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All Who Wander

Jamie Barton mezzo-soprano

Brian Zegerpiano

ORIGIN

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ORIGIN

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MAHLER – Five Rückert Songs: Ich atmet’ einen linden Duft ♦ Liebst du um Schönheit ♦ Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder! ♦ Um Mitternacht ♦ Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen ♦ (from various song cycles) Ich ging mit Lust ♦ Erinnerung ♦ Scheiden und Meiden

DVOŘÁK – Gypsy Songs, Op. 55: Má píseň zas mi láskou zní ♦ Aj! Kterak trojhranec můj přerozkošně zvoní ♦ A les je tichý kolem kol ♦ Když mne stará matka zpívat, zpívat učívala ♦ Struna naladěna ♦ Široké rukávy a široké gatě ♦ Dejte klec jestřábu ze zlata ryzého

SIBELIUS – Svarta rosor ♦ Säv, säv, susa ♦ Flickan kom ♦ Kyssens Hopp ♦ Marssnön ♦ Var det en dröm?

Total Playing Time: 60:48

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All Who Wa n d e rJ a m i e B a r t o n , m e z z o - s o p r a n o ; B r i a n Z e g e r , p i a n o

"The world has been waiting for this voice for a long time – one that reminds you of how capable the human voice is of creating something of absolute beauty. Jamie pours all of her heart into every phrase of this deeply personal debut album. You will be utterly transported."

– Joyce DiDonato

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Gustav Mahler (1860-1911): Fünf Lieder nach Rückert (Five Rückert Songs)

1. Ich atmet’ einen linden Duft (2:43)

2. Liebst du um Schönheit (2:44)

3. Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder! (1:32)

4. Um Mitternacht (6:56)

5. Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen (6:49) (from various song cycles)6. Ich ging mit Lust (4:41)

7. Erinnerung (2:46)

8. Scheiden und Meiden (2:43)

Antonin Dvořák (1841-1904): Cigánské melodie (Gypsy Songs) – Op. 55

9. Má píseň zas mi láskou zní (2:51)

10. Aj! Kterak trojhranec můj přerozkošně zvoní (1:13)

11. A les je tichý kolem kol (3:17)

12. Když mne stará matka zpívat, zpívat učívala (2:41)

13. Struna naladěna (1:11)

14. Široké rukávy a široké gatě (1:40)

15. Dejte klec jestřábu ze zlata ryzého (2:04)

Jean sibelius (1865-1957):

16. Svarta rosor – Op. 36, No. 1 (2:20)

17. Säv, säv, susa – Op. 36, No. 4 (2:55)

18. Flickan kom – Op. 37, No. 5 (3:28)

19. Kyssens Hopp – Op. 13, No.2 (2:18)

20. Marssnön – Op. 36, No. 5 (1:39)

21. Var det en dröm? – Op. 37, No. 4 (2:12)

Total Playing Time: 60:48

JAMIE BARTON, mezzo-sopranoBRIAN ZEGER, piano

All Who Wander

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All Who Wander is inspired by something that lives within all of us, the little voice in us that wants us to step out and experi-

ence the world. The desire to be a gypsy or a wanderer is the idea of breaking free from the trappings of society and finding oneself.

I’ve always been drawn to the lush mu-sic and storytelling in art songs of the late 1800s. Each one of the three composers I’ve chosen for this recording represents a different culture and different language, but all of them are masters at bringing text alive through their distinctive compositional styles. They create equally rich musical land-scapes and emotional journeys as they por-tray characters deeply connected to nature and their surroundings, with poignant stories to tell and insights to share.

Of these composers, Dvořák is to me the one who has most locked into an authen-tic, naturalistic quality in his setting of Ad-olf Heyduk’s Cigánské melodie (Gypsy Songs). Yet each piece of this song cycle is unique. Over the course of seven songs, you get seven different flavors, stories, aspects, and emotions. I love the lack of self-con-sciousness in this group of songs – they manage to be absolutely grand while being nonchalant about their grandeur. The gypsy doesn’t care about being grand; the gypsy just wanders and sees and experiences and lives in the present.

