After my first solo performance last weekend of the alto part in the Charpentier Messe de Minuit in Henley, I'm now working towards a performance workshop with Paul Arden-Griffiths at the end of March and desperately trying to select and learn two pieces for it. I have settled (I think) on the beautiful "Ah! Not a Drop!" which is a setting by Victorian composer Liza Lehmann of verses from the Rubaiyat of Omar Kayyam, and "Don't Tell Mama" from Cabaret (Kander & Ebb).
The first piece is really interesting as the first page of music is a capella (unaccompanied) and will be a real test of my tuning when the piano comes in! The words are about the link between what grows or falls onto the earth, and what lies beneath: And not a drop that from our Cups we throw For Earth to drink of, but may steal below To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden—far beneath, and long ago. I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head. And this delightful Herb whose tender Green Fledges the River’s Lip on which we lean-- Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen! The Rubaiyat is utterly lovely and if you haven't read it, you should. Apart from the fact that you will recognise many of the lines from it ("The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, moves on"), Khayyam was a true wine lover and his joy in the grape is evident throughout. The second piece is of course a Sally Bowles classic. I never got to do as much musical theatre as I'd have liked when I was younger and if there are two roles I yearned to do they were Eliza Dolittle and Sally Bowles. Both have some of the best songs ever written (a female lead with a character song?? You jest, surely!). Don't Tell Mama is a song Sally performs in the Kit Kat Klub, the words are self-evident: Mama, Thinks I'm living in a convent, A secluded little convent In the southern part of France. Mama Doesn't even have an inkling That I'm working in a Nightclub In a pair of Lacy pants. So please, sir. If you run into my Mama, Don't reveal my indiscretion, Give a working girl a chance. Hush up, Don't tell Mama, Shush up, Don't tell Mama... Don't tell Mama, Whatever you do. If you had a secret, You bet I would keep it. I would never tell on you. I'm breaking every promise That I gave her, So won't you kindly do a girl A great big favour? And please, my sweet patater, Keep this from the Mater, Though my dance Is not against the law. You can tell my Papa, that's all right, 'Cause he comes in here every night, But don't tell Mama what you saw! Mama Thinks I'm on a tour of Europe, With a couple of my school chums And a lady chaperone. Mama Doesn't even have an inkling That I left them all in Antwerp And I'm touring on my own. So please, Sir If you run into my Mama Don't reveal my indiscretion. Just leave well enough alone. Hush up, Don't tell Mama. Shush up, Don't tell Mama; Don't tell Mama Whatever you do. If you had a secret, You bet I would keep it. I would never tell on you. You wouldn't want to get me in a pickle, And have her go and cut me off without a nickle. So let's trust one another, Keep this from my mother, Though I'm still as pure as mountain snow. You can tell my Uncle Here and now 'Cause he's my agent anyhow, But don't tell Mama what you know. You can tell my brother, That ain't grim 'Cause if her squeals on me I'll squeal on him, But don't tell Mama, bitte Don't tell Mama, please, Sir. Don't tell Mama, what you know. If you see my, Mummy, Mum's the word!
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AuthorWhat I'm up to and what I'm thinking about. Nothing special! Archives
November 2019
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