Spring 2023 Concert: sea change
Program Notes
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This program is supported, in part, by public funds from the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs in Partnership with the City Council, and by the Aaron Copeland Fund for Music.
Full Fathom Five
Vince Peterson (2011)
Katherine Doe Morse, conductor
Full Fathom Five was written and published in 2011 for the ensemble Chanticleer.
This features the monologue in Act 1 scene 2 of William Shakespeare’s The Tempest, when Ariel is attempting the comfort Ferdinand, who’s father is believed to have died in a shipwreck and lies at the bottom of the ocean. The three-part alto ostinato depicts the sea nymphs that now care for Ferdinand’s father, making them resemble a doo-wop backup group.
Of this piece, the composer says “I wanted this piece to have a hybrid personality that mixed the spirit of "sea chanty" with a sense of mysticism, reminding us that none of us really knows what happens when we die, but we can still be good humored about it as Ariel is attempting to be toward Ferdinand in this scene from The Tempest.” - KDM
Text:
Vince Peterson (2011)
Katherine Doe Morse, conductor
Full Fathom Five was written and published in 2011 for the ensemble Chanticleer.
This features the monologue in Act 1 scene 2 of William Shakespeare’s The Tempest, when Ariel is attempting the comfort Ferdinand, who’s father is believed to have died in a shipwreck and lies at the bottom of the ocean. The three-part alto ostinato depicts the sea nymphs that now care for Ferdinand’s father, making them resemble a doo-wop backup group.
Of this piece, the composer says “I wanted this piece to have a hybrid personality that mixed the spirit of "sea chanty" with a sense of mysticism, reminding us that none of us really knows what happens when we die, but we can still be good humored about it as Ariel is attempting to be toward Ferdinand in this scene from The Tempest.” - KDM
Text:
Full Fathom Five
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them—Ding-dong, bell.
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them—Ding-dong, bell.
Sessions of Sweet Silent Thought
Steven Gerber (2004)
Daniel Andor-Ardó & Robert Buonaspina, conductors
Steven R. Gerber was born on September 28, 1948 in Washington, D.C. He held degrees from Haverford College and from Princeton University, where he received a 4-year fellowship. Steven's music composition teachers include Robert Parris, J. K. Randall, Earl Kim, and Milton Babbitt. Steven R. Gerber was living in his long-time home of New York City at the time of his death from cancer on May 28, 2015. His beloved partner, Dr. Norma Hymes, died in July of 2010.
Steven Gerber (2004)
Daniel Andor-Ardó & Robert Buonaspina, conductors
Steven R. Gerber was born on September 28, 1948 in Washington, D.C. He held degrees from Haverford College and from Princeton University, where he received a 4-year fellowship. Steven's music composition teachers include Robert Parris, J. K. Randall, Earl Kim, and Milton Babbitt. Steven R. Gerber was living in his long-time home of New York City at the time of his death from cancer on May 28, 2015. His beloved partner, Dr. Norma Hymes, died in July of 2010.
Sonnet 30
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanish'd sight;
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanish'd sight;
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end.
Sonnet 129
Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight,
Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had
Past reason hated as a swallowed bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so,
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight,
Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had
Past reason hated as a swallowed bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so,
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
Sonnet 71
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell;
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it; for I love you so,
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O, if (I say) you look upon this verse,
When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay,
Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
And mock you with me after I am gone.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell;
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it; for I love you so,
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O, if (I say) you look upon this verse,
When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay,
Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
And mock you with me after I am gone.
Sonnet 9
Is it for fear to wet a widow’s eye
That thou consum’st thyself in single life?
Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee like a makeless wife;
The world will be thy widow and still weep
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep,
By children’s eyes, her husband’s shape in mind.
Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty’s waste hath in the world an end,
And, kept unused, the user so destroys it.
No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murd’rous shame commits.
Is it for fear to wet a widow’s eye
That thou consum’st thyself in single life?
Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee like a makeless wife;
The world will be thy widow and still weep
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep,
By children’s eyes, her husband’s shape in mind.
Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty’s waste hath in the world an end,
And, kept unused, the user so destroys it.
No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murd’rous shame commits.
Sonnet 130
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Thirst Trap
Perry Townsend (2021)
Evan Johnson, conductor
Julianna Grabowski - soprano soloist, Leslie Frost - alto soloist, Jacob Lyon - tenor soloist, Perry Townsend - bass soloist
Remember the lockdown? The heightened isolation of that time amplified many parts of life that were already strange enough. For instance, the effect of constant screen time, where "virtual space" no longer merely accompanied the "meat space" of physical interaction, but practically replaced it. Any way you sliced it, that was just plain weird.
At some point early in 2021, alone in my apartment, I kept returning to that hackneyed cyber-phrase, the "thirst trap." Beyond its surface meaning of posting sexy pictures of yourself, hoping to lure admirers into your web, lay the spectacle of all sorts of online behavior which can sometimes spiral from entertainment into attention-seeking desperation, or even addiction.
