton so voll und rein,
Als schlöß er deine Seele ein.
Als stiegest liebend nieder du
Und sängest meinen Schmerz in Ruh.

Peter Cornelius

I hear a tone so wondrous rare;
It fills my heart, 'tis ever there.
Ah, can it be the last faint breath
That stirr'd thy pallid lips ere death?
Is it the tender monotone
Of church bell which for thee made moan?
Lo, still it comes so full, so clear,
As though thy soul were floating near,
As though with love and yearning deep
You sang my bitter pain to sleep!

Hugo Laubach


10 I Knew and Loved a Maid

I knew and loved a maid once on a time,
I met and walked with her in mountain clime,
Through meadows fair, ‘midst maidenhair,
We wander’d ‘neath bright skies of many, many years ago.
I had the vow and token too of her sincerity,
I thought her love would reach e’en through eternity.
Vows unkept, love now gone, life’s one blessing now
Is in dreams to live those days of long ago.
I knew and loved a maid once on a time,
I met and walked with her in mountain clime,
Through meadows fair, ‘midst maidenhair.
We wander’d ‘neath bright skies of many, many years ago.

Unknown author


11 I travelled among unknown men

I travelled among unknown men
In lands beyond the sea;
Nor England! did I know till then
What love I bore to thee.
'Tis past, that melancholy dream!
Nor will I quit thy shore
A second time; for still I seem
To love thee more and more.
Among thy mountains did I feel
The joy of my desire;
And she I cherished turned her wheel
Beside an English fire.
Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed,
The bowers where Lucy played;
And thine is, too, the last green field
That Lucy's eyes surveyed.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850)



12 Ich grolle nicht

Ich grolle nicht, und wenn das Herz auch bricht,
Ewig verlornes Lieb! Ich grolle nicht.
Wie du auch strahlst in Diamantenpracht,
Es fallt kein Strahl in deines Herzensnacht.
Das weiss ich längst.
Ich grolle nicht, und wenn das Herz auch bricht.
Ich sah dich ja im Traume,
Und sah die Nacht in deines Herzens Räume,
Und sah die Schlang', die dir am Herzen frisst,
Ich sah, mein Lieb, wie sehr du elend bist.
Ich grolle nicht.

Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)


13 I'll Not Complain

I'll not complain, tho' break my heart in twain.
O love for ever lost! I'll not complain.
Howe'er thou shin'st in diamond splendor bright,
There falls no ray into thy hearts deep night,
I know full well.
I'll not complain, tho' break my heart in twain.
In dreams I saw thee waning,
And saw the night within thy bosom reigning,
And saw the snake that on thy heart doth gnaw,
How all forlorn thou art, my love, I saw.

Heinrich Heine (1797-1856),
trans. John Sullivan Dwight (1813-1893)


14 Ilmenau

Uber allen Gipfeln
Ist Ruh',
In allen Wipfeln
Spürest du
Kaum einen Hauch;
Die Vogelein schweigen im Walde.
Warte nur! Balde
Ruhest du auch.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832)


15 Immortality

Who dares to say the spring is dead,
in Autumn's radiant glow!
Who dares to say the rose is dead
in winter's sunset snow!
Who dares to say our child is dead!
Who dares to say our child is dead!
If God had meant she were to die,
She would not have been.

Charles Ives


16 In AprilTide

Be ye in love with Apriltide?
I’ faith, in love am I!
For now ‘tis sun, and now ‘tis show’r,
And now ‘tis Laura shy, and now ‘tis Laura shy.
Ye doubtful days, O slower glide!
Still frown and smile, O sky!
Be ye in love with Apriltide?
I’ faith, in love am I, i’ faith in love am I!

Clinton Scollard (1860-1932)


17 In Autumn

The skies seemed true above thee,
The rose true on the tree,
The bird seemed true the summer through,
But all proved false to me.

World, is there one good thing in you,
Life, love, or death, or what?
Since lips that sang, "I love thee"
Now say "I love thee not."

Unidentified author


18 In Flanders Fields in 3 songs of war

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

John McCrae (1872-1918)


19 In my beloved eyes in 3 songs

I look'd into the midnight deep,
And saw the steadfast stars,
True sentinels that never sleep
Beyond Earth's prison bars;
I look'd in my beloved's eyes,
And saw her radiant soul,
Still steadfast in the skies
Of love's remotest goal.

W. Chauvenet


20 In Summer Fields

Quite still I lie where green the grass and tall
And gaze above me into depths unbounded,
By voices of the woodland a constant call,
And by the wondrous blue of Heav'n surrounded.
The lovely snow white clouds druft far and wide,
Like silent dreams through deeps of azure wending,
I feel as though I long ago had died,
To drift with them through realms of bliss unending.

Henry Grafton Chapman (1860-1913)


21 In the Alley from 5 street songs

On my way to work one summer day,
Just off the main highway,
Through a window in an alley
smiled a lass, her name was Sally,
O could it be!
O could it be she smiled on me!
All that day, before my eyes,
amidst the busy whirl,
came the image of that lovely Irish girl,
And hopes would seem to rise,
as the clouds rise in the skies,
When I thought of her and those beaming eyes.
So that evening, dressed up smart and neat,
I wandered down her street,
At the corner of the alley
was another man with Sally,
and my eyes grew dim,
She smiles on him, only on him!

Charles Ives


22 In the Mornin’

In the mornin’ when I rise,
In the mornin’ when I rise,
In the mornin’ when I rise,
Give me Jesus!

(chorus)
Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus;
You can all the world, but
Give me Jesus!
‘Twixt the cradle and the grave,
‘Twixt the cradle and the grave,
‘Twixt the cradle and the grave,
Give me Jesus!
(chorus)
Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus;
You can all the world, but
Give me Jesus!
Negro
Spiritual (before 1850)


23 The "Incantation"

When the moon is on the wave,
And the glowworm
in the grass,
And the meteor on the grave,
And the wisp on the morass;
When the falling stars are shooting,
And the answer'd owls are hooting,
And the silent leaves are still
In the shadow of the hill,
Shall my soul be upon thine,
With a power and with a sign.

George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824)


24 The Indians

Alas! for them—their day is o'er,
No more for them the wild deer bounds;
The plough is on their huntinggrounds;
The pale man's axe rings through their woods,
The pale mans sail skims o'er their floods,
Beyond the mountains of the west,
Their children go—to die.

Charles Sprague (1791-1875)


25 The Innate

Voices live in every finite being,
In every Godless lifetime.
Hear them! Hear them in you! in others!
They sense truth deep in the Soul;
They know the things true Christians stand for.
Stand out! Come to Him without the things the world brings;
Come to Him! As a child and, as a poor man.
Christians give all. Christians have all.

Charles Ives


26 Kären from Sentimental ballads

Do'st remember child!
Last autumn we went thro' the fields,
How oft thy blue eyes on me were bent,
It flashed across my mind,
That till then I had been blind;
Tell me little Kären
What thy heart felt then?

Author unknown


27 The Last Reader

I sometimes sit beneath a tree
And read my own sweet songs;
Though naught they may to others be,
Each humble line prolongs
A tone that might have passed away,
But for that scarce remembered lay.
They lie upon my pathway bleak,
Those flowers that once ran wild,
As on a father's careworn cheek
The ringlets of his child;
The golden mingling with the gray,
And stealing half its snows away.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. (1809-1894)


28 The Light That Is Felt

A tender child of summers three,
At night, while seeking her little bed,
Paused on the dark stair timidly.
"Oh, mother! Take my hand," said she;
"And then the dark will all be light."
We older children grope our way
From dark behind to dark before;
And only when our hands we lay
In Thine, O God! the night is day;
Then the night is day,
And there is darkness nevermore.

John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892)


29 Like a Sick Eagle

My spirit is too weak—mortality
Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,
And each imagined pinnacle and steep
Of godlike hardship tells me I must die
Like a sick eagle looking towards the sky.

John Keats (1795-1821)


30 Lincoln, The great Commoner

And so he came from the prairie cabin to the Capitol,
One fair ideal led our chieftain on,
He built the rail pile as he built the State,
The conscience testing every stroke,
to make his deed the measure of the man...
So came our Captain with the mighty heart;
And when the step of earthquake shook the house,
Wrenching rafters from their ancient hold,
He held the ridge-pole up
and spiked again the rafters of the Home....
He held his place ...
he held the long purpose like a growing tree
Held on thro' blame and faltered not at praise,
And when he fell in whirlwind,
he went down as when a Kingly cedar green with boughs
goes down with a great shout, upon the hills!

Edward Markham

note: at the top of the score is an epigraph by the composer reading :
"The storm and stress of life!
The curse of war and strife!
The harsh vindictiveness of men!
The cuts of sword and pen!
What needed to be borne - he bore!
What needed to be fought - he fought!
But in his soul, he stood them up as - naught!"


31 Die Lotusblume

Die Lotusblume ängstigt
Sich vor der Sonne Pracht,
Und mit gesenktem Haupte
Erwartet sie träumend die Nacht.
Der Mond, der ist ihr Bühle,
Erweckt sie mit seinem Licht,
Und ihm entschleiert sie freundlich
Ihr frommes Blumengesicht.
Sie blüht und glüht und leuchtet
Und starret stumm in die Höh';
Sie duftet, weinet und zittert
Vor Liebe und Liebesweh.
Sie blüht und glüht etc.

Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)


32 The Love Song of Har Dyal

Alone upon the housetops to the
North I turn and watch the lightning in the sky,
The glamour of thy footsteps in the North.
Come back to me, Beloved, or I die!
Below my feet the still bazaar is laid,
Far, far below the weary camels lie,
The camels and the captives of thy raid.
Come back, Beloved, or I die!
My father’s wife is old and harsh with years,
And drudge of all my father’s house am I.
My bread is sorrow and my drink is tears.
Come back to me, Beloved, or I die!

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)


33 Luck and Work

While one will search the season over
To find the magic four leaved clover,
Another, with not half the trouble,
Will plant a crop to bear him double.

Robert Underwood Johnson (18531937)

Ives volume 4 ; l’esthétique du contraste radical

Le quatrième volume des Chansons de Charles Ives immerge l’auditeur au cœur du travail du compositeur, illustrant les deux extrêmes de sa production et le conflit qui anime l’essentiel de sa musique, présentant les visages successifs et contradictoires d’un auteur protéiforme dont le regard embrasse simultanément les quatre points cardinaux. C’est sans doute celui qu’il faut acquérir en priorité si l’on veut mesurer l’étendue insoupçonnée de l’éclectisme de ce génie.

