TRACK LIST

Program Notes by Laura Strickling

1

Not Quite Stars

Composer: Juhi Bansal

Poet: Julie Baber

Through the shimmering tremolos of Not Quite Stars poet Julie Baber’s palpably evocative and urgent words jump off the page into the cosmos of Juhi Bansal’s sparkling, ephemeral musical response.

The time will come, as it has done and passed

Where songs our eyes sing to one another

Must turn kissing mouths to other things.

For it is no victory to last
It is no victory to stand, stubborn on the path,

Refusing that parting of mouths, releasing of hands,

It is no victory to refuse our promised lands.

Even as the gloaming begins to spark,
Our messenger of the dark –
Odd little flames we are to dot that horizon line,

Even as it begins to drip, tar-black,
Air hums that distant lullaby back.

We flit our tiny battles, our storming tiny spars,

Free to choose our night path
We who are not yet ashes, not quite stars,

We lightning bug singers, we fireflies sing,

Ignite, we leap – and into the night we fly.

2

Wind Carry Me

Composer: James Primosch

Poet: Susan Stewart

Late, great American composer James Primosch’s collaborations with poet Susan Stewart have reached their apex in his landmark final song. Operatic in scope, it features jazz harmonies and lush text painting.

The sea has reached the fields,

the fire is cold, the wall is gone.

I said to the elm

shelter me, shelter me

I cannot tell the distant past

or make a tool I’ve never held.

I said to the grass

comfort me, comfort me

I cannot step across the waves

or stand a ladder in the air

I said to the wind,

carry me, carry me

Wind, I am within you,

carry me

I cannot dig with my hands
or find my way without a flame

I said to the moon

turn to me, turn to me

I said to the star

send for me, send for me

I said to the night

harbor me

Then I said to my love

I’ll come to you, wait for me

like the moon, like the star,

turn to me, send for me

I am with you and within you,

wait for me

I am with you and within you,

oh wind, carry me

3

Prometheus's Monster

Composer: Myron Silberstein

Poet: Karen Poppy

Prometheus’ Monster demonstrates an efficient perfection in the economy and beauty of words and musical ideas employed by poet Karen Poppy and composer Myron Silberstein as they explore the unintended consequences of Prometheus’ gift of fire – knowledge and curiosity – to mankind.

There’s this cat

Called Prometheus

Who wants to

Skunk up my tree.

Gave me fire,

Creativity,

Then backed away…

Afraid of it,

of me.

Prometheus,

return to me.

I am your useful monster.

Set aflame

So prettily.

4

Thanks a Latte

Composer: Lori Laitman

Poet: Caitlin Vincent

In Thanks a Latte - a fully caffeinated comedic ballad - one of the most celebrated modern art song composers, Lori Laitman, teams up with lyricist Caitlin Vincent to celebrate all things coffee, with a splash of social anxiety.

Today’s the day.

Today I’m taking a stand.

Making an impression.

Changing my coffee order!

Every day, it’s the same.

My standard. Regular. Habit.

Every day at the hipster café.

Every day with the cute barista.

For three whole seconds, I have his complete attention.

(Not to mention, his dreamy smile.)

But every day, I waste it on routine.

You aren’t what you eat, but what you order.

And I’m predictable.

Forgettable.

But not today.

Today, I’ll be spontaneous.

Complex.

Today, he’ll wonder what I do, who I am, where I’m going.

Today, I’ll order…a macchiato.

Edgy and stylish and chic.

Or maybe a cappuccino.

Funny and frothy and fun.

A flat white to show I travel.

A long black to show I’m tall.

I just need the perfect blend

to best espresso myself.

Would a filter be too hipster?

A triple shot too high strung?

What’s the message in non-fat or skinny?

No foam? Extra whip? Light ice?

My keep cup is full of potential.

For a drink that’s quintessentially me.

This is the moment.

I’m next in line.

Ready with my order.

And there he is in a beanie.

Brewing and foaming and grinding.

Never minding my racing heart.

He turns to me with a smile.

Turns to me and says…

“The usual?”

5

At Spring's End

Composer: Tom Cipullo

Poet: Li Po (translated by Ezra Pound)

My artistic association with renowned American composer of vocal music, Tom Cipullo, is deep. I’ve performed most of his songs for soprano, created a role in one of his operas, and this is my fourth project recording his music. In many ways I found my voice through his music, and his early-career support is one of the reasons I am a working singer today. Tom’s contribution to the 40@40 Project – on a text fragment by Tang Dynasty poet Li Po, translated by Ezra Pound – is pure neo-romantic art song bliss; a true showcase of the equal partnership between voice and piano.

