Krzysztof Biernacki, Baritone
Denise Wright, Piano
Dr. Krzysztof Biernacki, renowned baritone and head of vocal studies at UNF, is joined by pianist Denise Wright, one of the First Coast's most sought-after collaborative artists, for an afternoon of art songs sung in German, Polish, Russian, and English.
Edvard Grieg (1843-1907)
Sechs Lieder, Op. 48
1. Gruß
2. Dereinst, Gedanke mein
3. Lauf der Welt
4. Die verschwiegene Nachtigall
5. Zur Rosenzeit
6. Ein Traum
Karol Szymanowski (1882-1937)
Łabędz, Op. 7
We Mgłach, Op. 2, No. 3
Czasem gdy długo na pól sennie marzę, Op. 2, No. 4
Piotr Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)
Нет, толко тот, кто знал, Op. 6, No. 6
Средь шумного бала, Op. 38, No. 3
Растворил я окно, Op. 63, No. 2
Roger Quilter (1877-1953)
My life’s delight, Op. 12, No. 2
Damask roses, Op. 12, No. 3
Fair house of joy, Op. 12, No. 7
Baritone Krzysztof Biernacki has established a strong reputation as a powerful performer, versatile stage director, and talented teacher. Born and raised in Poland, his professional credits include opera, oratorio, concert, and recital performances in Canada, the United States, and Europe. Dr. Biernacki has sung principal roles with Vancouver Opera, Manitoba Opera, Calgary Opera, Orchestra London Canada, Theater of Usti nad Labem (Czech Republic), as well as opera ensembles of University of British Columbia and University of Western Ontario. Dr. Biernacki’s commitment to contemporary music is highlighted by world premiere performances heard on CBC Radio and CBC Saturday Afternoon at the Opera, including a highly acclaimed production of Filumena, co-produced by the Calgary Opera and Banff Centre for Performing Arts. Dr. Biernacki frequently performs song recitals with repertoire ranging from Haydn to Szymanowski, Shostakovich, and Britten. Dr. Biernacki made his Carnegie Hall debut with th UNF Wind Ensemble performing works of Tchaikovsky and Tosti, and was reengaged for a recital of opera arias and duets at Carnegie Zankel Hall. His summer engagements have included solo recitals in Italy and Poland, concerts with North Czech Philharmonic Orchestra, and stage directing engagements at the European Music Academy in the Czech Republic. Dr. Biernacki holds degrees from the University of Manitoba (B. Mus.), University of Western Ontario (M. Mus.), and University of British Columbia (D.M.A). He is the head of Applied Voice and Director of UNF Opera Ensemble at the University of North in Jacksonville.
Jacksonville native Denise Wright received her Bachelor of Music degree in Piano Performance from Samford University in Birmingham, Alabama, and her Master of Music in Piano Performance from Indiana University. As a young artist, Ms. Wright was active in a myriad of events sponsored by the Jacksonville Music Teachers Association. While at Samford, she served as a pianist for the Baptist Festival Singers European Tour. she was a Professor of Piano at Bethel College, and was accompanist at both Indiana University and at St. Mary’s College. Returning to Jacksonville in 1991, Ms. Wright assumed the position of pianist at First Baptist Church. Highly sought after as accompanist, she joined the staff of the University of North Florida where she is the accompanist for several voice studios, as well as for the UNF Opera Ensemble. She also serves as accompanist at Douglas Anderson Scool of the Arts, Jacksonville University, and for RC Arts Management. Ms. Wright balances her many artistic endeavors with raising her five children: Sarah, Victoria, Joshua, Anna, and Daniel.
PROGRAM NOTES, by Ed Lein, Music Librarian
Edvard Grieg (1843-1907) was a nationalistic Norwegian composer and virtuoso pianist best known for his Piano Concerto in A minor, and the incidental music to Henrik Ibsen's play, Peer Gynt. Among his most original works are the Lyriske stykker ("Lyric Pieces") for piano solo, for which he became touted as "The Chopin of the North." But Grieg’s 170 songs likewise demonstrate his originality, and Grieg wrote that he considered song writing central to his work as composer. His wife, Nina, was a talented singer, and Grieg credited her as the primary inspiration for his songs. The majority of them are in Norwegian, which perhaps explains why they are not better known here in the United State. Of Grieg's settings of German poetry, the 6 Lieder, Op.48 (1884-88, pub. 1889), are regarded as among the very finest. The were dedicated to the Swedish dramatic soprano Ellen Norgren, who became internationally famous under her married name, Ellen Gulbranson, and who also eventually became a Norwegian citizen.