My favorite song from Dvořák’s Cigánské melodie is No. 3. It speaks of heartache with the tenderest voice. The fragile stillness of the piano mirrors the text’s imagery of tears drying on your face, running black down your cheeks due to the smoke from the campfire staining them. The vocal line care-fully balances pristine, shimmering beauty and heartfelt gravitas. To me, the text is true to the gypsy: “Don’t get too upset by heart-ache. He who can sing amid sorrow does not die; he lives!”

Romantic-era drama and lavishness weaves throughout Sibelius’s songs, but the texts are still so real and heartbreaking. The com-poser’s settings brilliantly serve their tone. A fantastic example of his musical storytelling is his compact two-page song “Marssnön.” It sounds to me like a midwinter snowscape; the music illustrates the exquisite silence you would get if you were standing alone in the snow in the middle of a quiet countryside. However, even as you sense the snowflakes gently falling to create waves of snow on the cold ground, Sibelius opens up both the piano and the vocal lines, and you can envision the impending springtime bloom-ing forth, the sun coming to melt away the cold. In only two pages, the song shows an incredible range, from the simple to the magnificent.

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Similarly multifaceted, Mahler has incredible folk roots in his music, yet he manages to be ethereal while absolutely grounded in na-ture. “Ich ging mit lust” is a new favorite of mine. It is a gorgeous song with arching lines, and you can hear the wild birds singing in the piano line. To me, it sounds like some-thing you might spontaneously sing while you’re walking through the forest. But at the same time, because it’s Mahler, the serenity is elevated to otherworldly heights.

While “Ich ging mit lust” is one of the new-est songs to me, the song on this album I’ve lived with the longest is “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen.” Since the first time I heard it, it has entranced me. I think this is one of the most perfectly written songs I know. As a listener, I’ve always felt that Mahler ’s setting of Friedrich Rückert’s text sounds as if the singer is just at the edge of the gossamer border that separates life from heaven, curiously reaching forward. People seem to be torn about the meaning of the text, yet I felt a very strong pull toward my particular interpretation from the first time I sat down with the music. I’ve known a lot of people who consider this a sad song in which a person is singing of his or her own death, feeling ready to let go of all earthly tethers. However, I think it’s a transcendent song. To me, it speaks of releasing your wor-ries and, in that way, it’s a song of no regrets, of pure contentedness. I’ve never felt that

one need wait for the end of one’s life to find that satisfaction, and so I connect with this song in my own life’s journey to finding the happy quiet space within myself.

Despite their diverse origins, this collection of songs represents thoughts and feelings that can be both universal and deeply per-sonal. We experience shy moments of love like Mahler ’s “Blicke mir”; we hear of hor-rific stories similar to what is told in Sibelius’s “Säv, säv, susa”; we hear tunes that remind us of the music we heard in our homes when we were growing up, just like the gypsy does in Dvořák’s “Když mne stará matka zpívat, zpívat učívala”; we look up at the sky and wonder if anything is out there, just as the speaker does in Mahler ’s “Um Mitternacht.” These songs echo hu-man experiences, showing the fullness of our lives through moments that are often simultaneously raw and alluring, and always fascinating.

– Jamie Barton

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Gustav Mahler: Fünf Lieder nach Rückert (Five Rückert Songs) (Texts: Friedrich Rückert)

Ich atmet’ einen linden Duft

Ich atmet’ einen linden Duft.Im Zimmer stand Ein Zweig der Linde,Ein Angebinde von lieber Hand;Wie lieblich war der Lindenduft!Wie lieblich ist der Lindenduft!Das Lindenreis Brachst du gelinde;Ich atme leis Im Duft der LindeDer Liebe linden Duft.

I breathed a gentle fragrance

I breathed a gentle fragrance!In the room stoodA spray of lime,A gift from a dear hand;How lovely the fragrance of lime was!How lovely the fragrance of lime is!The spray of limeWas gently plucked by you!Softly I breathe In the fragrance of limeThe gentle fragrance of love.

