SARA BRUTON,
VOICE

AMANDA SHERILL,
PIANO

KATHLEEN
STRAHM,
VIOLIN
DOCTORAL RECITAL SERIES
RECITAL HALL
FEBRUARY 8, 2017 • 7:30

llrt 1· Herberger Institute

~FOR
ARIZONA

DESIGN AND THE ARTS

STATE

UNIVERSITY

School of Music

Nanna's Lied
(1898-1956)

Program
I
Claude Debussy
(1862-1918)

Beau Soir
II Pleure dans mon Coeur
Romance
Chevaux de bois
II
Berlin im Licht
Es regnet
Nanna's Lied

Kurt Weill
(1900-1950)

Bertolt Brecht

l.
Gentlemen, I was only seventeen when
I landed on the love market. And I learned
a lot of things-mostly bad, but that was the
game. Still I resented much of it.
(After all, l am a human being.)
Refrain:
Thank God, it all goes by quickly-both the
love and the sorrow. Where are the tears
of last night? Where are the snows of years gone by?

**There will be a JO-minute intermission**
2.

III
Alphabet City Cycle
With Kathleen Strahm, Violin
Georgia Stitt
The Wanting of You
(b. 1972)
The student on A venue B
Almost Everything I Need
The divorcee on A venue C
Lyrics: Marcy Heisler
I Hardly Remember
(b. 1967)
The Widow on A venue D
Blanket in July
The Jilted Actress in Tompkins Square Park
Sunday Light
The Lover on A venue A
IV
Zina Goldrich
Alto's Lament
(b. 196
15 Pounds
Lyrics: Marcy Heisler
I Want Them ... Bald
(b. 1967)

As the years go by, it gets easier on the love
market-easier to embrace a whole troop there.
But it's amazing how your feelings cool off when
you're stingy with them. (After all, everything
gets used up eventually.)
(Refrain)
3.
And although you learn the tricks of the trade
on the love market, it's never easy to convert lust
into small change. Still it can be done, but meanwhile
you get a little older. (After all, you can't stay
seventeen forever.)
(Refrain)
Translation by Kim H. Kowalke

So what then? What kind of a city is it?

Beau Soir

Come on, turn on the lights so we can
see what there is to see.
Come on, turn on the lights and don't say another word.
Come on, turn on the lights so we can
see for sure what the big deal is:
Berlin in Lights.
Translation by Kirn H. Kowalke

Es regnet

Kurt Weill
(1900-1950)

I ask nothing. I must not ask.
You have told me not to.
But do I hear your car? Then I think,
should I say something? Or should
I say nothing? It's all said in your look.
Do you believe that only the mouth speaks?
Eyes are like windows. One can always see
through any window. And if you close them,
everything seems worse. My eyes hear
something different from from my ears.
I was born to bear pain. Let me look
through the window. Let me look!
The sun can no longer shine. "It's raining,"
says the window. It says only what it
thinks. Let us weep together!
Translation by Kim H. Kowalke

Paul Bourget
(1852-1935)

When streams turn pink in the setting sun,
And a slight shudder rushes through the wheat fields,
A plea for happiness seems to rise out of all things
And it climbs up towards the troubled heart.
A plea to relish the charm of life

While there is youth and the evening is fair,
For we pass away, as the wave passes:
The wave to the sea, we to the grave.
Translation by Leslie McEwen

II Pleure Dans Mon Coeur
There is weeping in my heart
like the rain falling on the town.
What is this languor
that pervades my heart?
Oh the patter of the rain
on the ground and the roofs!
For a heart growing weary
oh the song of the rain!
There is weeping without cause
in this disheartened heart.
What! No betrayal?
There's no reason for this grief.
Truly the worst pain
is not knowing why,
without love or hatred,

Paul Verlain
(1844-1896)

my heart feels so much pain.
Translation by Peter Low

Romance

Paul Bourget
(1852-1935)

The vanishing and suffering soul,
The sweet soul, the fragrant soul
Of divine lilies that I have picked
In the garden of your thoughts,
Where, then, have the winds chased it,
This charming soul of the lilies?
Is there no longer a perfume that remains
Of the celestial sweetness
Of the days when you enveloped me
In a supernatural haze,
Made of hope, of faithful love,
Of bliss and of peace?
Translation by Korin Kormick

Chevaux de Bois
Tum, turn, good horses of wood,
turn a hundred turns, tum a thousand turns,
tum often and turn always,
turn, turn to the sound of the oboes.
The red-faced child and pale mother,
the boy in black and the girl in pink,
the one pursuing and the other posing,
each getting a penny's worth of Sunday fun.
Turn, tum, horses of their hearts,