Where exactly does posting pics of your life, or hosting cool platforms, or doing political warfare in the Daily Beast comment section ... become plain ol' thirsty co-dependence? How do we move from just saying something to saying it for the purpose of scoring reactions? Can we even tell the difference after a while?
Before I knew it, out came this poem and its musical setting. At the time, C4 was performing “remotely” using Jamulus for sound and Zoom for visual, so I tailored the piece to that. Tonight we perform it in meat space for the first time. Much of the text is given to 4 soloists, busily tending to their subscriber lists while the choir intones the mantra "look at me." Writing such a thing for online performance was definitely not a call for validation of any sort, though. If you agree, be sure to smash that Like button!
-- Perry Townsend
Text
look-at-me look-at-me look-at-me
like me, check me out
that's hot, right?
give me all the feels
look-at-me
like my post
share my pic
spread my meme
re-tweet me
make me feel wanted, valid, okay, virtuous
please help me to not be empty
look-at-me look-at-me look-at-me
i'm gonna help you fight boredom
if you help me with my ego
scratch my back i'll scratch yours
what else we gonna do
scrolling til 4, right?
tell me i'm good, i'm hot,
i'm worthy, i'm wholesome
tell me my apartment looks cool
my yard is dope
my performances are amazing
my cat is cute
tell me my punditry is insightful
my memes are trending (yes!)
my subscriptions have doubled
my Insta is exploding
look-at-me look-at-me look-at-me
like it, and i'll post more
love it, and i'll give you even sweeter angles
adore it, and i'll be yours completely
at least for today, til next time
look-at-me look-at-me look-at-me
cuz next time
you gotta give me some love all over again, k?
like this never happened
Perry Townsend (2021)
Evan Johnson, conductor
Julianna Grabowski - soprano soloist, Leslie Frost - alto soloist, Jacob Lyon - tenor soloist, Perry Townsend - bass soloist
Remember the lockdown? The heightened isolation of that time amplified many parts of life that were already strange enough. For instance, the effect of constant screen time, where "virtual space" no longer merely accompanied the "meat space" of physical interaction, but practically replaced it. Any way you sliced it, that was just plain weird.
At some point early in 2021, alone in my apartment, I kept returning to that hackneyed cyber-phrase, the "thirst trap." Beyond its surface meaning of posting sexy pictures of yourself, hoping to lure admirers into your web, lay the spectacle of all sorts of online behavior which can sometimes spiral from entertainment into attention-seeking desperation, or even addiction.
Where exactly does posting pics of your life, or hosting cool platforms, or doing political warfare in the Daily Beast comment section ... become plain ol' thirsty co-dependence? How do we move from just saying something to saying it for the purpose of scoring reactions? Can we even tell the difference after a while?
Before I knew it, out came this poem and its musical setting. At the time, C4 was performing “remotely” using Jamulus for sound and Zoom for visual, so I tailored the piece to that. Tonight we perform it in meat space for the first time. Much of the text is given to 4 soloists, busily tending to their subscriber lists while the choir intones the mantra "look at me." Writing such a thing for online performance was definitely not a call for validation of any sort, though. If you agree, be sure to smash that Like button!
-- Perry Townsend
Text
look-at-me look-at-me look-at-me
like me, check me out
that's hot, right?
give me all the feels
look-at-me
like my post
share my pic
spread my meme
re-tweet me
make me feel wanted, valid, okay, virtuous
please help me to not be empty
look-at-me look-at-me look-at-me
i'm gonna help you fight boredom
if you help me with my ego
scratch my back i'll scratch yours
what else we gonna do
scrolling til 4, right?
tell me i'm good, i'm hot,
i'm worthy, i'm wholesome
tell me my apartment looks cool
my yard is dope
my performances are amazing
my cat is cute
tell me my punditry is insightful
my memes are trending (yes!)
my subscriptions have doubled
my Insta is exploding
look-at-me look-at-me look-at-me
like it, and i'll post more
love it, and i'll give you even sweeter angles
adore it, and i'll be yours completely
at least for today, til next time
look-at-me look-at-me look-at-me
cuz next time
you gotta give me some love all over again, k?
like this never happened
i engraft you new
Leslie Frost (2022)
Karen Siegel, conductor
Cynthia Shaw, soprano solo & Robert Buonaspina, tenor solo
This musical setting of William Shakespeare's Sonnet XV is my attempt to grapple with the meaning of the text within a temporal, spatial and sonic framework. With the singers walking in a "clock" formation, two soloists sing the rhyming lines of this sonnet with time as a central theme. The repeated rhythmic "walking" pattern of the choir represents eternity. The soloists portray two human artists seeking to imagine forms which re-imagine human experience by creating ideas within a structure in motion: an artistic procreation within the realm of imagination.