Liebst du um Schönheit

Liebst du um Schönheit,O nicht mich liebe!Liebe die Sonne,Sie trägt ein goldnes Haar!Liebst du um Jugend,O nicht mich liebe!Liebe den Frühling,Der jung ist jedes Jahr!Liebst du um Schätze,O nicht mich liebe!Liebe die Meerfrau,Sie hat viel Perlen klar!Liebst du um Liebe,O ja mich liebe!Liebe mich immer,Dich lieb’ ich immerdar.

If you love for beauty

If you love for beauty, O love not me!Love the sun, She has golden hair!If you love for youth, O love not me!Love the spring Which is young each year!If you love for riches, O love not me!Love the mermaid Who has many shining pearls!If you love for love,

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Ah yes, love me!Love me always, I shall love you ever more!

Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder!

Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder!Meine Augen schlag’ ich nieder,Wie ertappt auf böser Tat;Selber darf ich nicht getrauen,Ihrem Wachsen zuzuschauen:Deine Neugier ist Verrat!

Bienen, wenn sie Zellen bauen,Lassen auch nicht zu sich schauen,Schauen selbst auch nicht zu.Wenn die reichen HonigwabenSie zu Tag befördert haben,Dann vor allen nasche du!

Do not look into my songs!

Do not look into my songs!I lower my gaze,As if caught in the act;I cannot even trust myselfTo watch them growing:Your curiosity is treason!Bees, when they build cells,Let no one watch either,And do not even watch themselves.When the rich honeycombsHave been brought to daylight,You shall be the first to taste!

Um Mitternacht

Um Mitternacht hab’ ich gewachtUnd aufgeblickt zum Himmel; Kein Stern vom SterngewimmelHat mir gelacht um Mitternacht.Um Mitternacht hab’ ich gedachtHinaus in dunkle Schranken; Es hat kein LichtgedankenMir Trost gebracht um Mitternacht.Um Mitternacht nahm ich in achtDie Schläge meines Herzens; Ein einz’ger Puls des SchmerzensWar angefacht um Mitternacht.Um Mitternacht kämpft’ ich die Schlacht,O Menschheit, deiner Leiden; Nicht konnt’ ich sie entscheidenMit meiner Macht um Mitternacht.Um Mitternacht hab’ ich die MachtIn deine Hand gegeben: Herr über Tod und Leben,Du hältst die Wacht um Mitternacht!

At midnight

At midnight I kept watchAnd looked up to heaven; Not a star in the galaxySmiled on me at midnight.At midnight my thoughts went outTo the dark reaches of space; No shining thoughtBrought me comfort at midnight.At midnight I paid heed

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To the beating of my heart; A single pulse of painWas set alight at midnight.At midnight I fought the fight,O Mankind, of your afflictions; I could not gain victoryBy my own strength at midnight.At midnight I gave my strengthInto Thy hands: Lord over life and death,Thou keepest watch at midnight.

Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen

Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen,Mit der ich sonst viele Zeit verdorben.Sie hat so lange nichts von mir vernommen,Sie mag wohl glauben, ich sei gestorben.Es ist mir auch gar nichts daran gelegen,Ob sie mich für gestorben hält.Ich kann auch gar nichts sagen dagegen,Denn wirklich bin ich gestorben der Welt.Ich bin gestorben dem Weltgetümmel,Und ruh’ in einem stillen Gebiet.Ich leb’ allein in meinem Himmel,In meinem Lieben, in meinem Lied

I am lost to the world

I am lost to the worldWith which I used to waste much time;It has for so long heard nothing of me,It may well believe I am dead.Nor am I at all concernedIf it should think me dead.

Nor can I deny it,For truly I am dead to the world.I am dead to the world’s tumultAnd rest in a quiet realm.I live alone in my heaven,In my loving, in my song.

Ich ging mit Lust durch einen grünen Wald (Anonymous)

Ich ging mit Lust durch einen grünen Wald,Ich hört die Vöglein singen.Sie sangen so jung, sie sangen so alt,Die kleinen Waldvögelein im grünen Wald!Wie gern hört ich sie singen, ja singen!