Dès la première plage, on est confronté à l’une des mélodies les plus radicales et développées d’Ives (plus de sept minutes) : Majority (The Masses) est la transcription d’un hymne pour orchestre et chœur à l’unisson. Ives conseille d’ailleurs d’employer plusieurs chanteurs, peu pouvant soutenir les longues tenues et passer sans dommage la partie de piano, pour laquelle il recommande aussi d’employer plusieurs pianos ou au moins deux pianistes afin de réaliser les multiples clusters qui rythment l’ensemble. Robert Gardner et Eric Trudel s’en tirent très bien tout seuls et jusque dans la nuance, comme le chanteur le démontre deux plages plus tard dans la version anglaise de la délicate romance Marie.
Mais l’opposition ne peut être plus frappante qu’avec le contre-ténor Ian Howell à qui sont dévolues les 56 secondes de Maple Leaves, une mélodie discrète de la dernière période, mystérieuse dans sa brièveté énigmatique, comme par l’absence de notes préliminaires connues.

Rupture encore pour Memories, la plus connue des Songs avec ses deux sections en contrastes, une plutôt gaie –avec sifflements- l’autre plutôt triste, confiées à Leah Wool qui en donne une version très satisfaisante dans un tempo plutôt lent, sans démonstration excessive, charme qu’elle confirme dans Mirage (version grave de Her Eyes). En opposition encore, Mist sur un poème d’Harmony Ives, autre mélodie très personnelle des années 20 dont on connaît deux brouillons trop fragmentaires pour être enregistrés, est confié à la soprano Jennifer Casey Cabot. On trouvera en revanche les deux versions anglaises de la quatrième chanson allemande Du alte Mutter (vol.2), My dear old Mother et The old Mother, la dernière n’ayant musicalement rien à voir avec les deux autres et se bornant à utiliser le même texte, emprunté à une mélodie de Grieg. On remarquera la simplification qui fait passer du lied strophique pour voix grave Minnelied à Nature’s Way pour voix haute sans répétition ni reprise. On pourra comparer aussi les trois versions de My native Land (Pittsinger, basse, Mumford, mezzo, Jakubiak, soprano) la troisième n’ayant aucun rapport musical avec les deux précédentes, conçue comme un bis pour satisfaire un public sans éducation musicale, et classée « no good » par Ives, qui réagit aux compliments suscités par cette dernière version comme constituant un témoignage du « déplorable état dans lequel se trouvait la musique à New york » au tournant du siècle. Cette critique acerbe trouve son aboutissement dans The One way (1923) sous-titrée La vraie philosophie des jolis conservatoires, qui commente la bonne manière « d’émasculer l’esprit des jeunes américains » en terminant par une touche de paroles « chic » en français : « je ne sais pas ». Comme dans On the counter, écrit sur le comptoir d’un magasin de musique et se moquant des Art-songs distinguées du siècle passé, Ives semble faire la parodie de ses propres romances, telles My Lou Jennine, No More ou An Old Flame, qu’il devient piquant de juxtaposer aux pièces les plus abouties des années 20, dans lesquelles les chansons en vogue ne sont plus que des citations détournées en un rictus caricatural. Souvent sur ses propres textes, Ives prend position, sur la nature dénaturée (The New River), le passé décomposé (Old Home Day, repris dans the 14th of July de Holiday symphony), et le conformisme qui tourne le dos aux idéaux politiques visant à l’amélioration du bien-être commun : Nov. 2, 1920 (An Election), monologue en prose d’un père songeant, un jour d’élection, à son fils mort dans les tranchées de Flandres, est –musicalement aussi- l’une des déclaration les plus radicales et les plus définitives d’Ives, de celles qui, avec Lincoln auraient trouvé leur place dans la liste de projets symphoniques Music and Democracy à laquelle il se contenta de rêver.

Deux lieder de l’ensemble, pour ténor, semblent marquer l’alpha et l’omega de la production d’Ives : On Judges Walk contient les harmonies et la ligne vocale du mouvement initial de la 1ère symphonie ; on s’aperçoit à l’entendre que le thème qu’on croyait jovial et innocent naît d’un registre beaucoup plus sombre et tourmenté qui éclaire l’esprit de cette œuvre de diplôme souvent considérée comme légère. On the Antipodes, bien nommé, contient en germe la thématique (qui emprunte à la cantate Celestial Country représentée aussi par l’aria Naught that Country needeth) et les accords de base qui auraient dû servir à Universe symphony, la dernière œuvre conçue et inachevée par Ives, rejoignant les techniques de cluster de Majority, frappés par deux pianistes ; il n’y manque pas vers la fin la pédale d’orgue mentionnée dans les notes –on regrette seulement de ne pas disposer du texte, aucun de ceux dont Ives est l’auteur ne figurant pour des raisons de droits sur le site de Naxos-.

Tous les interprètes, dont Mary Phillips, Ryan McPherson ou David Pittsinger, qu’on découvre ou retrouve avec bonheur, se mettent avec conviction au service de ce florilège d’atmosphères divergentes.
---------------------------------
1 CD Naxos 8.559272 73’15
Charles Ives Songs volume 4 de 6
Mary Phillips, Tamara Mumford, Leah Wool, mezzos
Jennifer Casey Cabot, Lielle Berman, Sumi Kittelberger, Sara Jakubiak, sopranos
Ian Howell, contre-tenor, Kenneth Tarver, Matthew Plenk,Ryan McPherson, ténors
Patrick Carfizzi, Michael Cavalieri, Robert Gardner, barytons
David Pittsinger, basse
Eric Trudel, J.J. Penna, Douglas Dickson, Laura Garritson piano Enrico Sartori, flûte
Enregistré au Sprague Hall de Yale de mai à juin 2005

http://www.naxos.com/sharedfiles/PDF/8.559272_sungtext.pdf


1 Majority

The Masses! The Masses! The Masses have toiled,
Behold the works of the World!
The Masses are thinking,
Whence comes the thought of the World!
The Masses are singing,
Whence comes the Art of the World!
The Masses are yearning,
Whence comes the hope of the World.
The Masses are dreaming,
Whence comes the visions of God!
God's in His Heaven,
All will be well with the World!

Charles Ives

2 Maple Leaves
October turned my maples leaves to gold;
The most are gone now; here and there one lingers:
Soon these will slip from out the twigs' weak hold,
Like coins between a dying miser's fingers.

Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1907)


3 Marie (1)

Marie, am Fenster sitzest du,
Du liebes, süßes Kind,
Und siehst dem Spiel der Blüten zu,
Verweht im Abendwind.

Der Wandrer, der vorüber geht,
Er lüftet fromm den Hut:
Du bist ja selbst wie ein Gebet,
So fromm, so schön, so gut.

Die Blumenaugen seh'n empor
Zu deiner Augenlicht!
Die schönste Blum' im Fensterflor
Ist doch dein Angesicht.

Ihr Abendglocken grüßet sie
Mit süsser Melodie!
O brech' der Sturm die Blume nie,
Und nie dein Herz, Marie!

Rudolph Gottschall (1823-1909)



4 Marie (2)

Marie, I see thee fairest one,
As in a garden fair.
Before thee flowers and blossoms
Play tossed by soft evening air.

The pilgrim passing on his way,
Bows low before thy shrine;
Thou art, my child, like one sweet prayer,
So good, so fair, so pure almost divine.

How sweetly now the flowrets raise
Their eyes to thy dear glance;
The fairest flower on which I gaze
Is thy dear countenace.

The evening bells are greeting thee,
With sweetest melody,
O may no storm e'er crush thy flowers,
Or break thy heart, Marie!

Rudolph Gottschall (1823-1909)
trans Elizabeth Rücker


5 Memories: very pleasant

We're sitting in the opera house;
We're waiting for the curtain to arise
With wonders for our eyes;
We're feeling pretty gay,
And well we may,
"O, Jimmy, look!" I say,
"The band is tuning up
And soon will start to play."
We whistle and we hum,
Beat time with the drum.

We're sitting in the opera house;
We're waiting for the curtain to arise
With wonders for our eyes,
A feeling of expectancy,
A certain kind of ecstasy,
Expectancy and ecstasy... Sh's's's.

6 Memories; very sad

From the street a strain on my ear doth fall,
A tune as threadbare as that "old red shawl,"
It is tattered, it is torn,
It shows signs of being worn,
It's the tune my Uncle hummed from early morn,
'Twas a common little thing and kind 'a sweet,
But 'twas sad and seemed to slow up both his feet;
I can see him shuffling down
To the barn or to the town,
A humming.

Charles Ives


7 Minnelied

Holder klingt der Vogelsang,
Wann die Engelreine,
Die mein Jünglingsherz bezwang,
Wandelt durch die Haine.

Röther blühen Thal und Au,
Grüner wird der Wasen,
Wo die Finger meiner Frau
Maienblumen lasen.

Ohne Sie ist alles todt,
Welk sind Blüt’ und Kräuter;
Und kein Frühlingsabendroth
Dünkt mir schön und heiter.

Traute, minnigliche Frau,
Wollest nimmer fliehen
Dass mein Herz, gleich dieser
Au, Mög’ in Wonne blühen.

Ludwig H.C. Hölty (1748-1776)


8 Mirage

The hope I dreamed of was a dream,
Was but a dream; and now I wake
Exceeding comfortless, and worn, and old,
For a dream's sake.

My silent heart, lie still and break:
Life, and the world, and my own self are changed
For a dream's sake.

Christina Georgine Rossetti (1830-1894)


9 Mists

Low lie the mists; they hide each hill and dell;
The grey skies weep with us who bid farewell.
But happier days through memory weaves a spell,
And brings new hope to hearts who bid farewell.

Harmony Twitchell


10 My Dear Old Mother

My dear old mother, poor thou art,
And toilest day and toilest night,
But ever warm remains thy heart,
'Twas thou my courage didst impart,
My arm of sturdy might.

Thou'st wip'd away each childish tear,
When I was sore distrest,
And kiss'd thy little laddie dear,
And taught him songs that banish fear
From ev'ry manly breast.

And more than all thou'st given me
A humble, true and tender heart;
So, dear old mother, I'll love thee
Where e'er my foot may wander free,
Till death our lives shall part. Mother, Mother, Mother.

Aasmund Olafsson Vinje (1818-1870) - Translation by Frederick Corder (1852-1932)


11 My Lou Jennine

Has she need of monarchs’ swaying wand,
Has she need of regents’ diamond crown,
Proudest peers in all this land
Bow to that wee jewell’d hand,
For she’s a queen, My Lou Jennine,
She’s a queen, my Lou Jennine.

Has she lack of leal allies,
ev’ry zealous minion flies
At the bidding of those eyes
Such, such a queen Is my Lou Jennine.

Royal maiden, yours, yours alone
Is the sole sov’reignty I own.
Take my heart for a throne
Pleading in this plaintive tone,
To be my queen,
My Lou Jennine, Be my queen, my Lou Jennine.