Sechs Lieder, Op. 48 (English translation versions ©2011, by E. Lein)
Gruß (Text: Heinrich Heine) Leise zieht durch mein Gemüt Liebliches Geläute, Klinge, kleines Frühlingslied, Kling hinaus ins Weite. Zieh hinaus bis an das Haus, Wo die Veilchen sprießen, Wenn du eine Rose schaust, Sag, ich laß sie grüßen. | Greeting Soft-perfused throughout my being Wafts sweetly mellow bell-song; Resound, thou pithy song of Spring, Ring through the great beyond. Venture forth to that abode Where violets are sprouting; If thou shouldst espy a rose, Say, I send love's greeting. |
Dereinst, Gedanke mein (Text: Emanuel von Geibel) Dereinst, dereinst, Gedanke mein, Wirst ruhig sein. Läßt Liebesglut Dich still nicht werden, In kühler Erden, Da schläfst du gut, Dort ohne Lieb' Und ohne Pein Wirst ruhig sein. Was du im Leben Nicht hast gefunden, Wenn es entschwunden, Wird's dir gegeben, Dann ohne Wunden Und ohne Pein Wirst ruhig sein. | One Day, My Troubled Mind One day, someday, My troubled mind, Peace thou shalt find. Love's burning heat Peace doth disavow; In frigid earth thou Shalt soundly sleep, There, without love And without pain, At peace remain. What by thou whilst living Could not be found, When from life unbound, To thee shall be given; Then, without a wound And without pain, At peace remain. |
Lauf der Welt (Text: Ludwig Uhland) An jedem Abend geh' ich aus Hinauf den Wiesensteg. Sie schaut aus ihrem Gartenhaus, Es stehet hart am Weg. Wir haben uns noch nie bestellt, Es ist nur so der Lauf der Welt. Ich weiß nicht, wie es so geschah, Seit lange küss' ich sie, Ich bitte nicht, sie sagt nicht: ja! Doch sagt sie: nein! auch nie. Wenn Lippe gern auf Lippe ruht, Wir hindern's nicht, uns dünkt es gut. Das Lüftchen mit der Rose spielt, Es fragt nicht: hast mich lieb? Das Röschen sich am Taue kühlt, Es sagt nicht lange: gib! Ich liebe sie, sie liebet mich, Doch keines sagt: ich liebe dich! | The Way of the World Each evening I go heading out Along the meadow lane. She gazes from her summer house, Which stands beside the way. We've neither wondered why 'tis so, 'Tis but the way the world doth go. I know not how, it happens thus, At length I kiss her so, I ask her naught; she says not, "Yes!" But neither says she, "No!" If lip on lip doth wish to rest, We stop them not, we think it best. The gentle breeze plays 'mid the roses, But, "Lovest thou me?" it asks them not. When cooling dew embraces those posies, They seldom say: "Please stop!" I do love her, she doth love me, Yet neither says: "I do love thee!" |
Die verschwiegene Nachtigall (Text: Karl Joseph Simrock) Unter der Linden, an der Haide, wo ich mit meinem Trauten saß, da mögt ihr finden, wie wir beide die Blumen brachen und das Gras. Vor dem Wald mit süßem Schall, Tandaradei! sang im Tal die Nachtigall. Ich kam gegangen zu der Aue, mein Liebster kam vor mir dahin. Ich ward empfangen als hehre Fraue, daß ich noch immer selig bin. Ob er mir auch Küsse bot? Tandaradei! Seht, wie ist mein Mund so rot! Wie ich da ruhte, wüßt' es einer behüte Gott, ich schämte mich. Wie mich der Gute herzte, keiner erfahre das als er und ich - und ein kleines Vögelein, Tandaradei! das wird wohl verschwiegen sein. | The Secretive Nightingale Under the linden tree upon the heath, where I beside my darling sat, there you just might see how thus, beneath us both, were crush'd both blooms and grass. Sweet came sounds from the wooded vale, "Tan-da-ra-dye!" whence sang yonder nightingale. I had retreated to the river plain, where my love had preceded me. I was greeted like a noble dame, which made me ever so happy. But did he offer me a kiss? "Tan-da-ra-dye!" See, how red are now my lips! While napping, shouldst one know what I had done, merciful God, ashamed I'd be. How I was by my beau embraced, may none ever know, save for him and me - and a dear little bird, "Tan-da-ra-dye!" who'll well keep secret what occurred. |