Paul Verlain
(1844-1896)

while all around your turning
squints the sly pickpocket's eye -turn to the sound of the victorious cornet.
It is astonishing how it intoxicates you
to go around this way in a stupid circle,
nothing in your tummy and an ache in your head,
very sick and having lots of fun.
Tum, wooden horses, with no need
ever to use spurs
to command you to gallop around,
tum, turn, with no hope for hay.
And hurry, horses of their souls-hear the supper bell already,
the night that is falling and chasing the troop
of merry drinkers, famished by their thirst.
Tum, tum! The velvet sky
is slowly clothed with golden stars.
The church bell tolls sadly.
Turn, to the happy sound of drums.
Translation by John Glenn Paton

Berlin im Licht
Sunshine may be enough when
you go for a walk, but the sun isn't
enough to light up the city of Berlin.
It's no little hick-town, it's one helluva city!
If you want to see everything there,
you've got to use a fow watts.

Kurt Weill
(1900-1950)

So what then? What kind of a city is it?

Beau Soir

Come on, turn on the lights so we can
see what there is to see.
Come on, turn on the lights and don't say another word.
Come on, turn on the lights so we can
see for sure what the big deal is:
Berlin in Lights.
Translation by Kirn H. Kowalke

Es regnet

Kurt Weill
(1900-1950)

I ask nothing. I must not ask.
You have told me not to.
But do I hear your car? Then I think,
should I say something? Or should
I say nothing? It's all said in your look.
Do you believe that only the mouth speaks?
Eyes are like windows. One can always see
through any window. And if you close them,
everything seems worse. My eyes hear
something different from from my ears.
I was born to bear pain. Let me look
through the window. Let me look!
The sun can no longer shine. "It's raining,"
says the window. It says only what it
thinks. Let us weep together!
Translation by Kim H. Kowalke

Paul Bourget
(1852-1935)

When streams turn pink in the setting sun,
And a slight shudder rushes through the wheat fields,
A plea for happiness seems to rise out of all things
And it climbs up towards the troubled heart.
A plea to relish the charm of life

While there is youth and the evening is fair,
For we pass away, as the wave passes:
The wave to the sea, we to the grave.
Translation by Leslie McEwen

II Pleure Dans Mon Coeur
There is weeping in my heart
like the rain falling on the town.
What is this languor
that pervades my heart?
Oh the patter of the rain
on the ground and the roofs!
For a heart growing weary
oh the song of the rain!
There is weeping without cause
in this disheartened heart.
What! No betrayal?
There's no reason for this grief.
Truly the worst pain
is not knowing why,
without love or hatred,

Paul Verlain
(1844-1896)

Nanna's Lied
(1898-1956)

Program
I
Claude Debussy
(1862-1918)

Beau Soir
II Pleure dans mon Coeur
Romance
Chevaux de bois
II
Berlin im Licht
Es regnet
Nanna's Lied

Kurt Weill
(1900-1950)

Bertolt Brecht

l.
Gentlemen, I was only seventeen when
I landed on the love market. And I learned
a lot of things-mostly bad, but that was the
game. Still I resented much of it.
(After all, l am a human being.)
Refrain:
Thank God, it all goes by quickly-both the
love and the sorrow. Where are the tears
of last night? Where are the snows of years gone by?

**There will be a JO-minute intermission**
2.

III
Alphabet City Cycle
With Kathleen Strahm, Violin
Georgia Stitt
The Wanting of You
(b. 1972)
The student on A venue B
Almost Everything I Need
The divorcee on A venue C
Lyrics: Marcy Heisler
I Hardly Remember
(b. 1967)
The Widow on A venue D
Blanket in July
The Jilted Actress in Tompkins Square Park
Sunday Light
The Lover on A venue A
IV
Zina Goldrich
Alto's Lament
(b. 196
15 Pounds
Lyrics: Marcy Heisler
I Want Them ... Bald
(b. 1967)

As the years go by, it gets easier on the love
market-easier to embrace a whole troop there.
But it's amazing how your feelings cool off when
you're stingy with them. (After all, everything
gets used up eventually.)
(Refrain)
3.
And although you learn the tricks of the trade
on the love market, it's never easy to convert lust
into small change. Still it can be done, but meanwhile
you get a little older. (After all, you can't stay
seventeen forever.)
(Refrain)
Translation by Kim H. Kowalke