Unknown author


12-13-14 My native land

My native land now meets my eye,
The old oaks raise their boughs on high,
Violets greeting seem,
Ah! 'tis a dream.

And when in distant lands I roam,
My heart will wander to my home;
While these visions and fancies teem,
Still let me dream.

Charles Ives after Heine


15 Nature's way

When the distant evening bell calmly breathes its blessing;
When the moonlight to the trees speaks in words caressing;
When the stars with radiance gaze towards the sleeping flowers,
then does nature bare her soul, giving strength to ours.

Charles Ives


16 Naught That Country Needeth form Celestial country

Naught that country needeth
Of these aisles of stone;
Where the Godhead dwelleth,
Temple there is none.
All the saints that in these courts have stood
Are but babes, and feeding on children's food.
On through darkness,
On through sign and token,
On through stars amidst the night,
On to light; Forward into light!

Henry Alford (1810-1871)


17 The new river

Down the river comes a noise!
It is not the voice of rolling waters.
It's only the sound of man,
phonographs and gasoline,
dancing halls and tambourine;
Killed is the blare of the hunting horn
The River Gods are gone.

Charles Ives


18 Night of Frost in May

There was the lyre of earth beheld,
Then heard by me: it holds me linked;
Across the years to dead-ebb shores
I stand on, mv blood-thrill restores.
But would I conjure unto me
Those issue notes, I must review
What serious breath the woodland drew;
The low throb of expectancy;
And how the white mother-muteness pressed
On leaf and herb.

George Meredith (1828-1909)


19 A Night Song

The young May moon is beaming, love,
The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, gleaming;
How sweet to rove
Through Morna's grove,
While the drowsy world is dreaming, love!
Then awake! the heav'ns look bright, my dear!
'Tis ne'er too late for delight,
And best of all the ways
To lengthen days
Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear,
While the drowsy world is dreaming, love!

Thomas Moore (1779-1852)


20 A Night Thought

How oft a cloud, with envious veil,
Obscures yon bashful light,
Which seems so modestly
To steal along the waste of night!
Thus the world's obtrusive wrongs
Obscure, with malice keen,
Some timid heart which only longs
To live and die unseen.

Thomas Moore (1779-1852)


21 No More

They walked beside the summer sea
And watched the slowly dying sun;
And ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘come back to me,
My love, my own, my only one!’

But, while he kissed her fears away,
The gentle waters kissed the shore,
And,sadly whisp’ring, seemed to say,
‘He’ll come no more! He’ll come no more!’

Alone beside the autumn sea
She watched the somber death of day;
And, ‘Oh,’ she said, remember me,
And love me, darling, far away!’

A cold wind swept the wat’ry gloom,
And darkly whisp’ring on the shore,
Sighed out the secret of his doom,
‘He’ll come no more! He’ll come no more!’

In peace beside the winter sea
A white grave glimmers to the moon;
And waves are fresh, and clouds are free,
Shrill winds pipe a careless tune.

One sleeps beneath the dark blue wave,
And one on the lonely shore;
But, joined in love, beyond the grave,
They part no more! They part no more!

William Winter (1836-1917)


22- Nov. 2, 1920 (An election)

"It strikes me that some men and women got tired of a big job;
but, over there our men did not quit.
They fought and died that better things might be!
Perhaps some who stayed at home are beginning to forget and to quit.
The pocketbook and certain little things talked loud and noble,
And got in the way; too many readers go by the headlines,
party men will muddle up the facts,
So a good many citizens voted as grandpa always did,
or thought a change for the sake of change seemed natural enough.
"It's raining, lets throw out the weather man,
Kick him out! Kick him out! Kick him out! Kick him out! Kick him!"
Prejudice and politics, and the stand-patters came in strong,
and yelled, "Slide back! Now you're safe, that's the easy way!"
Then the timid smiled and looked relieved,
"We've got enough to eat, to hell with ideals!"
All the old women, male and female, had [thier]1 day today,
and the hog-heart came out of his hole,
But he won't stay out long, God always drives him back!
Oh Captain, my Captain! a heritage we've thrown away;
But we'll find it again, my Captain, Captain, oh my Captain!"

Charles Ives

Note by composer: "The assumption, in the text, that the result of our national election in 1920, was a definite indication, that the country, (at least, the majority-mind) turned its back on a high purpose is not conclusive. Unfortunately election returns coming through the present party system prove nothing conclusively. The voice of the people sounding through the mouth of the parties, becomes somewhat emasculated. It is not inconceivable that practical ways may be found for more accurately registering and expressing popular thought - at least, in relation to the larger primary problems, which concern us all. A suggestion to this end (if we may be forgiven a further digression) in the form of a constitutional amendment together with an article discussing the plan in some detail and from various aspects, will be gladly sent, by the writer, to any one who is interested enough to write for it." -C. E. I.
Note in score: Soliloquy of an old man whose son lies in "Flanders Fields." It is the day after election; he is sitting by the roadside, looking down the valley toward the station.


23 An Old Flame in Sentimental ballads

When dreams enfold me,
Then I behold thee,
See thee, the same loving sweetheart of old.
Through seasons gliding,
Thou art abiding
In the depths of my heart untold;
For I do love thee,
May God above his guarding care unfold.
Ah! could I meet thee,
And have thee greet me,
Come to me,
Stand by me,
Love me as yore,
Sadness outdone then,
New life would come then,
Such joy never known before;
For I do love thee,
May God above thee,
Bless thee ever more,
God bless thee!
Love, Bless thee! Love.

Charles Ives


24 Old Home Day from 5 street songs

Go my songs! Draw Daphnis from the city.

A minor tune from Todd's opera house,
comes to me as I cross the square, there,
We boys used to shout the songs that rouse
the hearts of the brave and fair.
As we march along down Main street, behind the village band,
The dear old trees, with their arch of leaves
seem to grasp us by the hand.
While we step along to the tune of an Irish song,
Glad but wistful sounds the old church bell,
for underneath's a note of sadness,
"Old home town" farewell.

A corner lot, a white picket fence,
daisies almost everywhere, there,
We boys used to play "One old cat,"
and base hits filled the summer air.
As we march along on Main street,
of that "Down East" Yankee town,
Comes a sign of life,
from the "3rd Corps" fife,
- strains of an old breakdown;
While we step along to the tune of [it's]* Irish song,
Comes another sound we all know well.
It takes us way back forty years,
that little red schoolhouse bell.

As we march along down Main street, behind the village band,
The dear old trees, with their arch of leaves
seem to grasp us by the hand.
While we step along to the tune of an Irish song,
Glad but wistful sounds the old church bell,
for underneath's a note of sadness,
"Old home town" farewell.

Charles Ives


25 The Old mother

My dear old mother, poor thou art,
And toilest day and toilest night,
But ever warm remains my heart,
'Twas thou my courage did'st impart,
My arm of sturdy might.

Thou'st wip'd away each childish tear,
When I was sore distrest,
And kiss'd thy little laddie dear,
And taught him songs that banish fear
From ev'ry manly breast.

And more than all thou'st given me,
A humble true and tender heart;
So dear old mother, I'll love thee
Where e'er my foot may wander free,
Till death our lives shall part.
Mother, Mother, Mother.

Frederick Corder after Vinje


26 Omens and Oracles

Phantoms of the future, spectres of the past,
In the wakeful night came round me sighing crying
"Fool beware, Fool beware!"
Check the feeling o'er thee stealing,
Let thy first love be thy last,
Or if love again thou must at least this fatal love forbear,"
Amara! Amara! Amara!

Now the dark breaks, now the lark wakes;
Now the voices fleet away,
Now the breeze about the blossom;
Now the ripple in the reed;
Beams and buds and birds begin to sing and say,
"Love her for she loves thee."
And I know not which to heed.
O, cara amara amara.

Owen Meredith (1831-1891)


27 On Judge's Walk

That night on Judges' Walk, the wind
Was as the voice of doom;
The Heath, a lake of darkness, lay
Silent as the tomb.
The vast night brooded, white with stars,
Above the world's unrest;
The awfulness of silence ached
like a strong heart repressed.
That night on Judges' Walk,
We walked beneath the trees,
There was a word we could not say,
Half uttered in the breeze,
That night on Judges' Walk we said
No word at all,
And now no word shall e'er be said
Before the Judgment Day.

Arthur Symons


28 On the Antipodes

Natures relentless; Nature is kind.
Nature is Eternity; Nature?s today!
Nature is geometry; Nature is mystery.
Nature?s man?s master;
Nature?s man?s slave,
Sometimes Nature?s nice and sweet,
as a little pansy
And, sometimes "IT AIN'T!"
Nature is man?s enemy;
Nature is man?s friend.
Nature shows us part of life;
Nature shows us all the grave.
Does Nature know the beginning of Time or the ending
of Space?
Man! We ask you!
Is Nature nothing
but atomic cosmic cycles
Around the perennial antipodes?

Charles Ives

Note: la première idée de cette mélodie de 1923, remonte à 1904. Ives semble l'avoir considérée comme une de ses études pour la Universe symphony.

The song's first critic was Ives' apartment-mate Bill Maloney. Ives and a group of young businessmen friends had a series of apartments in New York City that they jokingly called "Poverty Flat." (Not that the apartment, at 65 Central Park West, was at all poverty-stricken.) Ives' roommates were remarkably tolerant of the young insurance man's proclivity to play very weird music on the piano late into the night. But the early ideas that became On the Antipodes were too much for Bill Maloney, as Ives noted on the paper including the sketch, who was "mad at this," said it "just hammers" and complained that he couldn't sleep. This note is dated St. Pat's Day (i.e., March 17th), 1904.

One's sympathies have to be with Maloney -- he was a busy young lawyer who had to get his rest to be at his best in court the next day. Ives' music was made of dense, triple-forte chords in twelve-tone formations. Although (as Wooldridge points out) he was an outstanding pianist with a reach wider even than Rachmaninov's, he had to pound these as broken chords and repeat them over and over until he was sure of their effect.

The song is scored for two pianos and singer, and Ives suggests that strings can be added to the piano part to sustain its notes. The mirror-image structure of the song is reflected in the structure of the music, for the parts often move in mirrored contrary motion. Ives applies series (twelve-tone) principles in the music, and piles harsh tone clusters -- as many as 42 different notes at once -- on top of each other. The highly dissonant intervals of minor seconds, major sevenths, and tritones abound. The only relief is the parodistic, soft tonal music on the words, "Sometimes Nature's nice and sweet, as a little pansy; and sometimes it ain't!" This is the passage Swafford particularly objects to, for good musical and literary reason: Compared with the rest of the text, the line is, in this writer's view almost fatally bathetic. ~ Joseph Stevenson, Rovi



29 On the counter

Tunes we heard in "ninety two,"
soft and sweet,
always ending "I love you" -
phrases nice and neat;
The same old chords, the same old time,
the same old sentimental sound,
Shades of ___ ___ ___1 in new songs abound.