And then the crowd broke up, you went north to
San palace,
And if you ask how I regret that parting:
It is like the flowers falling at Spring's end
Confused, whirled in a tangle.
What is the use of talking, and there is no end of

talking,
There is no end of things in the heart.

6

Saint

Composer: Scott Wheeler

Poet: Jeffrey Harrison

The contemplative melancholy of Saint by composer Scott Wheeler on a sensitive text by poet Jeffrey Harrison is tinted with harmonies of hope, comfort, and healing.

I find you where I found you years ago,

stone saint from 15th century France

whom I can count on always to be here

in this church-like corner of the museum.

Forgive me for not visiting in so long.
Now I want to tell you everything
that has happened to me since I last saw you,

but I can see by your deeply shadowed eyes

that you already know. I place myself directly

in your warm and comprehending gaze.
I want to lose myself in the thick folds
of your stone robe, in the ripples of your beard.

The smooth dome of your bald head
is the firmament of your compassion.
Put down your heavy book and lay your hand

gently on top of my head. Pray for me.

7

E-mail to Odessa (TX)

Composer: Dennis Tobenski

Poet: Elizabeth Seyel Morgan

E-mail to Odessa is a charming gem of a song collaboration between composer, tenor, and music publisher, Dennis Tobenksi, and poet Elizabeth Seydel Morgan. Its brightness and clarity harken to the love ballads of Schubert with a twist of modern sensibility.

Love watches the weather of where you are,

Checks every channel and paper to know

When your skies are cloudy or full of snow,

When your moonless night holds no bright star.

If love’s hot sun can reach so far

Love wants to melt your wintry blow,

Wrap its warm breezes around you, so

Love watches the weather of where you are.

8

Peony

Composer: Ed Windels

Poet: C. L. O'Dell

The glistening excitement of the opening measures of Ed Windels’ setting of C.L. O’Dell’s homage to choosing change settles into contemplative sentimentality at the realization that the forward movement of growth is often accompanied by a longing for the things of the past.

I am ready for the next
thing: rows and rows of wings
lifting off the earth
and telling me to stay.

The sky wriggles with life
and still, the air is gray
like any rock
above a grave.

So let me have this now
before the blossoms
take my absence
from the yard

and I am again only one-sided,
a living thing responsible
to live, finding myself in tall grass,
whispering back.

9

This Ode is Mine

Composer: Bess McCrary

Poet: Bess McCrary

In This Ode is Mine composer and lyricist Bess McCrary explores the complicated inner world of woman who has taken on the mantle of motherhood and is left longing for glimpses of who she was before; courageously reclaiming space in a society where maternal selflessness is the accepted ideal.

Dear Daughter,

I’d like you to meet,

Fall down at her feet,

A concept unknown to you,

A queen long dethroned when you came to be.

I know you’ve grown accustomed to

The songs I sing each day for you, but…

This ode is mine,

Won’t share a bite.

In fact, I’ll fight your tiny hands (with appropriate might).

You’ll never know pure magic me

Won’t see her through the Goldfish crumbs or milk or pee.

I buried her in diapers, I covered her in slime,

I pumped and dumped and patted rumps,

Went hoarse from nursery rhymes

And I did it all for you, Sweet Baby (B), but:

What’s left for me?

This ode is hers

The me I was

The sparks my fingers carried,

Oh the brains I buzzed.

I lived so hard

I died each day

Each small death lovingly entombed my former ways.

I buried her in diapers, I covered her in slime,

I pumped and dumped and patted rumps,

Went hoarse from nursery rhymes

And I did it all for you, Sweet Baby (B), but:

What‘s left for me?

This ode is mine

(Shhhh! I just got her down!)

Mine, all mine

(Can’t you play quieter!?)

Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, MINE!

(Mommy needs a time out.)

10

Woman Walking

Composer: Nell Shaw Cohen

Poet: Megan Cohen

Nell Shaw Cohen’s musical exploration of the experience of a woman’s walk through the city contrasts pop-funk coolness with ambling bliss, and this setting of her sister Megan Cohen’s words never loses sight of the journey’s true purpose – to soak it all in despite the noise.

11

A pair of men, walking.

Another man, walking.

Oh, look: a man. Walking.

A woman!

