CMF Lunchtime Concert Series – Joanna Harries & Aleksandra Myslek
Date
Time
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Venue
Join us for the first 2025 concert in the series of our Livery Halls Tour with CMF Artists Joanna Harries (Mezzo-Soprano) and Aleksandra Myslek (piano) at the Merchant Taylors’ Hall on 3rd February, 1pm.
This concert will be held in a smaller room at the Merchant Taylors’, therefore we have LIMITED SEATING. Please be sure to book early to not disappoint as it’s very unlikely there’ll be tickets on the door.
Programme – Flirts, Fools and Peacocks: Men to Avoid in Music and Life
Franz Schubert – Heidenröslein
W. A. Mozart – Der Zauberer, Als Luise die Briefe ihres ungetreuen Liebhabers verbrannte
Johannes Brahms – Am Sonntag Morgen
Robert Schumann – Er, der Herrlichste von allen (Frauenliebe und leben)
Clara Schumann – Lorelei
Claude Debussy – La flûte de Pan (Trois Chansons de Bilitis)
Maurice Ravel – Quel galant m’est comparable (5 Mélodies populaires grecques), Le Paon (Histoires naturelles)
Georges Bizet – La Coccinelle
Judith Weir – The song of the girl ravished away by the fairies in South Uist (Songs from the Exotic)
Rebecca Clarke – The Seal Man
Percy Grainger – The Sprig of Thyme
Benjamin Britten – Johnny (Cabaret Songs)
Cheryl Frances-Hoad – Rubbish at Adultery (One Life Stand)
William Bolcom – Toothbrush Time
Tickets & Concessions
£5 General concession – If you are currently struggling with the increased cost of living, please use this option – at your own discretion.
Please note that for Students and Benefits Recipients, proof of eligibility may be required at the venue.
Tickets are only available in advance via City Music Foundation’s website.
Texts and Translations
| Heidenröslein | Wild rose |
| Sah ein Knab’ ein Röslein stehen, Röslein auf der Heiden, War so jung und morgenschön, Lief er schnell, es nah zu sehn, Sah’s mit vielen Freuden. Röslein, Röslein, Röslein rot, Röslein auf der Heiden.Knabe sprach: Ich breche dich, Röslein auf der Heiden! Röslein sprach: Ich steche dich, Dass du ewig denkst an mich, Und ich will’s nicht leiden. Röslein, Röslein, Röslein rot, Röslein auf der Heiden.Und der wilde Knabe brach ’S Röslein auf der Heiden; Röslein wehrte sich und stach, Half ihm doch kein Weh und Ach, Musst es eben leiden. Röslein, Röslein, Röslein rot, Röslein auf der Heiden. |
A boy saw a wild rose growing in the heather; it was so young, and as lovely as the morning. He ran swiftly to look more closely, looked on it with great joy. Wild rose, wild rose, wild rose red, wild rose in the heather.Said the boy: I shall pluck you, wild rose in the heather! Said the rose: I shall prick you so that you will always remember me. And I will not suffer it. Wild rose, wild rose, wild rose red, wild rose in the heather.And the impetuous boy plucked the wild rose from the heather; the rose defended herself and pricked him, but her cries of pain were to no avail; she simply had to suffer. Wild rose, wild rose, wild rose red, wild rose in the heather. |
| Der Zauberer | The Magician |
| Ihr Mädchen, flieht Damöten ja! Als ich zum erstenmal ihn sah, Da fühlt’ ich, so was fühlt’ ich nie, Mir ward, mir ward, ich weiß nicht wie, Ich seufze, zitterte, und schien mich doch zu freu’n; Glaubt mir, er muß ein Zaub’rer sein!Sah ich ihn an, so ward mir heiß, Bald ward ich rot, bald ward ich weiß, Zuletzt nahm er mich bei der Hand; Wer sagt mir, was ich da empfand? Ich sah, ich hörte nichts, sprach nichts als ja und nein; Glaubt mir, er muß ein Zaub’rer sein!Er führte mich in dies Gesträuch, Ich wollt’ ihm flieh’n und folgt’ ihm gleich; Er setzte sich, ich setzte mich; Er sprach, nur Sylben stammelt’ ich; Die Augen starrten ihm, die meinen wurden klein; Glaubt mir, er muß ein Zaub’rer sein! Entbrannt drückt’ er mich an sein Herz, |
Girls, keep well clear of Damötas! The first time I saw him, I felt – as I’d never felt before; It was like – was like – I know not what: I sighed, trembled and yet seemed overjoyed: Believe me, he must be a magician!When I looked at him I went hot all over, Now blushing red, now turning pale, Finally he took me by the hand: Words cannot say how I felt then! I saw nothing, heard nothing, Could only stammer Yes and No: Believe me, he must be a magician!He led me into these bushes, I wanted to flee, but followed at once: He sat down, I sat down: He spoke – but I could only stammer; His eyes bulged, my own shrank: Believe me, he must be a magician! He pressed me passionately to his heart. |
