PROGRAM NOTE:
Epiphanies is a set of five orchestral songs that together act as a vocal concerto, in the manner of the solo motets of Mozart (for example, his Exsultate, jubilate) and Handel (his Saeviat tellus inter rigores). In addition to the purely vocal virtuosity one can expect from such a set, linguistic virtuosity is represented in Epiphanies in that each song is in a different language, setting texts by Federico García Lorca (in Spanish), Rainer Maria Rilke (in German), Charles Baudelaire (in French), Eugenio Montale (in Italian), and Zsófia Bán (in Hungarian).
The texts each depict a magical event or scenario which is nonetheless quotidian, and are further connected by shared images or ideas: Lorca’s stars carry over into Rilke’s stellar display; Rilke’s question—“Do you still remember?”—is answered by Baudelaire’s “I have not forgotten”; appearing (perhaps) in Baudelaire’s bucolic setting is Montale’s hoopoe, a flamboyant bird that is then echoed by Bán’s bird of life; finally, coming full circle, the new life that Bán’s bird announces harkens back to Lorca’s girl, whose hypnotic swinging begins this set of songs.
Epiphanies is a celebration of Robin Johannsen’s impressive artistry, and these songs were written specifically for her. She has been a close friend and model of—equally—artistry and humanity for most of my life. Epiphanies also celebrates the life of Lois Lehrman Grass, my dear friend and ardent supporter for nearly 30 years, who died in 2022. Each song, by focusing on the magical of the everyday, is intended as a musical manifestation of the magic of friendship and love, an expression of the joys and sorrows of sharing our little bit of life with those we hold dear. Zsófia Bán’s text is particularly apt in this case. She wrote it at my request, specifically to end this set of songs, and I presented her with only two requests: that she write something deeply personal (she decided to write of the morning her daughter was born, after a long wait, heralded by the magical bird she evokes), and that she end her text with the word “life,” thus remembering Lois’s preferred toast: in Hebrew, “l’chaim”—“to life.”