Charles Ives
1 Note: these words are blanked out in currently published editions. In an earlier edition published privately, the words were "Hawley, Smith and Nevin". (Information provided by Bruce De Benedictis)


30 The one way

Here are things you've heard before,
Turned out daily by the score,
Pretty rhymes you know
How gently on the ear
They bring a smile or bring a tear,
Do re mi fa mi re do.

When we go a-marching
Down thro' life and the Street,
O loud and free must the music be
With [the] tunes to match the feet.
Now a softer cadence,
Now we change the key,
Just to stage a come-back
To the main strain of our glee.
So if you'd go a-marching
To fortune or to Fame,
Perhaps the safest way's to play the same old, same old game.

Tunes we've often heard before,
Snatches of a dozen more,
Jingles row on row,
When borne upon the ear,
They bring a smile or bring a blear,
Do re me fa me re do.

When we go a-marching
Down the aisle or the Street,
O nice and sweet must the music bleat,
With [the] time to match the feet.
Now a softer cadence,
Now we change the key,
Just to stage a comeback
To the nice key of our glee.

So if you'd go a-marching
To Fortune or to Fame,
The safest way's to play the same old, same old game.

[Hola! Huzza! Je ne sais pas!]
(a bracketed alternative in the score is: "Same old game! Same old game! Same old game!")

Charles Ives


31 The only son

The lark will make her hymn to God,
The partridge call her brood,
While I forget the heath I trod,
The fields wherein I stood.

'Tis dule to know not night from morn,
But [greater] deeper dule to know;
I can but hear the hunter's horn
That once I used to blow.

Rudyard Kipling


32 Over all the treetops (Ilmenau)

Over all the treetops
is rest,
A gentle breeze
scarcely stirs their waving crest;
All the birds are silent
each in his quiet nest.
So my heart, waiting,
soon will rest.

Harmony Twitchell after Goethe

Ives, Songs volume 5 : D’un peu partout, en passant par le pire

Contrairement aux volumes précédents, ce disque n’est pas sans faiblesse, particulièrement pour la distribution à Lielle Berman et à Jennifer Casey Cabot de certaines chansons qui auraient peut-être mieux convenu à une mezzo. Heureusement, Soliloquy et Romanzo mis à part, les plages concernées ne sont parmi les plus importantes et font parfois doublon. On aurait pu espérer une pointe d’humour supplémentaire, mais l’exercice difficile de l’intégrale fait sans doute qu’on ne peut toujours choisir entre la fidélité respectueuse au texte et la fantaisie débridée.

Voulez-vous entendre, chantée avec conviction par Janna Baty « la plus mauvaise chanson jamais écrite aux USA » ? selon l’avis qu’appose l’auteur sur sa copie définitive, c’est A Perfect Day (1899). Par la même interprète la ballade à variations Pictures, juxtapose quatre images (Le champs de Maïs, la Mer, la Lande, et Nuit) formant un ensemble ingénieux, guère plus évolué musicalement malgré son rythme de berceuse à 9/8 que la romance française Qu’il m’irait bien (ce ruban vert) sauf à considérer comme le suggère l’introduction en arpèges coquins que l’intention est purement parodique. La plus mauvaise chanson c’est aussi Romanzo (di Central Park) –ou Morceau de Cœur, ou encore Intermezzo Table d’hôte- deux minutes de chanson d’amour où le texte, réduit à sa plus simple expression, n’est constitué que de douze mots (Grove, Rove, Night, Delight. Heart, Impart, Prove, Love. Kiss, Bliss, Blest, Rest) et dont la musique imitant toutes les déclarations de salon est une charge contre Victor Herbert. La version qu’en donnait Finley et Drake, avec violon ajouté, était toutefois plus éloquente et humoristique que celle, platement objective de Lielle Berman. Il est précisé par l’auteur, que, sur cette mélodie, la voix peut être omise sans dommage, changer d’octave, être remplacée par un violon ou autre chose. La plus mauvaise chanson, c’est encore A song-for anything, mise en musique maladroite d’un texte religieux remontant à 1892, sur la ligne vocale duquel Ives plaque une chanson d’amour puis le traditionnel Adieu à Yale, entendant illustrer la façon dont « la musique de qualité inférieure accompagne forcément des textes de qualité inférieure, et vice-versa », la mélodie servant elle-même de base à On the counter du volume précédent. Mauvaises chansons sentimentales au premier degré, comme Song (peut-on faire moins précis ?), scolaires comme Rosamunde I et II (en français) –dont Hampson et Guzelimian réussissaient ailleurs à donner pourtant une bonne version- ou l’hymne Rock of Ages, auquel l’auteur tient encore pour de mauvaises raisons, comme montrer combien l’état de la musique a progressé dans les églises d’Amérique (Religion). Mauvaise musique au second degré : Son of a Gambolier –le fils de l’acrobate, dernière des Chansons de Rue, où le chanteur disparaît au profit d’une marche de cirque à laquelle sont invités à se joindre un chorus de kazoos, piccolo, ocarina, violon, et ici deux trombones !

La première chanson d’Ives, Slow March (1887), retrouvée par sa mère dans un cahier d’esquisse en 1921, cite la Marche de Saul de Haendel, sur un texte composé par les membres de la famille pour l’enterrement du « fidèle ami » canin : elle révèle des qualités aussi surprenantes que la fugue atonale de Song for Harvest Season, destinée à un accompagnement de cuivres ou d’orgue (comme c’est ici le cas) et qui reprend des thèmes d’étude élaborés par George Ives. Nombre de ces chansons apparaissent comme autant de clin-d’œil, d’échos, de fragments, bribes de journaux déchirés, inférieurs parfois à 50 secondes, ce qui porte le disque à une quarantaine de plages dont certaines jouent le rôle d’interludes parfois plus substantiels que les véritables lieder maintes fois retravaillés (Remembrance, à peine 9 mesures avec adjonction de flute sur imitation d’arpèges de cordes à vide du violon qui rappellent à s’y méprendre le début du Concerto à la mémoire d’un ange de Berg). Slugging a Vampire, 26 secondes, témoignage du dépit de n’avoir pu utiliser le texte de Kipling (Tarant Moss qui ouvre le volume 6).

Le jeu des emprunts se poursuit, souvent à contre sens, la valse de la Pathétique dans The side-show (34 secondes), le thème encore de sa propre première symphonie, habillé de couleurs d’ouragan, nécessitant un deuxième pianiste pour à peine plus d’une minute, dans Rough Winds, la symphonie en ré de Franck dans le magnifique Song of the Dead (autre harmonisation d’un texte de Kipling dont la musique entrevue au volume 2 The Ending Year se retrouvera dans le volume final). Le plus sérieux et le plus profond existe au côté du plus trivial, et c’est de la chanson de cabaret Taps qu’Ives dérive le sombre et déchirant Requiem. Serenity déforme un hymne traditionnel pour en faire une sorte d’incantation répétitive védique. September puise sa source dans un texte du 14ème siècle italien imitant pour sa musique des vols d’oiseaux irréguliers.

Les très célèbres Paracelsus et Swimmers, exemples de la veine la plus aboutie, commencent et referment le disque, où l’on trouve aussi l’étonnant et sombre Sea Dirge (tiré de la Tempête de Shakespeare) qui précède de peu la toute dernière mélodie d’Ives (avec violon) demeurée inachevée et terminée par John Kirkpatrick, éditeur et créateur de beaucoup de musique fragmentaire d’Ives, Sunrise (1926) traduisant l’arrêt de la composition, la fuite de toute inspiration, l’inutilité de poursuivre, à travers l’image paradoxale et saisissante d’une aurore naissante.
-------------------------------
1CD Naxos 8.559273 80 minutes
Charles Ives Songs volume 5
Janna Baty, Lielle Berman, Jennifer casey Cabot, Sumi Kittelberger, sopranos
Tamara Mumford, Mary Philips, Leah Wool, mezzos
Ian Howell, contre-ténor, Ryan McPherson, Kenneth Tarver, ténors
Patrick Carfizzi, Michael Cavalieri, Robert Gardner, David Pittsinger, barytons et basse
Douglas Dickson, Laura Garritson, J-J. Penna, Eric Trudel, piano (et instrumentistes divers)
Enregistré au Sprague Hall de l’université de Yale, USA de mai à juin 2005


http://www.naxos.com/sharedfiles/PDF/8.559273_sungtext.pdf

1 Paracelsus

For God is glorified in man,
And to man's glory vowed I soul and limb.
Yet, constituted thus, and thus endowed, I failed.
I gazed on power till I grew blind...
What wonder if I saw no way to shun despair?
The power I sought seemed God's...
I learned my own deep error;
And what proportion love should hold
with power in man's right constitution;
Always preceding power,
And with much power, always, always much more love...

Robert Browning (1812-1889)


2 Peaks 11songs and harmonization

Quiet faces,
That look in faith
On distance,
I will come to you
And gaze upon that peace.
I cannot tell
If it be wind you see
Across the summer grain
Or the shaken agony
Of driven seas.

Heinrich Hauer Bellaman


3 A perfect Day

Bland air and leagues of immemorial blue,
No subtlest hint of whitening rime or cold,
A revel of rich colors, hue on hue,
From radiant crimson to softest shades of gold,
The vagueness in the undulant hill line,
The flutter of a bird's south-soaring wing,
Aeolian harmonies in the pine,
And glad brook laughter like mirth of spring,
A sense of gracious calm afar and near,
And yet a something wanting here,
One fine ray for consummation,
Ah, love, were you but here,
Then were the day indeed a perfect day.

Unidentified author


4 Pictures

The ripe corn bends low
When the wind blows fair,
Like curtseying maidens, curts’ying maidens
With golden hair.
Dark billows reflect
The gath’ring clouds;
The white foam is frothing
Like tossing shrouds.
Winds are sobbing
In pinetree wood.
The moor is a king’s robe
Stained with blood.
The wildrose sleeps above the pool,
Round her sleepeth every leaf;
The night air, soft and cool,
Cradles them all above the pool,
And all their shadows sleep beneath.

M. P. Turnbull (ca. 1892)


5 Premonitions

There's a shadow on the grass
That was never there before;
And the ripples as they pass
Whisper of an unseen oar;
And the song we knew by rote
Seems to falter in the throat;
A footfall, scarcely noted,
lingers near the open door.
Omens that were once but jest
Now are messengers of fate;
And the blessing held the best
Cometh not or comes too late.
Yet, whatever life may lack,
Not a blown leaf beckons back,
"Forward!" is the summons.
"Forward! where new horizons wait."