Zur Rosenzeit (Text: Wehmut, by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe) Ihr verblühet, süße Rosen, Meine Liebe trug euch nicht; Blühtet, ach! dem Hoffnungslosen, Dem der Gram die Seele bricht! Jener Tage denk' ich trauernd, Als ich, Engel, an dir hing, Auf das erste Knöspchen lauernd Früh zu meinem Garten ging; Alle Blüten, alle Früchte Noch zu deinen Füßen trug Und vor deinem Angesichte Hoffnung in dem Herzen schlug. [NOTE: Grieg setting omits this verse, but instead repeats the first verse] Der auf erste Knöspchen lauernd früh zu seinem Garten ging, ach der Tage denk ich trauernd, als ich Engel an dir hing. | To the Time of Roses (Wistfulness) You are fading, sweetest roses, My love could not keep thee whole; O Bloom then! for that which is hopeless, For him whose sorrow shatters the soul! Sadly, I remember those days, When, Angel, o'er thee I'd attend, On the first dear bud I'd await While early through my garden I'd wend; All blooms, all fruitful abundance Were laid there before thy feet, And there before thy countenance Such hope through my heart yet beat. On that first dear bud I'd await While early through his garden I'd wend, Ah, sadly I remember the days, When, Angel, o'er thee I'd attend. |
Ein Traum (Text: Friedrich Martin von Bodenstedt) Mir träumte einst ein schöner Traum: Mich liebte eine blonde Maid; Es war am grünen Waldesraum, Es war zur warmen Frühlingszeit: Die Knospe sprang, der Waldbach schwoll, Fern aus dem Dorfe scholl Geläut - Wir waren ganzer Wonne voll, Versunken ganz in Seligkeit. Und schöner noch als einst der Traum Begab es sich in Wirklichkeit - Es war am grünen Waldesraum, Es war zur warmen Frühlingszeit: Der Waldbach schwoll, die Knospe sprang, Geläut erscholl vom Dorfe her - Ich hielt dich fest, ich hielt dich lang Und lasse dich nun nimmermehr! O frühlingsgrüner Waldesraum! Du lebst in mir durch alle Zeit - Dort ward die Wirklichkeit zum Traum, Dort ward der Traum zur Wirklichkeit! | A Dream Once I dreamt a beautiful dream: I did love a maiden fair; 'Twas in a forest glade of green, With balmy springtime weather there: Fresh buds sprang forth, the brook full-swelled, From the village bells rang sweetly - With great delights we were full-filled, Immersed in bliss completely. And lovelier than once-upon-a-dream In reality did yet occur - 'Twas in a forest glade of green, In balmy springtime weather: The brook full-swelled, new buds had sprung, Bells from the town rang sweetly - I held thee fast, I held thee long And nevermore shall release thee! O forest glade of spring's fresh green! Live thou in me eternally - Whence reality became a dream, Whence the dream became reality! |
Karol Szymanowski (1882-1937), sometimes called the father of modern Polish music, is the most important Polish composer of the early 20th Century. He perhaps is best-known in this country for his solo piano music and his Stabat Mater for chorus and orchestra, although now his four symphonies, two violin concertos, chamber music, vocal music, and stage works are becoming better known as new recordings become available. Szymanowski's early works show the decided influences of Chopin, Wagner, Scriabin, Reger and Richard Strauss, but as he traveled extensively through Europe and Mediterranean Africa, the influences from the different cultures he encountered, along with exposure to works by Debussy and Ravel, as well as to Stravinsky's early ballets, began to color his work. In 1926, Szymanowski was appointed director of the Warsaw Conservatory, and as he became enthralled with Polish folk music his later works grew more nationalistic, celebrating his Polish heritage. Suffering from tuberculosis, Szymanowski retired to a sanitorium in Switzerland in 1935, and died there in 1937.
