Art Song for Art Song’s Sake, by BLC

“Song New York, A Concert of Vocal Music.” by Deak, Earnest, de Kenessey, Owen, Peaslee, Jonny and Lou Rodgers, Rorem, Sinco and Spektor. Soprano Elizabeth Cherry; Mezzo Wendy Brown; tenor John Nelson; baritone Charles Coleman; pianist Thomas Carlo Bo. Presented by Golden Fleece Ltd., the Composers Theatre. Renee Weiler Recital Hall, GHMS. Dec, 8, 2006.

A program made up of nothing but what are still called “art songs” can be a risky affair. For one thing, even with all of the stages of evolution music has moved through since, say, Franz Schubert, the basic elements of a good song, one that touches the senses or just grabs one by the throat, are still very much the same, regardless of style, musical system or even language. This writer may be tempted to limit the art song to the mold of the European tradition, yet is not a song sung by Buffy St. Marie just as artful in ts way as one by Faure or, yes, Rorem, who num-bered among the selected composers this evening? Well St. Marie is generally not included on such programs, and the pool drawn from tends to be made up of the same colored waters, ripples and content from one end to the other.

Perhaps the rapidly failing hearing of a critic is a factor that colors his judgment, because words are essential in getting a handle on a potpourri of newly encountered works. Even when the musical line is utterly exquisite, the sense of a song needs to be felt in its entirety. So one question we ask is why texts were not supplied with the programs tonight. True, the lights were lowered for the audience, a situation which would have made text hard to follow. But there is always the opportunity to look them over beforehand or even afterward, for a musical experience does not have to end with the last note. The singing, while often quite winning, especially by Wendy Brown, favored the long legato line over clear diction. So to firm up our judgment we asked several of the composers to send us the texts. The genie-like Google also came to our aid in tracking down the poetic lines.

Was it planned or just coincidental that the opening four-song set, “Simon Says” by Carmela Sinco, was the raciest and most contemporaneously chorded of the evening with punchy cadences and tongue-in-cheek underpinnings in the piano part, played to perfection by Mr. Bo. Baritone Coleman had a great time singing these songs, and his by now infamous “See-how-comfortable-I-am-in my-own-skin” posture served him well here.

Also somewhat dissonant were the two dramatic offerings by Richard Owen that followed. The second selection. “I felt a funeral in my brain,” was substantial in length and confirmed the belief that Emily Dickenson is only matched by St. Nicholas in gift-giving, especially to composers of song. For this poem (see below) , even if clearly of the 19th century and not one of her best, is ahead of its time in honestly revealing the inner feelings of the creative artist as it surges on. The two songs may not have been ideally served by the pleasant but not very commanding tenor voice of John Nelson, but he made up for thinness with firm control and understanding.

To soften the severity of the program, there was a pleasant change of pace offered after intermission by Jonny Rodgers, Lou’s nephew. He sang three songs which he accompanied himself on guitar. We liked the final song best, “A Bowl of Black-berries,” which has nothing to do with pocket computers.

The songs performed solo by Wendy Brown ranged from Mira Spektor’s intriguing Mary Shelley set, to John David Ear-nest’s yearning cycle, In Tomorrow’s Fields, to Ned Rorem’s fresh, dewy “Early in the Morning,” a truly wide-ranging as-sortment to test her stunningly impressive vocal line. With Mr. Coleman, she sang Richard Peaslee’s conversational “This Year, Next Year,” and Lou Rodgers’ near Sondheim-like “Island of Us,” from her Aquitaine Dialogues.

Already stage-experienced and well-schooled, Elizabeth Cherry, who appears so youthfully unpretentious and sensual, with a smile that, as they used to say when language never went beyond staid bounds, can knock your socks off, was utterly delicious in three songs by Jon Deak. The cycle, True Intimate Confessions, included “When My Husband’s Away” and “30 Days Without Sex.” Since their lyrics derived from True Confessions Magazines, reading matter for pre-menstrual housewives, you can bet they border on soap opera more than hot sex. Sandwiched between those two, “Oh, God, Please Take Back Our Little Girl,” was a serious statement about the agony of accepting a malformed baby.

Ms. Cherry was equally effective when teamed up with Ms. Brown in a song (“Rachel Dances by the Sea”) by Stefania
de Kenessey, and with Mr. Nelson and Ms. Brown. She also formed a sweet trio with Messrs. Nelson and Coleman in “The Rainbow,” a setting by Mr. Rorem of a poem by Wordsworth. It ended the program convincingly, one of the best we have witnessed from Lou Rodgers and her Golden Fleece.

I felt a funeral in my brain,
And mourners, to and fro,
Kept treading, treading, till it seemed
That sense was breaking through.

And when they all were seated,
A service like a drum
Kept beating, beating, till I thought
My mind was going numb.

And then I heard them lift a box,
And creak across my soul
With those same boots of lead, again.
Then space began to toll

As all the heavens were a bell,
And Being but an ear,
And I and silence some strange race,
Wrecked, solitary, here.

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