... jogging.
Why are the women always jogging gotta get

someplace, lose five pounds, yoga mat, never stop,

work the job then jog home clean the house paint

the nails do it all on hard cement.
Oh, look: a man. Standing.
Watching the woman jogging.
Watching the woman jogging.
I do not go jogging.
I take my time.
I take my time.
Dallying on every corner; cars stop for me.
In the window my reflection; I stop for me.
Sensual pleasure of a worn awning, painted sign,
a crowded place then sudden quiet on another block.

Miles and elevation
Cannot map the living city.
I live with, in, on, the city.
Smell it like a lover’s neck
Except the perfume of garbage.
Oh look, some men walking.
And there’s a man walking.
He watches me walking.
He says “Where you goin’?”
But I just keep walking.
Look down and just keep going.
I’m going everywhere before I go home,
Before I go home.
Taste the pavement like an oyster under every step.

A bit of sky between two buildings; it has time and

so do I.

anew

Composer: Joseph Jones

Poet: Christina Ramirez

Joseph Jones’ incisive setting of Christina Ramirez’s poem anew aptly illustrates humanity’s one-step-at-a-time forward movement through life’s hills and valleys, ultimately arriving to a point of renewal with hymn-like harmonies.

there is still

all things go
whether silently or with the roar
of our worst and shining fear -
all things go
arms linked with the best
of our love and lilting hope -
all things go
swiftly in the witching hour
amidst the applause of our whim -
all things go
in order that we, the frail and
forgotten, might be remade.

12

The Mother Who Died Too

Composer: Eugenia Cheng

Poet: Edith M. Thomas

Eugenia Cheng is Scientist in Residence at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, a best-selling author of books on popular mathematics, a columnist for the Wall Street Journal, an accomplished pianist – one of those rare humans who excels at everything they endeavor to do. Her heart-rending, angular setting of Edith M. Thomas’ century-old poem perfectly captures the tension and rawness of an ageless grief.

SHE was so little – little in her grave,

The wide earth all around so hard and cold –

She was so little! therefore did I crave

My arms might still her tender form enfold.

She was so little, and her cry so weak

When she among the heavenly children came –

She was so little – I alone might speak

For her who knew no word nor her own name.

13

Sun of the Sleepless

Composer: Felix Jarrar

Poet: Lord Byron

Eugenia Cheng is Scientist in Residence at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, a best-selling author of books on popular mathematics, a columnist for the Wall Street Journal, an accomplished pianist – one of those rare humans who excels at everything they endeavor to do. Her heart-rending, angular setting of Edith M. Thomas’ century-old poem perfectly captures the tension and rawness of an ageless grief.

SHE was so little – little in her grave,

The wide earth all around so hard and cold –

She was so little! therefore did I crave

My arms might still her tender form enfold.

She was so little, and her cry so weak

When she among the heavenly children came –

She was so little – I alone might speak

For her who knew no word nor her own name.

14

Let Us Remember Spring

Composer: Andrea Clearfield

Poet: Charlotte Mew

Eugenia Cheng is Scientist in Residence at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, a best-selling author of books on popular mathematics, a columnist for the Wall Street Journal, an accomplished pianist – one of those rare humans who excels at everything they endeavor to do. Her heart-rending, angular setting of Edith M. Thomas’ century-old poem perfectly captures the tension and rawness of an ageless grief.

Let us remember Spring will come again
To the scorched, blackened woods,

where the wounded trees
Wait, with their old wise patience for the heavenly rain,
Sure of the sky: sure of the sea to send its healing breeze,
Sure of the sun. And even as to these
Surely the Spring, when God shall please
Will come again like a divine surprise
To those who sit to-day with their great Dead, hands in

Their hands, eyes in their eyes,
At one with Love, at one with Grief: blind to the

Scattered things and changing skies.

15

Las palmeras

Composer: Reinaldo Moya

Poet: Pamela Rahn Sánchez

Reinaldo Moya’s setting of Pamela Rahn Sánchez’ poem Las Palmeras halts and dances in turn through the daily human struggle to stop and take notice of the simple beauties around us; and the emotions that come with truly seeing.

Hacía tiempo que no lloraba

Fueron las palmeras
El peso de su sombra
Me obligo a alzar la cabeza

para mirar su verde filoso contra el azul

del cielo Estaban allí

Pero no sabía
caminaba debajo de ellas
todos los días
inerte a su belleza
a la posibilidad de no volver a verlas pero estuvieron allí
siempre
sólo que no las veía

Nunca las vi.

It had been a while since I cried

It was the palm trees
the weight of their shadows
It forced me to raise my head

and look at the sharp green

against the blue sky

They were there
But I didn't know I walked under them
every day
oblivious to their beauty
to the possibility of never seeing them again but they were there
always
it was just that I didn't see them

I never saw them.