Nun sing, nun sing, Frau Nachtigall!Sing du’s bei meinem Feinsliebchen:‘Komm schier, komm schier, wenns finster ist,Wenn niemand auf der Gasse ist, Dann komm zu mir, dann komm zu mir! Herein will ich dich lassen, ja lassen!’

Der Tag verging, die Nacht brach an,Er kam zu Feinsliebchen gegangen;Er klopft so leis’ wohl an den Ring,“Ei, schläfst du oder wachst, mein Kind?Ich hab so lang gestanden!”

Es schaut der Mond durchs FensterleinZum holden, süßen Lieben,Die Nachtigall sang die ganze Nacht.Du schlafselig Mägdelein, nimm dich in Acht!Wo ist dein Herzliebster geblieben?

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I walked joyfully though a green wood

I walked joyfully through a green wood,I heard the little birds sing.They sang so young, they sang so old,Those little wood birds in the green wood!How gladly I heard them sing, yes sing!

Please sing, please sing, Mrs Nightingale,Sing this at my beloved’s house:“Come quick, come quick, when darkness falls,When not a soul is in the street,Then come to me, then come to me!And I will let you in, yes in.”

The day departed, night fell,He went to his beloved;He taps so softly with the knocker,“Are you asleep or awake, my child?I’ve been standing here so long!”

The moon looked through the window,Saw the charming, sweet caresses,The nightingale sang all night long.Sleepy little maid, take care!Where is your sweetheart now?

Erinnerung (Text: Richard Leander)

Es wecket meine LiebeDie Lieder immer wieder!Es wecken meine Lieder

Die Liebe immer wieder!Die Lippen, die da träumenVon deinen heißen Küssen,In Sang und LiedesweisenVon dir sie tönen müssen!

Und wollen die GedankenDer Liebe sich entschlagen,So kommen meine LiederZu mir mit Liebesklagen!

So halten mich in BandenDie Beiden immer wieder!Es weckt das Lied die Liebe!Die Liebe weckt die Lieder!

Recollection

My love inspires songsAgain and again!My songs inspire loveAgain and again!

The lips that dreamOf your ardent kissesMust sing of youIn melody and song!

And if my thoughtsSeek to banish love,My songs return,Lamenting love!So both hold me captive

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Again and again:Songs inspire love,Love inspires songs! Scheiden und Meiden (Anonymous)

Es ritten drei Reiter zum Tore hinaus!Ade!Fein’s Liebchen, das schaute zum Fenster hinaus,Ade! Und wenn es denn soll geschieden sein,So reich mir dein goldenes Ringelein,Ade! Ade!Ja, Scheiden und Meiden tut weh, tut weh!

Es scheidet das Kind schon in der Wieg!Ade! Wann werd ich mein Schätzel wohl kriegen?Ade!Und ist es nicht morgen, ach, wär es doch heut,Es machte uns Beiden wohl grosse Freud,Ade! Ade! Ade!Ja, Scheiden und Meiden tut weh.

Parting and farewell Three horsemen rode out through the gate!Farewell!The beloved looked out of the window,Farewell! And if it’s time for us to part,Then give me your little golden ring,

Farewell! Farewell!Yes, parting and farewell bring pain!

The child departs in the cradle even!Farewell!When shall my loved one at last be mine?Farewell!And if it be not tomorrow, ah, were it today,That would give us both such joy! Farewell! Farewell! Farewell!Yes, parting and farewell bring pain!

Translations by Richard Stokes from The Book of Lieder (Faber and Faber, 2005)

Antonín DvořAk: Cigánské melodie (Gypsy Songs)(Texts: Adolf Heyduk)

Má píseň zas mi láskou zní

Má píseň zas mi láskou zní,když starý den umirá;a chudý mech kdy na šat svůjsi tajně perle sbíra.

Má píseň v kraj tak toužně zní,když svetem noha bloudí;jen rodné pusty dálinouzpěv volně z ňader proudí.

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Má píseň hlučně láskou zní,když bouře běží plání;když těším se, že bídy prostdlí bratr v umírání.

My song of love rings out again

My song of love rings out again,When the old day is dying;And lowly moss for its garment Is secretly gathering dew-pearls.