Labedz, Op. 7 (Text: Waclaw Berent, 1873-1940) Obloczna góra ciagnie ptak W bezgwiezdna cisze przyszlych burz, Ponura groza krwawych zórz, W daleki, chmurny zwatpien szlak. Labedziu mój, z tesknoty mórz polotem twym daj bozy znak, Ty, bialych marzen bledny ptak, O dole, dole, moja wróz! Labedziu mój z marzenia wód, We snach sie isci bytu cud I snuje piekno rojem mar! Labedziu mój z nadziei stron, Ty zycia zludy wiescisz skon. I przedmogilnej piesni czar. | The Swan (Translation: Krzysztof Biernacki) A bird is flying in the cloudy heights Into the starless silence of upcoming storms, Through the grim terror of the bloody dawn, Into the distant, cloudy trail of doubts. My Swan, from the yearning of the seas, With your flight give me a divine sign, You, the errant bird of white dreams, Tell me, o tell me my fate! My swan, from waters of fancy, In dreams the wonder of being comes to life And spins beauty with the swarm of phantasms! My swan, from the world of hope, You herald the agony of life’s illusion. And the magic of pre-mortal song! |
We mglach Op. 2, No. 3 (Text: Kazimierz Przerwa Tetmajer, 1865-1940) We mglach strumienie szumia wód, po skale biegnac scietej, we mglach wieczorny opadl chlód na sennych fal odmety. We mglach zalobny pomruk z hal i z ciemnych szedl krzesanic, i we mglach splywa zal, ach zal! Bez dna, bez dna, bez granic! | In the mists (Translation: Krzysztof Biernacki) In the mists streams of water murmur, running down the steep, chiseled rock, in the mists the evening chill has fallen over the sleepy waves of the deep. In the mists the mourning murmur from mountain meadows has descended from dark precipices, and in the mists flows my sorrow, oh sorrow! Unfathomable, unfathomable, unbounded! |
Czasem, gdy dlugo na pól sennie marze Op. 2, No. 4 (Text: Kazimierz Przerwa-Tetmajer) Czasem, gdy dlugo na pól sennie marze, cudny kobiecy glos mie skads dolata, anielskie spiewajacy piesni, piekniejsze nizeli wszystkie piesni swiata. W glos ten sie cala zasluchuje dusza; serce mi tesknota wyrywa, poszedl bym za nim wszedzie! Nie wiem czy to milosc, czy smierc sie tak odzywa | Sometimes when at length I drowsily dream (Translation: Krzysztof Biernacki) Sometimes when at length I drowsily dream, a beautiful female voice flows to me from somewhere, singing angelic songs, more beautiful than all songs of the world. I listen to this voice with all my soul; nostalgia tears the heart out of my breast, I would follow the voice anywhere! I don’t know if this is love or death that calls me |
Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893) is an enduringly popular Russian composer whose melodic invention and orchestral brilliance remain unsurpassed. Among his best loved works are The 1812 Overture, Romeo and Juliet Fantasy-Overture, Symphonies No. 4-6, and the ballets Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake, and The Nutcracker; plus, his Violin Concerto and Piano Concerto No. 1 are cornerstones of the repertoire. Given his gift for singing melodies, it is not surprising that Tchaikovsky created some memorable songs, and the best-known, at least in the English-speaking world, is None but One Who Knows Longing, frequently performed in English as None but the Lonely Heart, and recorded by the likes of Frank Sinatra and Sarah Vaughan. And among Russians, Amidst the Din of the Ball, is said to be so well-known that just its first few notes are enough to instantly conjur thoughts of “love at first sight” throughout the populace.
Нет, толко тот, кто знал, Op. 6, No. 6
None but One Who Knows Longing
Text: Lev Aleksandrovich Mey (1822-1862), after a German poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832)
English translation from the Russian version ©2011, by E. Lein
Нет, только тот, кто знал Свиданья жажду, Поймет, как я страдал И как я стражду! Гляжу я вдаль, нет сил! Тускнеет око! Ах, кто меня любил И знал, далеко!.. Ах, только тот, кто знал Свиданья жажду, Поймет, как я страдал И как я стражду. Вся грудь горит! Кто знал Свиданья жажду, Поймет, как я страдал И как я стражду. | None, but one who knows The longing of farewell, Can know how much I've suffered And how I suffer still! I gaze into the distance, Helpless! The vision fades! O, the one who loved And knew me best--e'er far away! ... Ah, only one who knows The longing of farewell Can know just how I've suffered And how I suffer still. My whole breast burns! Who knows The longing of farewell Knows just how much I've suffered and how I suffer still. |
Средь шумного бала, Op. 38, No. 3
Amidst the din of the ball
Poem by Count Aleksei Konstantinovitch Tolstoy (1817-1875)
English version, ©2011 by E. Lein
Hear it on YouTube