| Als Luise die Briefe ihres ungetreuen Liebhabers verbrannte | When Louisa burnt her unfaithful lover’s letters |
| Erzeugt von heißer Phantasie, In einer schwärmerischen Stunde Zur Welt gebrachte! – geht zu Grunde! Ihr Kinder der Melancholie!Ihr danket Flammen euer Sein: Ich geb’ euch nun den Flammen wieder, Und all’ die schwärmerischen Lieder; Denn ach! er sang nicht mir allein.Ihr brennet nun, und bald, ihr Lieben, Ist keine Spur von euch mehr hier: Doch ach! der Mann, der euch geschrieben, Brennt lange noch vielleicht in mir. |
Begotten by ardent fantasy, Born in a rapturous hour An emotional moment! Perish, Ye children of melancholy!You owe your existence to flames, To flames I now return you And all those passionate songs; For ah! he did not sing for me alone.Now you are burning, and soon, my dears, Not a trace of you will remain: But ah! the man who wrote you May smoulder long yet in my heart.
|
| Am Sonntag Morgen | On Sunday Morning |
| Am Sonntag Morgen, zierlich angetan, Wohl weiß ich, wo du da bist hingegangen, Und manche Leute waren, die dich sah’n, Und kamen dann zu mir, dich zu verklagen. Als sie mir’s sagten, hab’ ich laut gelacht, Und in der Kammer dann geweint zur Nacht. Als sie mir’s sagten, fing ich an zu singen, Um einsam dann die Hände wund zu ringen. |
On Sunday morning, in your dainty clothes, I know very well where you were going, And there were many people who saw you, And then came to me to denounce you. When they told me, I laughed out loud, Only to cry in my bedroom at night. When they told me, I began to sing, Only to wring my hands sore when alone. |
| Er, der Herrlichste von allen
(Frauenliebe und leben) |
He, the most wonderful of all |
| Er, der Herrlichste von allen, Wie so milde, wie so gut! Holde Lippen, klares Auge, Heller Sinn und fester Mut.So wie dort in blauer Tiefe, Hell und herrlich, jener Stern, Also er an meinem Himmel, Hell und herrlich, hehr und fern.Wandle, wandle deine Bahnen; Nur betrachten deinen Schein, Nur in Demut ihn betrachten, Selig nur und traurig sein! Höre nicht mein stilles Beten, Nur die Würdigste von allen Will mich freuen dann und weinen, |
He, the most wonderful of all, How gentle and loving he is! Sweet lips, bright eyes, A clear mind and firm resolve.Just as there in the deep-blue distance That star gleams bright and brilliant, So does he shine in my sky, Bright and brilliant, distant and sublime.Wander, wander on your way, Just to gaze on your radiance, Just to gaze on in humility, To be but blissful and sad! Do not heed my silent prayer, Only the worthiest woman of all Then shall I rejoice and weep, |
| Lorelei | Loreley |
| Ich weiß nicht, was soll es bedeuten, Daß ich so traurig bin; Ein Märchen aus alten Zeiten, Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.Die Luft ist kühl und es dunkelt, Und ruhig fließt der Rhein; Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt Im Abendsonnenschein.Die schönste Jungfrau sitzet Dort oben wunderbar, Ihr goldnes Geschmeide blitzet, Sie kämmt ihr goldenes Haar. Sie kämmt es mit goldenem Kamme Den Schiffer im kleinen Schiffe Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen |
I do not know what it means That I should feel so sad; There is a tale from olden times I cannot get out of my mind.The air is cool, and twilight falls, And the Rhine flows quietly by; The summit of the mountains glitters In the evening sun.The fairest maiden is sitting In wondrous beauty up there, Her golden jewels are sparkling, She combs her golden hair. She combs it with a golden comb It seizes the boatman in his skiff I think at last the waves swallow |
| La flûte de Pan
(Trois Chansons de Bilitis) |
Pan’s Flute |
| Pour le jour des Hyacinthies, il m’a donné une syrinx faite de roseaux bien taillés, unis avec la blanche cire qui est douce à mes lèvres comme le miel.Il m’apprend à jouer, assise sur ses genoux; mais je suis un peu tremblante. Il en joue après moi, si doucement que je l’entends à peine.Nous n’avons rien à nous dire, tant nous sommes près l’un de l’autre; mais nos chansons veulent se répondre, et tour à tour nos bouches s’unissent sur la flûte. Il est tard; voici le chant des grenouilles vertes qui |