My song rings out so wistfully,When through the world I’m roaming;Only through the vastness of my native plainsDoes my song flow freely from my breast.

My song rings out so loud with love,When storms race over the plains;Rejoicing when, from misery,A brother’s dying saves him!

Aj! Kterak trojhranec můj přerozkošně zvoní

Aj! Kterak trojhranec můj přerozkošně zvoní,jak cigána píseň, když se k smrti kloní!Když se k smrti kloní, trojhran mu vyzvání.Konec písni, tanci, lásce, bědování.Konec písni, tanci, lásce, bědování.

Ah! How most delightfully my triangle rings

Ah! How most delightfully my triangle rings,Like the song of a Gypsy when he bends toward death!When he bends toward death, his triangle rings for him.No more songs and dances, no more love or lamenting!No more songs and dances, no more love or lamenting!

A les je tichý kolem kol

A les je tichý kolem kol,jen srdce mír ten ruší,a černý kouř, jenž spěchá v dol,mé slze v lících, mé slze suší.

Však nemusí jich usušit,necht’ v jiné tváře bije.Kdo v smutku může zazpívat,ten nezhynul, ten žije, ten žije!

All around me the forest is quiet

All around me the forest is quiet, Only my heart disturbs the peace. And the black smoke coming quickly downDries the tears on my cheeks, The tears on my cheeks.

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However, there is no need to dry my tears,Let it blow on other cheeks. He who can sing amid sorrowHas not died; he lives, he lives!

Když mne stará matka zpívat, zpívat učívala

Když mne stará matka zpívat, zpívat učívala,podivno, že často, často slzívala.A ted’ také pláčem snědé líce mučim,když cigánské děti hrát a zpívat učim!

When my old mother taught me singing

When my old mother taught me singing, Strange, that she often, often cried.And now tears too torment my dark cheeks, As I teach Gypsy children to play music and sing!

Struna naladěna

Struna naladěna,hochu, toč se v kole,dnes, snad dnes převysoko,zejtra, zejtra, zejtra zase dole!

Pozejtří u Nilu za posvátným stolem;struna již, struna naladěna,hochu, toč, hochu, toč se kolem!

The strings are tuned

The strings are tuned –Young man, join the dance;Today perhaps we soar up high,Tomorrow, tomorrow down again!

The day after tomorrowAt the sacred table by the Nile;The strings are already tuned,Young man, join the dance!

Široké rukávy a široké gatě

Široké rukávy a široké gatěvolnější cigánu nežli dolman v zlatě.Dolman a to zlato bujná prsa svírá;pod ním volná píseň násilně umírá.A kdo raduješ se, tvá kdy píseň v květě,přej si, aby zašlo zlato v celém světě!

Wide sleeves and wide trousers

Wide sleeves and wide trousersGive the Gypsy more freedom than a golden robe.A golden robe constricts the powerful chest;Beneath it our free song dies a violent death. And you who rejoice, when your song blooms free,Wish that all gold in the world cease to be.

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Dejte klec jestřábu ze zlata ryzého

Dejte klec jestřábu ze zlata ryzého;nezmění on za ni hnízda trněného.Komoni bujnému, jenž se pustou žene,zřídka kdy připnete uzdy a třemene.A tak i cigánu příroda cos dala:k volnosti ho věčným poutem, k volnosti ho upoutala.

Give a hawk a golden cage

Give a hawk a golden cage; It will not choose it over a thorny nest.Just as a wild colt charging through the plainsCan hardly be put into reins and stirrups. And so also to the Gypsy did nature give something:To freedom with an eternal bond,To freedom did it bind him.

Translations: Véronique Firkusny

Jean sibelius: Songs

Svarta rosor(Text: Ernst Josephson)

Säg, varför är du så ledsen i dag,du, som alltid är så lustig och glad?Och inte är jag mera ledsen i dagän när jag tyckes dig lustig och glad;ty sorgen har nattsvarta rosor.

I mitt hjärta där växer ett rosendeträd, som aldrig nånsin vill lämna mig fred, och på stjälkarna sitter det tagg vid tagg, och det vållar mig ständigt sveda och agg;ty sorgen har nattsvarta rosor.