Robert Underwood Johnson (1853-1937)


6 Qu'il m'irait bien

Qu'il m'irait bien, ce ruban vert!
Ce soir à la fête a plus d'une coquette
le coeur battrait moins fier,
Ainsi ta voix chérie exprimait un naïf désir:
Le voilà douce amié,
l'amour veut te l'offrir.
Aux tresses de tes beaux cheveux
que ce réseau s'enlace,
qu'il brille plein degràce;
partout je le suivrai des yeux.
Dans cette foule immense je suis perdu pour toi!
Symbole d'esperance, fais la réver à moi!

Charles Ives


7 The Rainbow (So May It Be!)

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850)



8 Religion

There is no unbelief.
And day by day and night by night, unconsciously,
The heart lives by faith the lips deny;
God knoweth why.

Elizabeth York Case (1840?-1911)


9 Remembrance

A sound of a distant horn,
O'er shadowed lake is borne,
my father's song.

The song was written for his father, who died unexpectedly in 1894 while Ives was an undergraduate at Yale.
The song begins with the epigram by Wordsworth:

"The music in my heart I bore
Long after it was heard no more."


10 Requiem

Under the wide and starry sky
Dig a grave and let me lie;
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)


11 Resolution

Walking stronger under distant skies,
Faith e'en needs to mark the sentimental places;
Who can tell where Truth may appear, to guide the journey!

Charles Ives


12 Rock of Ages

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy riven side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure;
Save from wrath and make me pure.
Not the labour of my hands
Can fulfil Thy law’s demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears for ever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.
Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to the cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless, look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Saviour, else I die.
While I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eyelids close in death,
When I soar to worlds unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgement throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.

A. M. Toplady (1740-1778)


13 Romanzo (di Central Park)

Grove, Rove, Night, Delight.
Heart, Impart, Prove, Love.
Kiss, Bliss, Blest, Rest.
Heart, Impart, Impart, Love.

Charles Ives after Leigh Hunt

Ives added a note to the score when he published it in 114 Songs: "Some twenty years ago [i.e., pretty much when the song was written] an eminent and sure-minded critic of music in New York told a young man that _______ was one of our great composers; what he meant by ‘our' is not recorded, nor is it remembered that this profound statement was qualified by the word ‘living' -- probably not, as this arbiter of tears and emotions is quite enthusiastic over his enthusiasms. The above collection of notes and heartbeats would show, but does so very inadequately, the influence, on the youthful mind, of the master in question." John Kirkpatrick, Ives' student and cataloguer, later found a note in a book leaf that revealed the "great composer" as "Victor Herbert!-lily-white hands and diamonds!" ~ Joseph Stevenson, Rovi


14 Rosamunde

Der Vollmond strahlt auf Bergeshöhn Wie
hab ich dich vermißt!
Du süßes Herz! es ist so schön,
Wenn treu die Treue küßt.
Was frommt des Maien holde Zier?
Du warst mein Frühlingsstrahl!
Licht meiner Nacht, O lächle mir
Im Tode noch einmal!
Sie trat hinein beim Vollmondschein,
Sie blickte himmelwärts;
"Im Leben fern, im Tode dein!"
Und sanft brach Herz an Herz.

Helmine von Chézy (1783-1856)

15

The full moon shines on mountaintops -
How badly I missed you!
Oh, heart, so sweet! How lovely it is
When faithfulness kisses truly.

What good is May's sweet loveliness?
You were my beam of vernal sun!
Light of my night, come, smile at me
in death just one more time.

She entered in the full moon's light,
she then looked heavenwards;
"Whilst living, far - in death I'm yours!"
And peacefully two hearts broke.


16 Rosenzweige

Wohl manchen Rosenzweig brach ich vom Pfade
Am grünen Strand,
Es trug der Wind ihn fort an ihr Gestade,
Bis sie ihn fand.
Sie flocht den Kranz sich draus zum Kirchengange.
O holde Not!
Von meinen Rosen ward ihr Stirn und Wange
So heiß und rot!

Karl Stieler (1842-1885)


17 Rough Wind

Rough wind that moanest loud,
Grief too sad for song;
Wild wind when sullen cloud
Knells all [the]1 night long;
Sad storm, whose tears are vain,
Bare woods whose branches stain,
Deep caves and dreary main,
Wail! for the world's wrong.

Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)


18 A Sctoch lullaby (11 songs and harminizations)

Blaw! skirlin' win! raw, tirlin'win'!
Nowt reck we
In the byre the coo's gly an'warm,
By the fire na wink o' storm,
Whaup on the wing,
Snaw on the tree,
Thou wi' me
Thy mithers breast shall be thy rest
Close thy bonnie e'e.
Sleep! Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!
A' shieldit frae harm
Whiles couthie shall guard thee
Mither's arm.
Sleep! Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!
She'll still be near.
Naething shall fley thy rest,
Sae dinna fear
Sleep on thy mither's breast.

Charles Edmund Merril


19 A Sea Dirge (from 11 songs)
Full fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made:
Those are pearls that were his eyes,
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sex [sea] change
Into something rich and strange:
Seanymphs
hourly ring his knell.
Hark now I hear them, ding dong bell, ding dong bell.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616)


20 The sea of sleep

Good night, my care and my sorrow,
I'm launching on the deep -
And till the dawning morrow
Shall sail the sea of sleep.

Good night, my care and my sorrow,
Good night and maybe goodby -
For I may wake on the morrow
Beneath another sky.

Unknown author


21 The See'r

An old man with a straw in his mouth
sat all day long before the village grocery store;
he liked to watch the funny things a going, going, going by!

Charles Ives


22 Sehnsucht

Ich konnte heute nicht schlafen
Mich weckt die Nachtigall!
Mein Ohr ihre Töne trafen
Vom Wald mit hellem Schall.

Mein Fenster, das öffnet' ich leise
Und starrt' in das Nachtrevier
Und ließ die süße Weise
Singen, singen von dir.

Dein denk' ich mit Herz und Munde
Und sende dir meinen Blick,
Du schlugest mir die tiefste Wunde,
Nicht Antwort gibst du zurück,

Nur Seufzer im nächtlichen Winde,
Vom Zweige ein Wink so fern,
Nur kühler, kühler Tau der Linde,
Kalt vom hohen Stern.

Glaub' nicht ich konnte dich vergessen,
Vertrau' der Liebe, der Liebe Macht,
Will tief in das Herz dich pressen,
Und tragen durch Grabesnacht

Zu leuchtendem Sternengefunkel,
Wo Liebe vergehet nicht,
Trotz Tod, Tod und schaurigem Dunkel,
Dich zum Himmelslicht.

Christian Winther (17961876)


23 September

And in September, falcons, astors, merlins, sparrowhawks;
Decoy birds that lure your game in flocks;
And hounds with bells; crossbows shooting out of sight;
Arblasts and javelins; all birds the best to fly;
And each to each of you shall be lavish still in gifts;
and robbery find no gainsaying;
And if you meet with travellers going by;
Their purses from your purse's flow shall fill;
And Avarice be the only outcast thing!

Folgore da San Gimignano (ca. 1275-before 1332),
translation by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)


24 Serenity

O Sabbath rest of Galilee!
O calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee
The silence of eternity
Interpreted by love.
Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.

John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892)


25 The Side Show

"Is that Mister Riley,
who keeps the hotel?"
is the tune that accomp'nies
the trotting-track bell;
An old horse unsound,
turns the merry-go-round,
making poor Mister Riley
look a bit like a Russian dance,
some speak of so highly,
as they do of Riley!


Charles Ives after P. Rooney


26 Slow March

One evening just at sunset we laid him in the grave;
Although a humble animal his heart was true and brave.
All the family joined us, in solemn march and slow,
From the garden place beneath the trees and where the sunflowers grow.

Charles Ives


27 Slugging a Vampire

I closed and drew, but not a gun,
The refuge of the weak,
I swung with the left and I swung with the right
And I landed on his beak.

He started to pull the same old stuff,
But I closed in hard and called his bluff
Yet his face is still astickin' in the yellow sheet
And on the billboard a-down the street.

Charles Ives


28 Soliloquy

When a man is sitting before the fire on the hearth, he says,
"Nature is a simple affair."
Then he looks out the window and sees a hailstorm, and begins to think that
"Nature can't be so eas'ly disposed of."

Anonymous


29 A Son of a Gambolier (from Five street songs)

Come join my humble ditty,
From Tippery town I steer,
Like ev'ry honest fellow,
I take my lager beer,
Like ev'ry honest fellow,
I take my whiskey clear.
I'm a rambling rake of poverty,
And a son of a Gambolier.

I wish I had a barrel of rum,
And sugar three hundred pound,
The college bell to mix it in,
The clapper to stir it round;
I'd drink the health of dear old Yale,
And friends both far and near.
I'm a rambling rake of poverty,
And a son of a Gambolier.

Charles Ives


30 Song

She is not fair to outward view
As many maidens be,
Her loveliness never knew
Until she smil’d on me;
Oh! Then I saw, Oh! Then I saw her eye was bright,
A well of love, a spring of light, a spring of light.

But now her looks are coy and cold,
To mine they ne’er reply,
And yet I cease not to behold
The lovelight in her eye:
Her very frowns are fairer far
Than smiles of other maidens are, than smiles of other maidens are.

Hartley Coleridge (1796-1849)


31 A Song -for anything a

1 Have mercy, Lord, on me,
as thou wert ever kind;
Let me, oppressed with loads of guilt,
thy wonted mercy find.

12 The joy thy favor gives
let me again obtain;
And thy free Spirit's firm support
my fainting soul sustain.

vss 1 & 12 of Psalm 51 by Brady and Tate (1696)



32- A Song -for anything b (in Sentimental ballads)

When the waves softly sigh,
When the sunbeams die;
When the night shadows fall,
Evening bells call,
Margarita! Margarita!
I think of thee!
While the silver moon is gleaming,
Of thee, I'm dreaming.

Yale, Farewell! we must part,
But in mind and heart,
We shall ever hold thee near,
Be life gay or drear.
Alma Mater! Alma Mater!
We will think of thee!
May the strength thou gavest
Ever be shown in ways, fair to see.

O have mercy Lord, on me,
Thou art ever kind,
O, let me oppress'd with guilt,
Thy mercy find.
The joy Thy favor gives,
Let me regain,
Thy free spirit's firm support
My fainting soul sustain.

Charles Ives


33- A Song for anything- c

Yale, farewell! we must part,
But in mind and heart,
We shall ever hold the near,
be life gay or drear.

Alma mater! Alma mater!
We will think of thee
May the strenght you gavest
Ever be shown in ways, fair to see.