16

The Solitary Reaper

Composer: Evan Fein

Poet: Williams Wordsworth

In the grand tradition of descriptive narrative art songs, composer Evan Fein forges his own path in the wake of such luminaries as Brahms, Schubert, and Bizet. This beautiful, haunting setting of William Wordsworth’s classic poem puts the audience in fields with the observer, listening in profound wonder - struck anew by the power and allure of the human voice.

Behold her, single in the field,

Yon solitary Highland Lass!

Reaping and singing by herself;

Stop here, or gently pass!

Alone she cuts and binds the grain,

And sings a melancholy strain;

O listen! for the Vale profound

Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt

More welcome notes to weary bands

Of travellers in some shady haunt,

Among Arabian sands:

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard

In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,

Breaking the silence of the seas

Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?—

Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow

For old, unhappy, far-off things,

And battles long ago:

Or is it some more humble lay,

Familiar matter of to-day?

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,

That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang

As if her song could have no ending;

I saw her singing at her work,

And o'er the sickle bending;—

I listened, motionless and still;

And, as I mounted up the hill,

The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more.

17

My Song is Sung

Composer: Jodi Goble

Poet: Yone Noguchi

Jodi Goble is an accomplished collaborative pianist in addition to her compositional exploits. Her keen attention to detail in marrying piano to voice is at its zenith in her unfurling, sweeping ode, based on Yone Noguchi’s writings on the human soul’s endurance through waves of song.

My song is sung, but a moment…

The song of voice is merely the body, (the body dies,)

And the real part of the song, its soul, remains after it is

sung:

Yea, it remains in the vibration of thy waves of heart-sea

Echoing still my song…

And through my soul thou soarest out of thy dust and griefs.

18

benediction

Composer: Daron Hagen

Poet: Christina Ramirez

Striking to the heart of the 40@40 Project, Daron Hagen’s benediction begins with poet Christina Ramirez’ words proclaiming the creation of “a new song” – a triumphant anthem to self-discovery.

a new song
one that is honest
one that speaks without script
or measured breath
the unnerved and shaking but determined
stance of a woman who
is due warmth
due joy
due the gifts so often bestowed and so rarely
believed to be deserved
sing, now,
and do not be troubled
should your lungs require
a bit of practice and your
mouth a month to recall
confidence -
it will come
as will you
as will the beautiful rest
that envelops those who spend
their energies, not in the haggard
pursuit of performance, but
rather
in that blessed and sweet entanglement -
unhurried, unafraid,
unashamed.

19

Two Old Crows

Composer: Juliana Hall

Poet: Vachel Lindsay

Juliana Hall is no stranger to the art song world, and in Two Old Crows she has truly given a gift to singers and audiences alike. Vachel Lindsay’s humorous text comes to full comedic glory with the introduction of a kazoo solo and guest appearances by a singing pianist.

Two old crows sat on a fence rail.

Two old crows sat on a fence rail,

Thinking of effect and cause,

Of weeds and flowers,

And nature's laws.

One of them muttered, one of them stuttered,

One of them stuttered, one of them muttered.

Each of them thought far more than he uttered.

One crow asked the other crow a riddle.

One crow asked the other crow a riddle:

The muttering crow

Asked the stuttering crow,

“Why does a bee have a sword to his fiddle?

Why does a bee have a sword to his fiddle?”

“Bee-cause,” said the other crow,

“Bee-cause,

B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B-cause.”

Just then a bee flew close to their rail:—

“Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ZZZZZZZZ.”

And those two black crows

Turned pale,

And away those crows did sail.

Why?

B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B-cause.

“Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ZZZZZZZZ.”

20

Song of Solitude (Alone…)

Composer: H. Leslie Adams

Poet: Nikos Valence

The unfathomable sorrows and ineffable joys of solitude are explored in equal measure through Alone (Song of Solitude) – composer H. Leslie Adams’ epic ballad on a poem by Nikos Valance. Imbued with jazz harmonies, the dramatic arc and languid tension suggest that it exists not solely as a stand-alone song, but an aria in want of an opera.

A tender light lights the night;
The moon high above
The ev’rything of my feelings:

The rivers of passion

The song of emotions

The chorus of destinies

Below the surface

Making me breathe,

Famished, I search

Insatiable, I crave

Lovingly, I look up

To the moon
Its light falling on my head.
...The moon,
High above the ev’rything of my feelings,

Alone... (alone...)

PRAISE for 40@40

TRACK LIST

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