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Graduation recital Gaetanne, Marisa Michelle 1985

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GRADUATION RECITAL By MARISA MICHELLE GAETANNE B.A., The U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1982 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF MUSIC i n THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Department of Music) We accept t h i s t h e s i s as conforming to the required standard Cat I. THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA May 1985 (c) Marisa M i c h e l l e Gaetanne, 1985 In presenting t h i s thesis i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of B r i t i s h Columbia, I agree that the Library s h a l l make i t f r e e l y available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of t h i s thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of my department or by h i s or her representatives. I t i s understood that copying or publication of t h i s thesis for f i n a n c i a l gain s h a l l not be allowed without my written permission. Department of The University of B r i t i s h Columbia 1956 Main Mall Van couve r, Canada V6T 1Y3 DE-6 (.3/81) 1 THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA DEPARTMENT OF MUSIC Recital Hall Saturday, April 27, 1985 8:00 p.m. *GRADUATE RECITAL Marisa Gaetanne, soprano assisted by Susan James, piano Fairest Isle 0 Had I Jubal's Lyre Almen se non poss'io La Pastorella delle Alpi Henry Purcell (c. 1659-1695) George F. Handel (1685-1759) Vincenzo Bellini (1801-1835) Gioacchino Rossini (1792-1868) from the Moericke Lieder Elfenlied Agnes Er ist's Ach Lieb, ich muss nun scheiden, Richard Strauss Op. 21, No. 3 (Felix Dahn) (1864-1949) Amor.' Op. 68, No. 5 (Clemens Brentano) Hugo Wolf (1860-1903) Concert Aria, K. 419 No, No, No, che non sei capace - INTEPMISSICN -from Ariettes 0ublie*es (Verlaine) L'Extase II pleure dans mon coeur Green Chevaux de bois Wolfgang A. Mozart (1756-1791) Claude Debussy (1862-1918) The Willow Song Douglas Moore from The Ballade of Baby Doe Two Folksong Arrangements Luigi Zaninelli The Water is wide Go 'way from my window At the Well Richard Hageman *In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Master of Music Degree with a major in Voice Performance. Please join us for the reception in the Faculty Lounge following the recital. 2 Bellini - Almen se non poss'io At least i f I can't follow my beloved9 I beg you, Affections of my heart, to follow him for me. Rossini - La Pastorella delle Alpi A shepherdess comes down from the mountains every morning offering fresh flowers and fruits. If you loose your way in the mountains at night she can help you find i t again. But her affections go to one special person only. Wolf - Eifenlied At night in the village the watchman cried, "Eleven:" A tiny l i t t l e elf In the forest Was fast asleep at eleven o'clockI And he thought that the nightingale in the valley was calling him by his name, Or that Silpelit had summoned him. The elf rubs his eyes open, Sets out from his snail-shell house And is just like a drunken man, As his nap was not quite finished. He stumbles then, tippety-tap, Through the hazel-wood into the valley below, Creeps very close to the wall, Where sit the glow-worms, light upon light. "What are a l l those bright l i t t l e windows? There must be a wedding in there; The l i t t l e ones are sitting at a meal And amusing themselves In the hall. I will just peep a bit InsideJ" Ouch! He has banged his head on a hard stone! Elf, now then, have you had enough? Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Wolf - Agnes Time of roses! How rapidly You have gone by! Had my love only remained true, I would not have known such grief. Joyful at harvest time, The girls are singing as they reap. But I, alas, in my blue mood, I will never attain happiness. And so I drift through meadows and fields, Lost in my dreams, To the top of that h i l l where a thousand times He swore to be faithful to me. There, on the edge, In solitude, I cry by the lime tree... The rose-hued ribbon on my hat. His gift to me, flutters in the wind. Wolf - Er ist's Spring lets its blue ribbon Flutter once again in the breeze; Sweet, well-remembered scents Pervade the land with