Note:*The song above is a common illustration ! and not the only one in this book" of
how inferior music is inclined to follow inferior words and “vice-versa.” The music was
originally written to the sacred words printed last !and the best of the three." Some thirty
years ago it was sung in a country church and even as a response after the prayer. The
congregation not only tolerated it, but accepted it apparently with satisfaction. That
music of this character is less frequently heard in religious services now-a-days is one of
the signs of the wholesome progress of music in this country. An “Amen” was tacked onto
the end of this song; a relative of the composer remarked, at the time, that it was about
as appropriate to this kind of a tune as a benediction


34 Sonf of harvest season

Summer ended, harvest o’er,
Lord, to Thee our song we pour,
[For the valley’s golden yield,] for the Valleys
For the fruits of tree and field;

For the promise ever sure
That while Heaven and earth endure
Seed time Harvest, [cold] Earth and heat
Shall their yearly round complete;

Greville Phillimore


35 The Song of the Dead

Hear now the Song of the Dead,
Hear now the Song of the Dead –
in the North by the torn bergedges,
by the torn bergedges
They that look still to the Pole,
They that look still to the Pole,
Asleep by their hiddstripp’d sledges.
Song of the Dead in the South –
in the dust of the sere river-courses.

Song of the Dead in the East –
in the heatrotted jungle hollows.
Song of the Dead in the West –
in the Barrens, the snow that betray’d them,
the gravemound they made them.
Hear now the Song of the Dead,
Hear now the Song of the Dead!

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)


36 Songs my mother taught me

Songs my mother taught me in the days long vanished;
seldom from her eyelids were the teardrops banished.
Now I teach my children each melodious measure;
often tears are flowing from my mem'ry's treasure.
Songs my mother taught me in days long vanished;
seldom from her eyelids were the teardrops banished.

Adolf Heyduk (1835-1923),
translation by Natalie Macfarren (1826-1916)


37 The South Wind

When gently blows the South Wind
First through the Northern Wood,
With eagerness he goeth
where long a tree has stood.

He lifts the leafy cov'ring
that lies close at its base,
and there with sweetest welcome,
looks up his old love's face.

Beneath the snow she waits him
and keeps her leave's brave dress,
Her fair blossom opens
at his first caress.

Each year the flower greets him,
For him, for him alone,
her heart with love's beauty,
through her brief day has shone.

Harmony Twitchell after Heine


38 Spring Song

Across the hill of late, came spring
and stopped and looked into this wood
and called and called and called.
Now all the dry brown things are ans'wring,
With here a leaf and there a fair blown flow'r,
I only heard her not, and wait and wait.

Harmony Twitchell


39 Sunrise

A light low in the East,
As I lie there,
It shows but does not move,
A light, a light as a thought,
Forgotten comes again.
The forest world is waking,
A thousand leaves are beginning to gleam.
Later on, as I rise,
It shows through the trees,
And lights the dark grey rock,
And something in the mind,
And brings the quiet day.
And tomorrow, tomorrow,
The light as a thought,
Forgotten comes again, again,
And with it ever,
And with it ever,
The hope of the New Day.

Charles Ives
source http://www.newworldrecords.org/linernotes/80463.pdf

40 Swimmers

Then the swift plunge into the cool green dark,
the windy waters rushing past me, through me;
Filled with the sense of some heroic lark,
exulting in a vigor clean and roomy.
Swiftly I rose to meet the feline sea...
Pitting against a cold turbulent strife,
The feverish intensity of life...

Out of the foam I lurched and rode the wave
Swimming hand over hand, over hand, against the wind;
I felt the sea's vain pounding, and I grinned
knowing I was its master, not its slave.

Louis Untermeyer

Ives, Songs volume 6 : L’homme libre face à sa légende

Ce dernier volume des mélodies de Charles Ives contient certaines des pièces les plus engagées et témoigne de l’effort constant pour se libérer des habitudes acquises afin d’atteindre l’expression de la plénitude et de la singularité. On y devine le compositeur en proie à sa propre légende, dans l’intimité comme face au public, renouant avec la mémoire douloureuse, se préparant au silence de la longue stérilité et passant le témoin à des successeurs qu’il imagine plus doués.

Des mélodies allemandes de ses années d’études (Widmung, Ein Ton, Wiegenlied, Weil auf Mir… et leurs métamorphoses américaines, There is a Lane, The World’s wanderers), aux parodies de parlor songs (Waltz, When Stars are in the quiet Skies), en passant par les efforts de séduction envers ses proches (The World’s Highway, seule mélodie sur ses propres textes apprise par Harmony sa femme, To Edith, Two little Flowers, pour ses filles) Ives a abordé et épuisé tous les genres ; la place est faite pour un usage quotidien et citoyen de l’art, incluant l’engagement politique (William Will qui mélange le premier degré de la chanson militante et l’interlude d’une danse de Saint-Guy névrotique) distancié souvent (Vote for names, ou trois pianos symbolisent les vociférations des candidats et le chanteur la perplexité de l’électeur), culminant dans les Chansons de guerre qui restaurent le lien avec la patrie de l’enfance, où l’on parvient à évoquer un monde en peu de mots et encore moins de notes (Tom sails away). Ce que nos Pères aimaient par-dessus tout, selon le sous-titre de cette mélodie, c’est la Liberté, la mémoire diffuse d’éléments entrevus, les drapeaux sur le kiosque du square, la vibration lointaine de la harpe universelle qui bouge à travers les cloches (Those Evening Bells, en 1907 déjà) et les pins solitaires dans la citation parlée qui précède Thoreau, reprise du final de la deuxième sonate « Concord ».

They are there représente la contribution d’Ives à l’effort de guerre, adaptant He is there de 1917. La musique est toujours en mouvement, elle ne cesse d’évoluer vers d’autres versions d’elles-même dans un trajet qui passe par la plus complète anarchie, et réclame comme pour Universe, que d’autres s’aventurent à imaginer les mutations d’un matériel, réuni presque au hasard.

La rédaction « au propre » de 1943 est l’œuvre de Lou Harrison, le dispositif instrumental dérivant d’une version orchestrale d’Ives qui fait transmettre par sa femme diverses consignes concernant l’usage de sections de cuivres et tambours ad libitum qui n’apparaissent pas ici, où le chœur à l’unisson n’est rejoint que par un maigre piccolo. On possède de cette chanson différentes versions, toutes très rapides, par Ives lui-même (trois prises voix et piano le 24 avril 1943) où on l’entend se tromper dans les nouvelles paroles, improviser des clusters sans tonalité et varier l’hymne final, rajoutant divers « goddam » en cours de route, insistant sur le mépris des politiciens, pour finir sur l’avertissement au futur « they’ll be there » qui n’est pas dans le texte imprimé. « Ce n’est pas une chanson pour jolies voix – si les mots sont hurlés sans retenue, ça n’en ira que mieux ! »

They are there emprunte, comme la quatrième symphonie, en moins de trois minutes
à The Battle Cry of Freedom, Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean, Dixie's Land, Marching through Georgia, La Marseillaise, Maryland, Over There, Reveille, The Star Spangled Banner, Tenting on the Old Camp Ground, Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, Yankee Doodle, et la propre "Country Band" March d’Ives.


Au travers du questionnement littéraire et des fragments laissés en jachère (Walt Withman, Tolerance) l’artiste continue à tracer sa route, ne choisissant ni la danse ni les cérémonies (Walking), effleurant la réalité sociale misérable (West London) remettant en cause ses croyances et sa destinée (Two slants : Nascentes morimur finisque ab origine pendet,- étant nés nous devons mourir et notre fin est contenue dans notre origine-). Le choral Watchman, malmené par Ives pour le façonner à sa manière, repris de la 1ère sonate pour piano et violon et introduit dans le début de la 4è symphonie, symbolise le chemin parcouru, vers le doute, l’incertitude, et la contemplation polytonale d’un automne sans fruits (Yellow Leaves).

Si elle ne remplace pas complètement les versions historiques évoquées ici ou là (les premières accompagnées par Kirkpatrick, les lieder allemands de Dieskau) et ne rejette pas tout à fait dans l’oubli certains disques majeurs (les deux volumes de Finley chez Hypérion, celui de Susan Graham avec Aimard chez Warner Classics), cette intégrale apporte son lot de révélations, tant en ce qui concerne les œuvres que pour l’équipe remarquable que constituent Gardner, Carfizzi, Cavalieri, Pittsinger, Mary Philips, et l’indispensable pianiste Douglas Dickson. La place consacrée à ces six volumes dans ces pages suffit à souligner l’ampleur de l’événement. On aimerait maintenant que Naxos distribue un disque de florilège et l’ensemble en coffret, accompagné si possible de tous les textes et d’un livret un peu plus étoffé, permettant de se repérer dans les cycles envisagés par Ives et les correspondances entre les versions, quitte à augmenter légèrement le prix pour fournir ce qui n’est pas encore libre de droits. L’aventure reste de bout en bout passionnante quand bien même le voyage est parfois austère et réclame de l’auditeur une attention constante épaulée par l’étude attentive des partitions et des notes éditoriales. Après la publication en 2004 de l’édition critique des 129 songs il est évident que cet ensemble fera date dans l’histoire de la musique enregistrée.

Charles Ives. 129 Songs. Edited by H. Wiley Hitchcock. (Music of the United States of America, 12.)
(Recent Researches in American Music, 47.) Middleton, WI: A-R Editions, Inc., 2004. [Frontispiece (C. Ives, ca. 1947); foreword (Richard Crawford), p. xi; pref., p. xiii-xv; essay "Ives as Songwriter and Lyricist," p. xvii-lxxi; 9 plates; score, 389 p.; apparatus (sources, editorial method, reports), p. 391-477; literature cited, p. 479-84; appendix (texts of the 129 songs), p. 485-527. ISBN 0-89579-524-8. $250.]

L'édition des 114 songs révisées par Ives est téléchargeable sur IMSLP à l'adresse:
http://javanese.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/1/10/IMSLP29684-PMLP66688-Ives_-_114_Songs.pdf

--------------------------
1CD Naxos 8.559274 65’48
Charles Ives Songs volume 6
Lielle Berman, Jennifer casey Cabot, Sara Jakubiak, Sumi Kittelberger, sopranos
Amanda Ingram,Tamara Mumford, Mary Philips, Rebecca Ringle, Leah Wool, mezzos
Ryan McPherson, Matthew Plenk, Kenneth Tarver, ténors
Patrick Carfizzi, Michael Cavalieri, Robert Gardner, Diego Matamoros, Daniel Trevor Bircher, barytons
David Pittsinger, basse
Douglas Dickson, Laura Garritson, J-J. Penna, Eric Trudel, piano
Enregistré au Sprague Hall de l’université de Yale, USA de mai à juin 2005

http://www.naxos.com/sharedfiles/PDF/8.559274_sungtext.pdf


1 Tarrant Moss

I closed and drew for my Love's sake,
That now is false to me,
And I slew the Riever of Tarrant Moss,
And set Dumeny free.
And ever they give me praise and gold,
And ever I mourn my loss;
For I struck the blow for my false Love's sake,
And not for the men of the Moss!