Composed in 2022, i engraft you new, is dedicated to the work of Michael Holleran - Zen Sensei, Catholic priest and former Carthusian monk; and leader of the Centering Prayer group I attend every week at Corpus Christi Church in Manhattan. This group practices walking meditation which led to the conception of this musical work
Leslie Frost (2022)
Karen Siegel, conductor
Cynthia Shaw, soprano solo & Robert Buonaspina, tenor solo
This musical setting of William Shakespeare's Sonnet XV is my attempt to grapple with the meaning of the text within a temporal, spatial and sonic framework. With the singers walking in a "clock" formation, two soloists sing the rhyming lines of this sonnet with time as a central theme. The repeated rhythmic "walking" pattern of the choir represents eternity. The soloists portray two human artists seeking to imagine forms which re-imagine human experience by creating ideas within a structure in motion: an artistic procreation within the realm of imagination.
Composed in 2022, i engraft you new, is dedicated to the work of Michael Holleran - Zen Sensei, Catholic priest and former Carthusian monk; and leader of the Centering Prayer group I attend every week at Corpus Christi Church in Manhattan. This group practices walking meditation which led to the conception of this musical work
Text:
Sonnet XV
When I consider everything that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth not, but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment'
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheered and checked even by the selfsame sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night;
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
Sonnet XV
When I consider everything that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth not, but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment'
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheered and checked even by the selfsame sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night;
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
The Words
Jamie Klenetsky Fay (2020, updated 2023)
Jacob Lyon, conductor
Alexa Letourneau, soloist
This piece focuses on stigma and self-identity, and how the words others use to describe us can burrow deep into our psyche, influencing how we think of ourselves.
Whether we’re bullied about our intelligence, mental health, or gender presentation, being “othered” can keep us from discovering our true selves.
But if we have the words – words of definition, and words of love – we can come closer to knowing who we really are.
- Jamie Klenetsky Fay
Text:
Jamie Klenetsky Fay (2020, updated 2023)
Jacob Lyon, conductor
Alexa Letourneau, soloist
This piece focuses on stigma and self-identity, and how the words others use to describe us can burrow deep into our psyche, influencing how we think of ourselves.
Whether we’re bullied about our intelligence, mental health, or gender presentation, being “othered” can keep us from discovering our true selves.
But if we have the words – words of definition, and words of love – we can come closer to knowing who we really are.
- Jamie Klenetsky Fay
Text:
I was different, they said.
I heard every word.
[Different. Weird. Wrong. Tomboy. Gay. Hysterical. Prude. Dirty. Freak!]
I didn’t feel things like the others
So I was Other, then.
I only had their words to say it.
Their words
Crowding out my thoughts
Their words
Becoming my language
I became fluent in their words.
But I didn’t know…
I didn’t know, I didn’t have a way to say it.
That it was okay just to be
To embrace all of it, all I am
I didn’t know that words of love could change everything.
I didn’t know that words can set you free
Nobody told you
Nehuen Gattella (2023)
Perry Townsend, conductor
“Nobody told you” is a piece based on the 29th Shakespeare sonnet. In the text, the author expresses the concern that he has with his own work. In this feeling the piece is based, because of this the melodic material is taken from the first symphony of J. Brahms a work that, once again, was postponed because of the doubts that Brahms himself thought of him.
With these two materials (melodic and text) the piece is made. The text is not always clear to understand as a metaphor of the train of thought inside the artist's head and the melodic material is always present but hidden. The entire work can be heard as a big long crescendo with a climax and a decay that brings stability and stillness to end the piece.
Text:
Sonnet 29
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Nehuen Gattella (2023)
Perry Townsend, conductor
“Nobody told you” is a piece based on the 29th Shakespeare sonnet. In the text, the author expresses the concern that he has with his own work. In this feeling the piece is based, because of this the melodic material is taken from the first symphony of J. Brahms a work that, once again, was postponed because of the doubts that Brahms himself thought of him.
With these two materials (melodic and text) the piece is made. The text is not always clear to understand as a metaphor of the train of thought inside the artist's head and the melodic material is always present but hidden. The entire work can be heard as a big long crescendo with a climax and a decay that brings stability and stillness to end the piece.
Text:
Sonnet 29
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
my son my one
Molly Pease (2020)
Karen Siegel, conductor
There is no one on earth who has taught me more about what love means than my father. Watching him struggle with addiction, severe depression, cancer and later, dementia, I learned about the ugly side of love. I thought for a long time that I had lost the father that I knew, since he changed so much during those years. Somehow, he kept writing poetry and sent me dozens of emails year after year with hoards of jumbled documents - these new poems stylistically became more and more minimalist. It was strange how as his mind drifted further away, his poetry seemed to come closer to me (I could never understand the layered, flowery prose he used to write). One day I heard a melody in one of the poems he sent – it was this one, “my son my one”. The words were a call out from the darkness of his mind, asking for love. He had turned to God in recent years, as he found it impossible to love himself anymore. Randall Pease passed away in November of 2017, but I know now that he is not lost. He has found peace, and his love reaches out through his poetry, and through the voices who sing his words.