promise. Violets are already budding, They will soon appear. Hear in the distance the soft sound of a harp! Spring, indeed i t is you! I have sensed you! Strauss - Ach Lieb, ich muss nun schieden (Felix Dahn) Ah, love, I must now leave, To wander over h i l l and dale; The alder trees and willows Are weeping, every one. They have so often seen us strolling Together on the banks of the stream; They cannot conceive The one without the other. The alder trees and willows Are weeping sorrowfully, Imagine then, how we two Feel in our hearts. Strauss - Amor! (Clemens Brentano) By the fire sat the child, Cupid, Cupid. He was blind. With his l i t t l e wings he fans Up the flames, and he smiles. Fan, smile, you clever child! Alas, the child's wing has caught fire! Cupid, Cupid. Runs off quickly -" 0 how much the burn does pain me!" Fluttering, he loudly cries. Runs off to the shepherdess With cries for help, the clever child. Shepherdess, she helps the child, Cupid, Cupid. Bad and blind. -Shepherdess, your heart's on fire; Did'st not recognize the imp? See, the flame is growing fast -0 , beware the clever child! Fan, smile, you clever child. Mozart - No, No, No, che non sei capace No! You are not capable of kindness nor of honor - yet you boast vainly of a heart f u l l of love for me. Go away, I despise you, ungrateful one. Even more I hate myself for having loved you for even a moment, for having once sighed for you, Debussy - L'Extase (Paul Verlaine) This is languorous ectasy, This is sensual weariness, This is a l l the rustling of forests In the embrace of the breezes. This is, through the gray boughs. The chorus of l i t t l e voices. Oh, the faint cool murmurs It twitters and whispers. It resembles the gentle cry Which the ruffled grass exhales. You might call i t , - under the water which eddies The muted rolling of pebbles' This soul which is lamenting In this subdued plaint, It is ours, is i t not? Say that i t is mine and yours Which breathes this humble hymn9 So softly, on this mild evening, Debussy - II pleure dans mon coeur Tears f a l l In my heart Like the rain upon the city. What is the languor That penetrates my heart? Oh gentle sound of the rain. On the ground and on the roofs! For a heart that is weary, Oh, the sound of the rain! Tears f a l l without reason In this anguished heart. What! No betrayal? This mourning has no reason. This is truly the keenest pain, To know not why, Without either love or hate, My heart bears so much pain. 5 Debussy - Green Here are fruits, flowers, leaves and branches, And here, also, is my heart which beats only for you. Do not tear i t apart with your two white hands, And may this humble offering seem sweet to your so lovely eyes. I come, s t i l l covered with deWj, Which the morning wind has turned to frost on my brow. Permit that my fatigue, reposing at your feet, May dream of the cherished moments that will refresh i t . On your young bosom let me cradle my head, S t i l l filled with music from your last kisses; Let i t be soothed after the good storm, And let me sleep a l i t t l e , while you rest. Debussy - Wooden Horses Turn round, keep turning, good wooden horses, Turn a hundred times, turn a thousand times. Turn often and do not stop, Turn round, turn to the tune of the oboes. The child quite red and the mother white, The boy in black and the g i r l In rose, Each one doing as he pleases, Each one spending his Sunday penny. Turn round, turn, horses of their choice, While at a l l your turning The sly rogue casts a surrepitious glance. Keep turning to the tune of the victorious trumpet I It is astounding how i t intoxicates you, To move thus in this foolish circus, With empty stomachs and dizzy heads, Feeling altogether badly, yet happy in the crowd; Turn, hobby horses, without needing Ever the aid of spurs To make you gallop on. Turn round, turn, without any hope of hay, And hurry, horses of their fancy, Here, already the supper bell is sounded By Night, which falls and disperses the crowd Of gay drinkers, whose thirst has made them famished. Turn, turn round'. The velvet sky Arrays itself slowly with golden stars. The church tolls a mournful knell. Turn to the gay tune of the drums, keep turning. 


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