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)



2 There is a certain garden

There is a certain garden where I know
That flowers flourish in a poet's spring,
Where aye young birds their [amorous]1 matins sing,
And never ill wind [comes]2, nor any snow.

But if you wonder where so fair a show,
Where such eternal pleasure may be seen,
I say, my memory keeps that garden green,
Wherein I loved my first love long ago.

Justin Huntly McCarthy


3 There is a lane

There is a lane which winds towards the bay
Passing a wood where the little children play;
There, summer evenings of days long past,
Learned I a love song, and my heart still holds it fast!

Charles Ives


4 They are there

There's a time in many a life,
when it's do though facing death
and our soldier boys will do their part
that people can live
in a world where all will have a say.
They're conscious always of their country's aim,
which is Liberty for all.
Hip hip hooray you'll hear them say
as they go to the fighting front.

Brave boys are now in action
They are there, they will help to free the world
They are fighting for the right
But when it comes to might,
They are there, they are there, they are there,
As the Allies beat up all the warhogs,
The boys'll be there fighting hard
and then the world will shout
the battle cry of Freedom.
Tenting on a new camp ground.

When we're through this cursed war,
All started by a sneaking gouger,
making slaves of men
Then let all the people rise,
and stand together in brave, kind Humanity.
Most wars are made by small stupid
selfish bossing groups
while the people have no say.
But there'll come a day
Hip hip Hooray
when they'll smash all dictators to the wall.

Then it's build a people's world nation Hooray
Ev'ry honest country free to live its own native life.
They will stand for the right,
but if it comes to might,
They are there, they are there, they are there.
Then the people, not just politicians
will rule their own lands and lives.
Then you'll hear the whole universe
shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
Tenting on a new camp ground.

Charles Ives


5 The things our fathers loved
subtitle: and the greatest of these was Liberty

I think there must be a place in the soul
all made of tunes, of tunes of long ago;
I hear the organ on the Main Street corner,
Aunt Sarah humming Gospels; Summer evenings,
The village cornet band, playing in the square.
The town's Red, White and Blue,
all Red, White and Blue; Now! Hear the words
But they sing in my soul of the things our Fathers loved.

Charles Ives


6 Thoreau

He grew in those seasons like corn in the night,
rapt in revery, on the Walden shore,
amidst the sumach, pines and hickories,
in undisturbed solitude.

Charles Ives


7 Those Evening Bells

Those evening bells! those evening bells!
Many a tale their music tells,
Of youth, and home, and that sweet time
When last I heard their soothing chime.
And so 'twill be when I'm gone:
That tuneful peal will still ring on;
While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells!

Thomas Moore (1779-1852)


8 Through night and day

I dream of thee, my love, by night,
I think of thee by day, by day;
As long as God may grant me light,
I will be thy stay.
THe night is dark, the day is long,
Unblest with thoughts of thee,
Too dull to meet the sweetest song,
Unless its theme thou be.
So all day long, and all night,
Whether on the land or sea,
I'll love fore'er with all my might,
That love's all for thee.

Charles Ives after J.S.B. Monsell


9 To Edith

So like a flower,
thy little four year face in its pure freshness
That to my bedside comes each morn
in happy guise - I must be smiling too.
O, little flower-like face that comes to me,
each morn for kisses -
Bend thou near me while I inhale its fragrance sweet
and put a blessing there.

Harmony Twitchell


10 Tolerance

How can I turn from any fire,
On any man's hearthstone?
I know the longing and desire
That went to build my own!

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)


11 Tom sails away (3 songs of war)

Scenes from my childhood are with me,
I'm in the lot behind our house upon the hill,
A spring day's sun is setting,
mother with Tom in her arms
is coming towards the garden;
the lettuce rows are showing green.
Thinner grows the smoke o'er the town,
stronger comes the breeze from the ridge,
'Tis after six, the whistles have blown,
the milk train's gone down the valley
Daddy is coming up the hill from the mill,
We run down the lane to meet him
But today! In freedom's cause Tom sailed away
for over there, over there!
Scenes from my childhood
are floating before my eyes.

Charles Ives


12 Ein Ton

Mir klingt ein Ton so wunderbar
In Herz und Sinnen immerdar.
Ist es der Hauch, der dir entschwebt,
Als einmal noch dein Mund gebebt?
Ist es des Glöckleins trüber Klang,
Der dir gefolgt den Weg entlang?
Mir klingt der Ton so voll und rein,
Als schlöß er deine Seele ein.
Als stiegest liebend nieder du
Und sängest meinen Schmerz in Ruh.

Peter Cornelius (1824-1874)


13 Two little flowers (and dedicated to them)

On sunny days in our backyard,
two little flowers are seen,
One dressed, at times, in brightest pink
and one in green.
The marigold is radiant,
the rose passing fair;
The violet is ever dear,
the orchid, ever rare;
There's lovliness in wild flow'rs
of field or wide savannah,
But fairest, rarest of them all
are Edith and Susanna.

Charles and Harmony Ives


14 & 15 Two Slants (Christian and Pagan)

a. Duty
So nigh is grandeur to our dust,
So near is God to man,
When Duty whispers low,
Thou must,
The youth replies,
I can.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (18031882)

b. Vita
Nascentes morimur, finisque ab origine pendet.
(Being born, we are to die, and our end is ordained
from our beginning.)

Marcus Manilius (fl. 20 a.d.)


16 Vote for names

Vote for names! Names! Names! All nice men!!
Three nice men: Teddy, Woodrow and Bill.
After (high octave) trying (gliss. up) hard (gliss. up) to think what's the (high) best way (gliss. down) to (tremble) vote (normal voice) I say: Just walk right in and grab a ballot (chanted) with the eyes shut and walk right out (gliss. up then down) a-gain.

Charles Ives


17 The Waiting Soul

Breathe from the gentle south,
Cheer me from the north; Blow on the treasures of thy word,
Call the spices forth!
Help me to reach the distant goal;
Confirm my feeble knee; Pity the sickness of a soul
That faints for love of thee!
Cold as I feel this heart of mine,
Yet, since I feel it so, It yields some hope of life divine.
Till the dear Deliverer come, I'll wait with humble prayer.

John Newton (1725-1807)


18 Walking

A big October morning,
the village church-bells,
the road along the ridge,
the chestnut burr and sumach,
the hills above the bridge
with autumn colors glow.
Now we strike a steady gait,
walking towards the future,
letting past and present wait,
we push on in the sun,
Now hark! Something bids us pause...
But we keep on a walking,
'tis yet not noon-day,
the road still calls us onward,
today we do not choose to die
or to dance, but to live and walk.

Charles Ives


19 Walt Whitman

Who goes there! hankering, gross, mystical and nude?
How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?
What is man, anyhow?
What am I? What are you?
All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own,
Else it were time lost alistening to me.

Walt Whitman (1819-1892)


20 Waltz

Round and round the old dance ground,
Went the whirling throng,
Moved with wine and song;
Little Annie Rooney,
(now Mrs. Mooney,)
Was as gay as birds in May,
s'her Wedding Day.

Far and wide's the fame of the bride,
Also of her beau,
Every one knows it's "Joe;"
Little Annie Rooney,
(now J. P. Mooney,)
All that day, held full sway
o'er Av'nue A!
"An old sweetheart!"

Charles Ives


21 Watchman!

Watchman, tell us of the night,
What its signs of promise are.
Trav'ler, o'er yon mountain's height,
See that glorybeaming
star!
Watchman, aught of joy or hope?
Trav'ler, Yes!
Trav'ler, Yes!
Trav'ler, yes; it brings the day,
Promised day of Israel.
Dost thou see its beauteous ray?
Trav'ler, see!

John Bowring (1792-1872)


22 Weil' auf mir

Weil' auf mir, du dunkles Auge,
übe deine ganze Macht,
Ernste, milde, träumerische,
unergründlich süsse Nacht.
Nimm mit deinem Zauber dunkel
diese Welt von hinnen mir,
Dass du über meinem Leben
einsam schwebest für und für.

Nikolaus Lenau (1802-1850)


23 West London

Crouch'd on the pavement, close by Belgrave Square,
A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and tonguetied;
A babe was in her arms, and at her side
A girl; their clothes were rags, their feet were bare.
Some labouring men, whose work lay somewhere there,
Pass'd opposite; she touched her girl, who hied
Across, and begg'd, and came back satisfied.
The rich she had let pass with a frozen stare.
Thought I: Above her state this spirit towers;
She will not ask of aliens, but of friends,
Of sharers in a common human fate.
She turns from that cold succour, which attends
The unknown little from the unknowing great,
And points us to a better time than ours.'

Matthew Arnold (1822-1888)


24 When Stars are in the Quiet Skies

When stars are in the quiet skies,
Then most I long for thee;
O bend on me thy tender eyes,
As stars look down upon the peaceful sea.
For thoughts, like waves that glide by night,
Are stillest where they shine;
All my love lies hushed in light
Beneath the heav'n of thine.
There is an hour when holy dreams
Through slumber fairest glide;
And in that mystic hour it seems
Thou shouldst be ever at my side.
The thoughts of thee too sacred are
For daylight's common beam;
I can but know thee as my star, my guiding star,
My angel, and my dream!

Edward George Earle Bulwer Lytton (1803-1873)


25 Where the Eagle Cannot See

Where the eagle cannot see,
Where cold winds can never be,
Where the sun's bright course doth glow
Very, very far below,
There, in everlasting rest,
Dwell those saints whom
Death hath blest;
There, in everlasting rest.

Monica Peveril Turnbull (1879-1901)


27 Widmung

O danke nicht für diese Lieder,
Mir ziemt es dankbar dir zu sein;
Du gabst sie mir, ich gebe wieder,
Was jetzt und einst und ewig, ewig, dein.
Dein sind sie alle ja gewesen;
Aus deiner lieben Augen Licht
Hab ich sie treulich abgelesen:
Kennst du, ach kennst du die eignen Lieder nicht?

(Karl) Wolfgang Müller von Königswinter (1816-1873)

28 Wie Melodien zieht es mir

Wie Melodien zieht es mire leise durch den Sinn,
wie Frühlingsblumen blüht es und schwebt wie Duft dahin,
wie Frühlingsblumen blüht es und schwebt wie Duft dahin.
Doch kommt das Wort und fast es und führt es vor das Aug’,
wie Nebelgrau erblasst es und schwindet wie ein Hauch,
wie Nebelgrau erblasst es und schwindet wie ein Hauch.
Und dennoch ruht im Reime verborgen wohl en Duft,
den mild aus stillem Keime ein feuchtes Auge ruft,
den mild aus stillem Keime ein feuchtes Auge ruft.