— Molly Pease
Text:
As if the sun
disguised by clouds
its sight not found
by an addict
since visual is
only what’s real.
chrysalis
blossoms this
fragrant wing
where sun sings
into play
this one day,
only here.
invisible
impossible.
him all alone
no heart known.
buried in skin
dark clouds blind him,
makes permanent
spirit absence.
a willing prayer
under layers
of disbelief —
God set me free
from material
to spiritual.
— Randall Pease
Molly Pease (2020)
Karen Siegel, conductor
There is no one on earth who has taught me more about what love means than my father. Watching him struggle with addiction, severe depression, cancer and later, dementia, I learned about the ugly side of love. I thought for a long time that I had lost the father that I knew, since he changed so much during those years. Somehow, he kept writing poetry and sent me dozens of emails year after year with hoards of jumbled documents - these new poems stylistically became more and more minimalist. It was strange how as his mind drifted further away, his poetry seemed to come closer to me (I could never understand the layered, flowery prose he used to write). One day I heard a melody in one of the poems he sent – it was this one, “my son my one”. The words were a call out from the darkness of his mind, asking for love. He had turned to God in recent years, as he found it impossible to love himself anymore. Randall Pease passed away in November of 2017, but I know now that he is not lost. He has found peace, and his love reaches out through his poetry, and through the voices who sing his words.
— Molly Pease
Text:
As if the sun
disguised by clouds
its sight not found
by an addict
since visual is
only what’s real.
chrysalis
blossoms this
fragrant wing
where sun sings
into play
this one day,
only here.
invisible
impossible.
him all alone
no heart known.
buried in skin
dark clouds blind him,
makes permanent
spirit absence.
a willing prayer
under layers
of disbelief —
God set me free
from material
to spiritual.
— Randall Pease
sea change
TJ Sclafani (2023)
Julianna Grabowski, conductor
Karen Siegel, soprano solo
This piece was written for C4's May 2023 concert honoring the memory of composer Steven R. Gerber, as part of an ongoing partnership with the Steven R. Gerber Trust. The text is inspired by words and concepts found in "Full Fathom Five," a rather infamous song sung by Ariel to Ferdinand in The Tempest. If you would like to know more about the piece, email the composer at [email protected].
Text:
TJ Sclafani (2023)
Julianna Grabowski, conductor
Karen Siegel, soprano solo
This piece was written for C4's May 2023 concert honoring the memory of composer Steven R. Gerber, as part of an ongoing partnership with the Steven R. Gerber Trust. The text is inspired by words and concepts found in "Full Fathom Five," a rather infamous song sung by Ariel to Ferdinand in The Tempest. If you would like to know more about the piece, email the composer at [email protected].
Text:
|
ding dong
ding dong the surface still spills crests, troughs, plumes, waves i wonder will you find me some thirty feet below. the world has passed me by ships sail, cities fall i see a stirring darkness and that is all i know. nothing fades is it the sad insistence of losing what once was there, that stifles our present being and prevents a potent future? |
or is it never knowing,
that languid permutation, of suffering a sea change into something rich and strange? nothing fades my body is a colony of porous anthozoans i am a mausoleum of life and what may grow the nereids bells chime the ones above are calm i hear a deeper ringing it's time to let me go. ding dong ding dong |
Not to Beat
Ekaterina Khmelevskaya (2023)
Emma Daniels, conductor
The piece "Not To Beat" was written especially for the vocal ensemble C4. This piece offers a fresh new look at Shakespeare's great, but also quite familiar and hackneyed, quotes and also sets the very name of the writer. These world-famous words and phrases break up into syllables and sounds, which turn into the building material for a musical composition.
-Ekaterina Khmelevskaya
Ekaterina Khmelevskaya (2023)
Emma Daniels, conductor
The piece "Not To Beat" was written especially for the vocal ensemble C4. This piece offers a fresh new look at Shakespeare's great, but also quite familiar and hackneyed, quotes and also sets the very name of the writer. These world-famous words and phrases break up into syllables and sounds, which turn into the building material for a musical composition.
-Ekaterina Khmelevskaya
Text
William [Sh][ks][peare]
What's in a name? That we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
To be, or not to be, that is the question.
William [Sh][ks][peare]
What's in a name? That we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
To be, or not to be, that is the question.
P.S. If you feel moved to make a donation to C4's "virtual tip jar," feel free to Venmo us at @c4ensemble. You can also donate via PayPal ([email protected]), or via credit card.
