Recital: Juliette Lee Kaoudji '22 MM, Mezzo-Soprano
NEC's students meet one-on-one each week with a faculty artist to perfect their craft. As each one leaves NEC to make their mark in the performance world, they present a full, professional recital that is free and open to the public. It's your first look at the artists of tomorrow.
Juliette Lee Kaoudji '22 MM studies Voice with Carole Haber and is the recipient of the Sylvia C. Segal Voice Scholarship.
This performance is open to in-person audiences, and can also be viewed below via livestream.
- Juliette Lee Kaoudji '22 MM, mezzo-soprano
- Tanya Blaich, piano
- Carole Haber, studio teacher
Johann Sebastian Bach | "Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris" from Mass in B Minor, BWV 232
Text
Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris
Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris, miserere nobis.
You who sit at the right hand of the Father, have mercy upon usArtists- Amanda Hardy, oboe d'amore
Johannes Brahms
Es träumte mir
Die Schnur, die Perl und Perle
O kühler Wald
BotschaftText
Es träumte mir
Es träumte mir,
Ich sei dir teuer;
Doch zu erwachen
Bedurft ich kaum.
Denn schon im Traume
Bereits empfand ich,
Es sei ein Traum.
Georg Friedrich Daumer
Die Schnur, die Perl an Perle
Die Schnur, die Perl an Perle
Um deinen Hals gereihte,
Wie wiegt sie sich so fröhlich
Auf deiner schönen Brust!
Mit Seel’ und Sinn begabet,
Mit Seligkeit berauschet
Sie, diese Götterlust.
Was müssen wir erst fühlen,
In welchen Herzen schlagen,
So heisse Menschenherzen,
Wofern es uns gestattet,
Uns traulich anzuschmiegen
An eine solche Brust!
Georg Friedrich Daumer
O kühler Wald
O kühler Wald,
Wo rauschest du,
In dem mein Liebchen geht?
O Widerhall,
Wo lauschest du,
Der gern mein Lied versteht?
Im Herzen tief,
Da rauscht der Wald,
In dem mein Liebchen geht,
In Schmerzen schlief
Der Widerhall,
Die Lieder sind verweht.
Clemens Brentano
Botschaft
Wehe, Lüftchen, lind und lieblich
Um die Wange der Geliebten,
Spiele zart in ihrer Locke,
Eile nicht, hinwegzufliehn!
Tut sie dann vielleicht die Frage,
Wie es um mich Armen stehe,
Sprich: „Unendlich war sein Wehe,
Höchst bedenklich seine Lage;
Aber jetzo kann er hoffen
Wieder herrlich aufzuleben,
Denn du, Holde, denkst an ihn.“
Georg Friedrich DaumerI dreamed
I dreamed
I was dear to you;
But I scarcely needed
To awaken.
For even in my dreams
I felt
It was a dream.
The necklace with its rows of pearls
The necklace with its rows of pearls
Looped about your throat,
How happily it lies cradled
On your beautiful breast!
This divine delight endow it
With soul and feeling
And intoxicating bliss.
What must we not feel,
In whom hearts beat,
Such ardent human hearts,
If we are permitted
To nestle closely
On such a breast!
O cool forest
O cool forest,
In which my beloved walks,
Where are you murmuring?
O echo,
Where are you listening,
Who love to understand my song?
Deep in the heart
Is where the forest murmurs,
In which my beloved walks,
The echo
Fell asleep in sorrow,
The songs have blown away
A Message
Blow breeze, gently and sweetly
About the cheek of my beloved,
Play softly with her tresses,
Make no haste to fly away!
Then if she should chance to ask
How things are with wretched me,
Say: ‘His sorrow’s been unending,
His condition most grave;
But now he can hope
To revel in life once more,
For you, fair one, think of him.’
Translations © Richard Stokes, author of The Book of Lieder, published by Faber, provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)Frank Bridge | Three Songs
Far, far from each other
Music, when soft voices die
Where is it that our soul doth go?Text
Far, far from each other
Far, far from each other
Our spirits have grown.
And what heart knows another?
Ah! who knows his own?
Blow, ye winds! lift me with you
I come to the wild.
Fold closely, O Nature!
Thine arms round thy child.
Ah, calm me! restore me
And dry up my tears
On thy high mountain platforms,
Where Morn first appears.
Mathew Arnold
Music, when soft voices die
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Where is it that our soul doth go?
One thing I'd know: when we have perished,
Where is it that our soul doth go?
Where is the fire that is extinguished?
Where is the wind but now did blow?
Heinrich Heine, trans. by K. F. KroeckerArtists- Katherine Purcell, viola
Francis Poulenc | Banalités, FP 107
Chanson d’Orkenise
Hôtel
Fagnes de Wallonie
Voyage à Paris
SanglotsText
Chanson d’Orkenise
Par les portes d’Orkenise
Veut entrer un charretier.
Par les portes d’Orkenise
Veut sortir un va-nu-pieds.
Et les gardes de la ville
Courant sus au va-nu-pieds:
‘Qu’ emportes-tu de la ville?’
‘J’y laisse mon cœur entier.’
Et les gardes de la ville
Courant sus au charretier:
‘Qu’apportes-tu dans la ville?’
‘Mon coeur pour me marier!’
Que de coeurs, dans Orkenise!
Les gardes riaient, riaient.
Va-nu-pieds la route est grise,
L’amour grise, ô charretier.