Klaus Groth (1819-1899)


29 Wiegenlied
from Des Knaben Wunderhorn

Guten Abend, gute Nacht, mit Rosen bedacht,
mit Nägelein besteckt, schlupf’ unter die Deck’:
Morgen früh, wenn Gott es will, wirst du wieder aufgeweckt.
Guten Abend, gute Nacht, bon Engelein bewacht,
Die zeigen im Traum dir Christkindleins Baum:
Schlaf’ nun selig und süss, schau’ im Traum das Paradies.

Georg Scherer (18241909)


30 William Will

A Republican Campaign Song
(Poetry by Susan Benedict Hill, 1836-1898)

What we want is Honest Money,
Good as gold and pure as honey,
Ev'ry dollar sound and true.
What we want is full Protection,
And we'll have it next Election,
For low tariff and low wages make us blue.

So hurrah for Will McKinley and his Bill!
And stand for Honest Money, William will!
So hurrah for Will McKinley,
he who made the tariff bill!
And be ruler of this Nation William will.

Give us no depreciation
With a Silver variation;
Juggle not the workman's pence!
For it rouses all his choler,
When he finds his well earn'd dollar
Has whittled down to only fifty cents!

So hurrah...

Billy Bryan isn't "in it"
Not a single noisy minute,
For McKinley's here himself!
"Rabbit's foot" and "four-leaf clover,"
When election day is over,
Will be laid to rest upon a quiet shelf!

So hurrah...

Down with all Repudiation!
No dishonor for our Nation!
As we promise we will pay!
And we soon shall hear the humming
Of the good times that are coming
When McKinley, surnam'd William, wins the day!

So hurrah...



31 The world's highway

For long I wander'd happily
Far out on the world's highway:
My heart was brave for each new thing
And I loved the far away

I watch'd the gay bright people dance,
We laughed, for the road was good.
But Oh! I passed where the way was rough
I saw it stained with blood.

I wander'd on till I tired grew,
Far on the world's highway,
My heart was sad for what I saw
I feared, I feard the far away.

So when one day, O sweetest day
I came to a garden small,
A voice my heart knew called me in,
I answered its blessed call;

I left my wand'ring far and wide
The free domand far away
But my garden blooms with sweet content
That's not on the world's highway.

Harmony Twitchell


32 The world's wanderers

Tell me, [thou] Star, whose wings of light
Speed thee in thy fiery flight,
In what cavern of the night
Will thy pinions close now?

Tell me, Moon, thou pale and grey
Pilgrim, of Heav'ns homeless way,
In what depth of night or day,
Seekest thou repose now?

Weary wind, who wanderest
Like the world's rejected guest
Hast thou still some secret nest
On the tree or billow?

Percy Bysshe Shelley


33 Yellow leaves

Heart shaped yellow leaves
on thin brown switches
pointing upward like taper
flames in windless naves.
Yellow leaves among the green
like gold coins deep,
deep, deep in old fountains.

Heinrich Hauer Bellaman

Charles Ives grand public par la reine Hahn

Il existe de très nombreuses versions des quatre sonates pour piano et violon achevées de Charles Ives (et quelques unes même de la pre-first sonata et d’une cinquième dont le matériel servit à Holidays symphony), mais aucune intégrale n’émane de solistes de la stature d’Hilary Hahn et de Valentina Lisitsa, qui les ont beaucoup travaillées en concert avant de se résoudre à les enregistrer. Parmi les versions isolées seul Szygeti, qui enregistra deux fois la quatrième peut prétendre à une notoriété comparable. Il est donc probable que cet enregistrement résulte d’une volonté des interprètes, et que curieusement leur maison de disques leur a pour une fois fait suffisamment confiance pour les laisser faire ! La réponse appropriée est au moins d’écouter avec attention le résultat.

« En nous abîmant les yeux sur la partition pour piano, Valentina et moi avons eu bien du mal à comprendre quelles notes allaient ensemble… C’était comme déchiffrer un code musical auquel nous n’étions que vaguement initiées » : témoigne de cela le fait que dès les premières mesures de la première sonate, Lisitsa prend presque légato la phrase explicitement notée staccato. Ce n’est que d’une importance très relative car tout le reste est en cohérence avec ce mouvement de départ (plus rapide qu’à l’habitude) et comme en témoigne d’autres interviews de Hahn, l’image musicale de ces œuvres change en fonction de la salle, de l’humeur, animée d’une vie propre, ce que nous renvoie aussi les rares enregistrements d’Ives lui-même, incapable de jouer deux fois la même chose et fusionnant les bribes de deux partitions à peine notées pour en recréer une nouvelle. Les trois premières sonates ont ainsi été assemblées vers 1914, reprenant des fragments de partitions disparues (ou encore repérables, les deux premières contenant quelques phrases de la pre-first sonata, la première elle-même incluant dans son troisième mouvement du matériel redistribué à partir de la deuxième et devant plus tard resservir (l’hymne Watchman) à l’introduction de la quatrième symphonie.

Quelques commentateurs ont voulu faire le parallèle entre la photo de couverture où Hilary Hahn s’estompe dans le flou lumineux tandis que Valentina Lisitsa paraît souveraine dans le noir, au premier plan, reprochant à la violoniste d’avoir volontairement atténué le son et le vibrato, et à la pianiste de jouer de la froideur d’un trop grand piano de concert. C’est au contraire ainsi qu’il se forme un équilibre, très difficile à trouver entre les partenaires (Hilary Hahn explique qu’il lui a fallu réapprendre avec le piano toute la partie de violon qu’elle croyait avoir maîtrisée seule). Et s’il y avait une critique à formuler, ce serait peut-être justement que Valentina Lisitsa se laisse par moment aller à un lyrisme excessif dans les développements lisztéens de certains solos, qui peuvent apparaître hors-style à ceux qui sont habitués à des versions plus sèches et austères de cette musique. Cette critique porterait surtout sur la première sonate, conformément à l’opinion d’Ives qui la décrit dans ses Mémos comme « un saut en arrière » vers la tradition européenne « quoiqu’en certains passages ce soit exactement le contraire » ! Et si l’on en venait à reprocher aux interprètes le manque d’humour qui n’isole pas suffisamment The old oaken Bucket ou The shining Shore, on fera remarquer avec quel art les deux partenaires parviennent à fondre les citations saillantes dans la texture d’ensemble, évitant ainsi l’aspect rhapsodique de certains passages que d’aucuns décriraient ailleurs comme des maladresses.

A ceux qui ne voient pas où est l’humour on recommandera le deuxième mouvement de la deuxième sonate Dans la grange (selon Ives la deuxième sonate est « basée largement sur des souvenirs de rag-time ») rythmiquement parfaitement rendu, où les échos de violoneux nous emmènent bien loin avec Sailor’s Hornpipe ou Turkey in the Straw de la pièce de salon que reflétait encore l’interprétation un peu trop lente des pionniers Daniel Stepner et John Kirkpatrick. Ajoutons à cela un mouvement final envoutant (basé sur un quatrième mouvement rejeté de la quatrième sonate) où l’hymne Nettleton se trouve suspendu à un pont évoquant une volée de cloches.

L’un des grands attraits de cette version est l’impression qu’on en conserve que les choses s’améliorent plus on entre dedans. La troisième sonate est peut-être celle que Hahn et Lisitsa ont le plus interrogée au cours de leurs tournées de concert, et cela se sent par la charge émotionnelle donnée au vaste mouvement de plus de douze minutes (un effort sans comparaison dans tout les reste du corpus, basé sur un ensemble de préludes pour orgue aujourd’hui perdus) : Ives n’était pas tendre non plus avec cette production (créée dès 1917) dans laquelle il voyait une « petite sœur pauvre » à cause de la « réversion » du troisième mouvement qui tentait « de plaire aux oreilles-tendres et de se montrer gentil ».

C’est l’occasion de souligner qu’en plus du texte d’Hilary Hahn fixant son approche des sonates, le livret (anglais, allemand, et français) fournit une analyse des œuvres bienvenue pour prendre l’auditeur par la main dans cet univers déroutant. Le ragtime qui sert encore une fois de mouvement médian est pris avec une vivacité étonnante, et contrairement à beaucoup d’interprétations concurrentes, il ne sombre pas dans la marche triomphale et la fanfare. Le vaste finale joue la carte d’un certain romantisme, renouvelant la vision, de la même façon qu’Hilary Hahn avait réussi à éclairer l’impénétrable concerto de Schönberg, devenu sous ses doigts un objet de beauté et non plus d’admiration stérile. Quelque critique qu’on puisse émettre sur la façon un peu classique d’aborder ces partitions, il s’y passe constamment quelque chose, qui entraîne l’auditeur vers une dimension inconnue, et, les écouterait-on seulement en fond sonore, il est certain qu’un passage fera toujours dresser l’oreille.

La quatrième sonate, la plus connue, peut-être la plus évidente (dans son rapport à la troisième symphonie elle est aussi sous-titrée Children at the camp meeting), destinée au départ au neveu d’Ives qui ne put jamais la jouer (-et son professeur non plus- ajoute l’auteur, car la structure se complexifie d’un mouvement à l’autre) fut la première publiée du groupe. Ici l’émotion parle d’elle-même, dans les splendides variations répétitives du deuxième mouvement sur Jesus loves me et l’extinction du très court final dans le thème Gathering at the River : Hahn atteint à une parfaite maîtrise du son, mesurant le détachement et les retard nécessaires, et nous laissant entrer dans un silence frustrant quand arrive la fin abrupte de ce disque dont il faut souligner encore une fois plus la cohérence générale que la conformité à un style ou aux partitions qui ne sont jamais ici que des indications variables d’interprétation ; et l’intuition du duo Hahn-Lisitsa fonctionne pleinement.

Dans les photos de l’ancienne ferme qu’est le lieu d’enregistrement, quand Hilary Hahn a revêtu sa robe western, on s’attend à voir surgir le fantôme de Charles Ives, à qui Hahn ne manqua pas de souhaiter un bon anniversaire, du violon, après avoir fait chanter au public quelques hymnes de congrégations, lorsqu’elle rejoua les sonates 1 et 4 pour la promotion de son disque à The Stone, Alphabet City, annonçant à son public « Welcome to the Ives CD geekout party! » C’est dans cet esprit qu’il faut prendre ce disque, en espérant qu’il ouvre la porte à une reconnaissance internationale de ce répertoire encore confidentiel en Europe.
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Charles ives (1874-1954) Les quatre sonates pour piano et violon
Hilary Hahn, violon, Valentina Lisitsa, piano
1CD Deutsche Grammophon 477 9435
Enregistré au Clubhouse in Rhinebeck, New York en 2011