For Hyacinthus day he gave me a syrinx made of carefully cut reeds, bonded with white wax which tastes sweet to my lips like honey.He teaches me to play, as I sit on his lap; but I am a little fearful. He plays it after me, so gently that I scarcely hear him.We have nothing to say, so close are we one to another, but our songs try to answer each other, and our mouths join in turn on the flute. It is late; here is the song of the green frogs that |
| Quel galant m’est comparable
(Cinq mélodies populaires grecques) |
What gallant can compare with me? |
| Quel galant m’est comparable, D’entre ceux qu’on voit passer? Dis, dame Vassiliki? Vois, pendus à ma ceinture, Pistolets et sabre aigu … Et c’est toi que j’aime! |
What gallant can compare with me? Among those seen passing by? Tell me, Mistress Vassiliki? See, hanging at my belt, Pistols and sharp swaord… And it’s you I love! |
| Le Paon
(Histoires naturelles) |
The Peacock |
| Il va sûrement se marier aujourd’hui. Ce devait être pour hier. En habit de gala, il était prêt. Il n’attendait que sa fiancée. Elle n’est pas venue. Elle ne peut tarder. Glorieux, il se promène avec une allure de prince indien et porte sur lui les riches présents d’usage. L’amour avive l’éclat de ses couleurs et son aigrette tremble comme une lyre. La fiancée n’arrive pas. Il monte au haut du toit et regarde du côté du soleil. Il jette son cri diabolique: Léon! Léon! C’est ainsi qu’il appelle sa fiancée. Il ne voit rien venir et personne ne répond. Les volailles habituées ne lèvent même point la tête. Elles sont lasses de l’admirer. Il redescend dans la cour, si sûr d’être beau qu’il est incapable de rancune. Son mariage sera pour demain. Et, ne sachant que faire du reste de la journée, il se dirige vers le perron. Il gravit les marches, comme des marches de temple, d’un pas officiel. Il relève sa robe à queue toute lourde des yeux qui n’ont pu se détacher d’elle. Il répète encore une fois la cérémonie. |
He will surely get married today. It was to have been yesterday. In full regalia he was ready. It was only his bride he was waiting for. She has not come. She cannot be long. Proudly he processes the with air of an Indian prince, bearing about his person the customary lavish gifts. Love burnishes the brilliance of his colours, and his crest quivers like a lyre. His bride does not appear. He ascends to the top of the roof and looks towards the sun. He utters his devilish cry: Léon! Léon! It is thus that he summons his bride. He can see nothing drawing near, and no one replies. The fowls are used to all this and do not even raise their heads. They are tired of admiring him.He descends once more to the yard, so sure of his beauty that he is incapable of resentment. His marriage will take place tomorrow. And, not knowing what to do for the rest of the day, he heads for the flight of steps. He ascends them, as though they were the steps of a temple, with a formal tread. He lifts his train, heavy with eyes that have been unable to detach themselves. Once more he repeats the ceremony. |
| La Coccinelle | The Ladybird |
| Elle me dit: «Quelque chose Me tourmente.» Et j’aperçus Son cou de neige, et, dessus, Un petit insecte rose. J’aurais dû,—mais, sage ou fou, À seize ans, on est farouche,— Voir le baiser sur sa bouche Plus que l’insecte à son cou.On eût dit un coquillage; Dos rose et taché de noir. Les fauvettes pour nous voir Se penchaient dans le feuillage.Sa bouche fraîche était là; Je me courbai sur la belle, Et je pris la coccinelle; Mais le baiser s’envola. «Fils, apprends comme on me nomme», |
She said to me: ‘Something’s Itching me.’ And I saw Her snow-white neck, and on it A small rose-coloured insect. I should—but right or wrong, At sixteen one is shy— Have seen the kiss on her lips More than the insect on her neck.Like a shell it shone; Red back speckled with black. The warblers, to catch a glimpse of us, Craned their necks in the branches.Her fresh mouth was there: I leaned over the lovely girl, And dislodged the ladybird, But… the kiss flew away! ‘Son, learn my name’, |
The song of the girl ravished away by the fairies in South Uist
(Songs from the Exotic)
My love, my love, let me home to my mother;
my love, my love, let me home, let me home;
my love, my love, let me home as you found me;
I came to call the cattle home.