Men av rosor blir det en hel klenod,än vita som döden, än röda som blod.Det växer och växer. Jag tror jag förgår, i hjärträdets rötter det ryckeroch slår; ty sorgen har nattsvarta rosor.

Black Roses

Tell me, why are you so sad today when you are always so cheerful and gay? But I am no more sad today than when you think me cheerful and gay for grief has night black roses. In my heart there grows a rose-tree which will never allow me peace: on its stems grow thorn upon thorn and it causes unceasing rancor and pain for grief has night black rosesBut of the roses it becomes quite a treasure, white as death, red as blood. It grows and grows. I think I will perish: in my heart-tree’s roots there is a wrenching and throbbing for grief has night black roses.

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Säv, säv, susa (Text: Gustaf Fröding)

Säv, säv, susavåg, våg, slå,I sägen mig var Ingalillden unga månde gå?

Hon skrek som en vingskjuten and,när hon sjönk i sjön,det var när sista var stod grön.

De voro henne gramse vid Östanålid, det tog hon sig så illa vid.

De voro henne gramse för gods och gull och för hennes unga kärleks skull.

De stucko en ögonsten med tagg,de kastade smuts i en liljas dagg.

Så sjungen, sjungen sorgsång,I sorgsna vågor små,säv, säv, susa,våg, våg, slå!

Rushes, rushes, murmur

Rushes, rushes, murmurwave, wave, crash Are you trying to reveal the fate of young Ingalil?

She cried like a winged duck as she sank in the lake (last spring was then at its greenest).

They were envious of her in Östanålid and she took it to heart.

They begrudged her her riches and her young love.

They pierced a jewel with a thorn, they cast dirt in a lily’s dew.

So sing your dirge, sad wavelets, rushes, rushes, murmur, waves, waves crash!

Flickan kom ifrån sin älsklings mote (Text: Johan Ludvig Runeberg)

Flickan kom ifrån sin älsklings möte,Kom med röda händer -- Modern sade: Varav rodna dina händer, flicka?Flickan sade: jag har plockat rosor,Och på törnen stungit mina händer.Åter kom hon från sin älsklings möte,Kom med röda läppar -- Modern sade: Varav rodna dina läppar, flicka?Flickan sade: jag har ätit hallon,Och med saften målat mina läppar.Åter kom hon från sin älsklings möte,Kom med bleka kinder -- Modern sade: Varav blekna dina kinder, flicka?Flickan sade: red en grav, o Moder!

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Göm mig där, och ställ et kors däröver, Och på korset rista, som jag säger: En gång kom hon hem med röda händer;Ty de rodnat mellan älskarns händer. En gång kom hon hem med röda läppar;Ty de rodnat under älskarns läppar.Senast kom hon hem med bleka kinder;Ty de bleknat genom älskarns otro.

The Girl Returned from Meeting Her Lover

The girl returned from meeting her lover,came back with red hands – Her mother asked:Why are your hands so red, my child?The girl replied: I have been plucking rosesand pricked my hands on the thorns.Again she returned from meeting her lover,came back with red lips – Her mother asked:Why are your lips so red, my child?The girl replied: I have been eating raspberriesand stained my lips with the juice.Again she returned from meeting her lover,came back with pale cheeks – Her mother asked:Why are your cheeks so pale, my child?The girl replied: Prepare a grave, mother!Hide me there and set up a crossand on the cross carve these words:Once she came home with red handsfor they had turned red between her lover’s hands.

Once she came home with red lipsfor they had turned red beneath her lover’s lips.The last time she came home with pale cheeksfor they had turned pale at her lover’s unfaithfulness.

Kyssens hopp(Text: Johan Ludvig Runeberg)

Der jag satt i drömmar vid en källa,Hörde jag en kyss på mina läpparSakta tala till en annan detta: Se, hon kommer, se, se,den blyga flickan kommer redan; Inom några stunder sitter jag På hennes rosen läppar, Och hon bär mig troget hela dagen,Näns ej smaku på ett enda smultron,Att ej blanda mig med smultron saften,Näns ej dricka ur den klara källan,Att ej krossa mig mot glasets bräddar,Näns ej hviska ens ett ord om kärlek,Att ej fläkta mig från rosen läppen.