Средь шумного бала, случайно, В тревоге мирской суеты, Тебя я увидел, но тайна Твои покрывала черты. Лишь очи печально глядели, А голос так дивно звучал, Как звон отдалённой свирели, Как моря играющий вал. Мне стан твой понравился тонкий И весь твой задумчивый вид, А смех твой, и грустный, и звонкий, С тех пор в моём сердце звучит. В часы одинокие ночи Люблю я, усталый, прилечь; Я вижу печальные очи, Я слышу веселую речь, И грустно я, грустно так засыпаю, И в грёзах неведомых сплю... Люблю ли тебя, я не знаю, Но кажется мне, что люблю! | Amidst the din of the ball, by chance, And by the madding crowd dismayed, I didst see thee yon, yet thy mood Lay masked behind thy mysterious gaze. Through thine eyes alone shown sadness, For thy voice sounded wondrously sweet, Like music performed by a distant flute, Or waves dancing upon the sea. Thy slender form enthralled me, As did thy pensive glance, And thy sad yet musical laughter Filled my heart, which has sung ever since. In nighttime's loneliest hours, When I've grown tired and long for sleep, I envision thy pensive eyes And thy merry, lilting speech. I feel sad then, succumbing to slumber, And then dreaming mysterious dreams ... I know not if this means I love thee, But "in love" is indeed how it seems! |
Растворил я окно, Op. 63, No. 2
I Opened Wide My Window
Original poetry by Konstantin Konstantinovich Romanov, Grand Duke of Russia (1858-1915);
English translation ©2011, by E. Lein
Растворил я окно - стало грустно не в мочь, опустился пред ним на колени, и в лицо мне пахнула весенняя ночь благовонным дыханьем сирени. А вдали где-то чудно запел соловей; я внимал ему с грустью глубокой... И с тоскою о родине вспомнил своей; об отчизне я вспомнил далекой, Где родной соловей песнь родную поёт и, не зная земных огорчений, заливается целую ночь напролёт над душистою веткой сирени... | I opened wide my window - it was unbearably warm - I sank there before it, onto my knees, and upon my face the spring night breathed the fragrant perfume of sweet lilac blooms. And from afar a wondrous nightingale sang out; I listened to him then with growing sadness ... and with longing as my thoughts were carried home; I remembered my dear Fatherland, so very far away, Where the native nightingale recites our native lays, and, unknowing of the sorrows of the world, he fills as yet the sultry night with song, perched there upon a fragrant lilac bough ... |
Although some of the lighter orchestral pieces by Roger Quilter (1877-1953) are still performed, outside his native Great Britain Quilter's reputation is sustained primarily through his art songs, which number more than a hundred. Quilter began his studies at Eton College, and in the 1890s he continued his musical education in Germany. In addition to Quilter, there were several other English-speaking composers who studied at the Hoch Conservatory in Frankfurt (although not all at the exact same time), including Percy Grainger and Cyril Scott, and together they became known as the "Frankfurt Group." In 1900, Quilter published his first songs, and following performances the next year he quickly became established as a composer with a special gift for creating melodies that enhanced the natural rhythm of the words, while also providing fully-realized accompaniments that nonetheless allowed the singer to make expressive use of rubato. As an interpreter of his own songs, Quilter sometimes provided the piano accompaniment for public performances, and he even recorded several of them. The Seven Elizabethan Lyrics, Op. 12, date from 1908, and contributed favorably to Quilter’s growing reputation.
Three selections from Seven Elizabethan Lyrics, Op. 12
No. 2: My life's delight (Words: Thomas Campion)
Come, O come, my life's delight!
Let me not in languor pine:
Love loves no delay, thy sight
The more enjoyed, the more divine.
O come, o come and take from me
The pain of being deprived of thee.
Thou all sweetness dost enclose,
Like a little world of bliss:
Beauty, beauty guards thy looks:
The rose in them pure and eternal is.
Come then! Come then, o come and make thy flight
As swift, as swift to me as heavenly light!
No. 3: Damask Roses (Words: Anonymous)
Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting,
Which clad in damask mantles deck the arbours,
And then behold your lips where sweet love harbours,
My eyes present me with a double doubting;
For, viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes
Whether the roses be your lips or your lips the roses.
No. 7: Fair House of Joy (Words: Anonymous)
Fain would I change that note
To which fond Love hath charm'd me
Long, long to sing by rote,
Fancying that that harm'd me:
Yet when this thought doth come
“Love, love is the perfect sum
Of all delight!”
I have no other choice
Either for pen or voice
To sing or write.
O Love! They wrong thee much
That say thy sweet is bitter,
When thy rich fruit is such
As nothing can be sweeter.
Fair house of joy and bliss,
Where truest pleasure is,
I do adore thee:
I know thee what thou art,
I serve thee with my heart,
And fall before thee,
And fall before thee.