I heard last night that my love was surrounded;
I climbed the hill by the light of the moon;
my love, my love, let me home as you found me:
I came to call the cattle home.
Though you gave me horses on halters,
though you gave me cattle and sheep,
though you gave me servants and footmen,
I came to call the cattle home.
My love, my love, let me home to my mother;
my love, my love, let me home, let me home;
my love, my love, let me home as you found me:
I came to call the cattle home.
The Seal Man
And he came by her cabin to the west of the road, calling.
There was a strong love came up in her at that,
and she put down her sewing on the table, and “Mother,” she says,
“There’s no lock, and no key, and no bolt, and no door.
There’s no iron, nor no stone, nor anything at all
will keep me this night from the man I love.”
And she went out into the moonlight to him,
there by the bush where the flow’rs is pretty, beyond the river.
And he says to her: “You are all of the beauty of the world,
will you come where I go, over the waves of the sea?”
And she says to him: “My treasure and my strength,” she says,
“I would follow you on the frozen hills, my feet bleeding.”
Then they went down into the sea together,
and the moon made a track on the sea, and they walked down it;
it was like a flame before them. There was no fear at all on her;
only a great love like the love of the Old Ones,
that was stronger than the touch of the fool.
She had a little white throat, and little cheeks like flowers,
and she went down into the sea with her man,
who wasn’t a man at all.
She was drowned, of course.
It’s like he never thought that she wouldn’t bear the sea like himself.
She was drowned, drowned.
The Sprig of Thyme
Wunst I had a sprig of thyme,
It prospered by night and by day
Till a false young man came acourtin’ te me,
And he stole all this thyme away.
The gardener was standin’ by;
I bade him choose for me:
He chose me the lily and the violet and the pink,
But I really did refuse them all three.
Thyme it is the prettiest thing,
And time it e will grow on,
And time it’ll bring all things to an end
And so does my time grow on.
Johnny (Cabaret Songs)
O the valley in the summer where I and my John
Beside the deep river would walk on and on
While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above
Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love,
And I leaned on his shoulder; ‘O Johnny, let’s play’:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall
When we went to the Charity Matinee Ball,
The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud
And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud;
‘Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let’s dance till it’s day’:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera
When music poured out of each wonderful star?
Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down
Over each silver and golden silk gown;
‘O John I’m in heaven,’ I whispered to say:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O but he was fair as a garden in flower,
As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower,
When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade
O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart;
‘O marry me, Johnny, I’ll love and obey’:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover,
You’d the sun on one arm and the moon on the other,
The sea it was blue and the grass it was green,
Every star rattled a round tambourine;
Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay:
But you frowned like thunder and you went away.
Rubbish at Adultery
(One Life Stand)
Must I give up another night
To hear you whinge and whin
About how terribly grim you feel
And what a dreadful swine
You are? You say you’ll never leave
Your wife and children. Fine;
When have I ever asked you to?
I’d settle for a kiss.
Couldn’t you, for an hour or so,
Just leave them out of this?
A rare ten minutes off from guilty
Diatribes – what bliss.
Yes, I’m aware you’re sensitive:
A tortured, wounded soul.
I’m after passion, thrills and fun.
You say fun takes its toll,
So what are we doing here? I fear
We’ve lost our common goal.
You’re rubbish at adultery.
I think you ought to quit.
Trouble is at fidelity
You’re also slightly shit.
Choose one and do it properly,
You stupid, stupid git
Toothbrush Time
It’s toothbrush time
Ten a.m. again and toothbrush time
Last night at half past nine it seemed okay
But in the light of day not so fine at toothbrush time
Now he’s crashing round my bathroom
Now he’s reading my degree
Perusing all my pills
Reviewing all my ills
And he comes out smelling like me
Now he advances on my kitchen
Now he raids every shelf
Till from the pots and pans and puddles and debris
Emerges three eggs all for himself
Oh, how I’d be ahead if I’d stood out of bed
I wouldn’t sit here grieving
Waiting for the wonderful moment of his leaving
At toothbrush time, toothbrush time
Ten a.m. again and toothbrush time
I know it’s sad to be alone
It’s so bad to be alone
Still I should’ve known
That I’d be glad to be alone
I should’ve known, I should’ve known
Never should have picked up the phone and called him
“Hey, uh, listen, um Oh, you gotta go too?
So glad you understand
And …”
By the way, did you say
Nine tonight again?
See you then
Toothbrush time
English translations © Richard Stokes
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