Les beaux gardes de la ville
Tricotaient superbement;
Puis les portes de la ville
Se fermèrent lentement.
Hôtel
Ma chambre a la forme d’une cage
Le soleil passe son bras par la fenêtre
Mais moi qui veux fumer pour faire des mirages
J’allume au feu du jour ma cigarette
Je ne veux pas travailler je veux fumer
Fagnes de Wallonie
Tant de tristesses plénières
Prirent mon coeur aux fagnes désolées
Quand las j’ai reposé dans les sapinières
Le poids des kilomètres pendant que râlait
le vent d’ouest
J’avais quitté le joli bois
Les écureuils y sont restés
Ma pipe essayait de faire des nuages
Au ciel
Qui restait pur obstinément
Je n’ai confié aucun secret sinon une chanson énigmatique
Aux tourbières humides
Les bruyères fleurant le miel
Attiraient les abeilles
Et mes pieds endoloris
Foulaient les myrtilles et les airelles
Tendrement mariée
Nord
Nord
La vie s’y tord
En arbres forts
Et tors
La vie y mord
La mort
À belles dents
Quand bruit le vent
Voyage à Paris
Ah! la charmante chose
Quitter un pays morose
Pour Paris
Paris joli
Qu’un jour
Dut créer l’Amour
Sanglots
Notre amour est réglé par les calmes étoiles
Or nous savons qu’en nous beaucoup d’hommes respirent
Qui vinrent de très loin et sont un sous nos fronts
C’est la chanson des rêveurs
Qui s’étaient arraché le coeur
Et le portaient dans la main droite
Souviens-t’en cher orgueil de tous ces souvenirs
Des marins qui chantaient comme des conquérants
Des gouffres de Thulé des tendres cieux d’Ophir
Des malades maudits de ceux qui fuient leur ombre
Et du retour joyeux des heureux émigrants
De ce coeur il coulait du sang
Et le rêveur allait pensant
A sa blessure délicate
Tu ne briseras pas la chaîne de ces causes
Et douloureuse et nous disait
Qui sont les effets d’autres causes
Mon pauvre coeur mon coeur brisé
Pareil au coeur de tous les hommes
Voici voici nos mains que la vie fit esclaves
Est mort d’amour ou c’est tout comme
Est mort d’amour et le voici
Ainsi vont toutes choses,
Arrachez donc le vôtre aussi
Et rien ne sera libre jusqu’à la fin des temps
Laissons tout aux morts
Et cachons nos sanglots
Guillaume ApollinaireSong of Orkenise
Through the gates of Orkenise
A waggoner wants to enter.
Through the gates of Orkenise
A vagabond wants to leave.
And the sentries guarding the town
Rush up to the vagabond:
'What are you taking from the town?'
'I'm leaving my whole heart behind.'
And the sentries guarding the town
Rush up to the waggoner:
'What are you carrying into the town?'
'My heart in order to marry.'
So many hearts in Orkenise!
The sentries laughed and laughed:
Vagabond, the road's not merry,
Love makes you merry, O waggoner!
The handsome sentries guarding the town
Knitted vaingloriously;
The gates of the town then
Slowly closed.
Hotel
My room is shaped like a cage
The sun puts its arm through the window
But I who would like to smoke to make mirages
I light my cigarette on daylight's fire
I do not want to work I want to smoke
Walloon moss-hags
So much utter sadness
Seized my heart in the desolate upland moss-hags
When weary I set down in the fir plantation
The weight of kilometres to the roar
Of the west wind
I had left the pretty wood
The squirrels stayed there
My pipe tried to make clouds
In the sky
Which stubbornly stayed clear
I confided no secret but an enigmatic song
To the dank peat-bogs
The honey-fragrant heather
Attracted the bees
And my sore feet
Crushed bilberries and whortleberries
Tenderly united
North
North
Life is gnarled there
In strong trees
And twisted
Life there bites
Death
Voraciously
When the wind howls
Trip to Paris
Oh! how delightful
To leave a dismal
Place for Paris
Charming Paris
That one day
Love must have made
Sobs
Our love is governed by the calm stars
Now we know that in us many men have their being
Who came from afar and are one beneath our
brows
It is the song of the dreamers
Who tore out their hearts
And carried it in their right hand
(Remember dear pride all these memories
The sailors who sang like conquerors
The chasms of Thule the gentle Ophir skies
The accursed sick those who flee their shadows
And the joyous return of happy emigrants)
This heart ran with blood
And the dreamer kept thinking
Of his delicate wound
(You shall not break the chain of these causes)
Of his painful wound and said to us
(Which are the effects of other causes)
My poor heart my broken heart
Like the hearts of all men
(Here here are our hands that life enslaved)
Has died of love or so it seems
Has died of love and here it is
Such is the fate of all things
So tear out yours too
(And nothing will be free till the end of time)
Let us leave all to the dead
And conceal our sobs
Translations © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion, (Oxford University Press), provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)This program is dedicated in loving memory of Dante W. Crisafi (2001- 2021).
I want to deeply thank my mentors Kate and Tom Kush for believing in my goals and aspirations in life since I was 15.
I want to express my lifelong gratitude to my voice teacher Ms. Carole Haber for teaching me how to sing.
I want to thank my recital coach Tanya Blaich for helping me find authenticity in artistic expression,
and my collaborators Amanda Hardy and Katherine Purcell for their care and musical excellence.Lastly, I would like to express my love and adoration for my mother Lorraine
for always doing her very best to make me happy.