The Kiss’s Hope

There where I sat dreaming by a spring,I heard a kiss on my lipsslowly speaking to another thus:See, she comes, see, see,the shy girl is coming already;

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In a few moments I sit on her rosy lips,And she carries me faithfully the whole day,Not even tasting a single wild strawberry,to not mix me with the wild strawberry juice,Not even drinking from the clear spring,to not crush me against the overflowing glass,Not whispering even a single word about love,to not blow me away from her rosy lips.

Marssnön (Text: Josef Julius Wecksell)

Den svala snön därute falleroch täcker marken mer och mer,de lägga sig de vita stjärnor i varv på varv längs jorden ner.

Håll slutet än, o vår! ditt öga,sov gott i blid och vänlig snö -dess mäktigare skall du blomma,dess rikare skall sen du dö.

March Snow

Cool snow falls outside,And covers the earth ever more thicklyWith layer upon layer of white stars.

Keep your eyes shut, O spring;Go on sleeping in the gentle, friendly snow.

You will blossom all the more strongly,And die the richer.

Var det en dröm?(Text: Josef Julius Wecksell)

Var det en dröm att ljuvt engångjag var ditt hjärtas vän?Jag minns det som en tystnad sång,då strängen darrar än.

Jag minns en törnros av dig skänkt,en blick så blyg och öm;

jag minns en avskedstår, som blänkt,var allt, var allt en dröm?

En dröm lik sippans liv så kortuti en vårgrön ängd,

vars fägring hastigt vissnar bortför nya blommors mängd.

Men mången natt jag hör en röstvid bittra tårars ström:

göm djupt dess minne i ditt bröst,det var din bästa dröm!

Did I Just Dream?

Did I just dream that long agoI was your soulmate?

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I remember it like a song that is overthough the string still vibrates.

I remember a rose you gave me,a glance so shy and tender,

a tear that glistened at partingwas all this just a dream?

A dream as brief as an anemone’s lifein a green spring meadow,

whose beauty quickly fadesbefore the wealth of new flowers.

But many a night I hear a voiceover a flood of bitter tears:

hide this memory deep in your breastit was the best dream you ever had!

Translations: Jean-Paul Bjorlin

Hailed as “a fresh wonder of the opera world, possessing a voice of preternatural beauty and power” (Alex Ross, The Rest Is Noise), Jamie Barton has quickly risen to become one of the most in-demand mezzo-sopra-nos on the international stage. Since winning the Metropolitan Opera National Council Awards in 2007, she has garnered numerous honors and acclaimed appearances, includ-

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ing a Grammy Award nomination in 2011, the BBC Cardiff Singer of the World Main Prize and Song Prize in 2013, and the Rich-ard Tucker Award in 2015.

Her opera roles have included Adalgisa in Norma at the Metropolitan Opera, San Fran-cisco Opera, and Los Angeles Opera; Fene-na in Nabucco at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden and Seattle Opera; Giovanna Seymour in Anna Bolena at the Metropolitan Opera and Lyric Opera of Chicago; and Fric-ka in Das Rheingold and Die Walküre with Washington National Opera.

Barton is equally at home in concert, where she has been praised for her “exquisite com-municative gift” (Joshua Kosman, San Fran-cisco Chronicle). Recital engagements in-clude a tour with Bradley Moore to Carnegie Hall, Oper Frankfurt, and Music Worcester and concerts with the Tucson Desert Song Festival, Toronto Summer Music Festival, Vocal Arts DC, and The Queen’s Hall. With orchestra, she has appeared as a soloist in Verdi’s Requiem, Brahms’ Alto Rhapsody, and Mahler’s Symphony No. 3.

Additional career highlights have been per-formances on the 80th birthday galas of Sherrill Milnes and Marilyn Horne, singing Mère Marie in Dialogues of the Carmelites opposite Felicity Palmer at the Bayerische Staatsoper, singing Julia Child in Lee Hoiby’s

Bon Appetit! under the direction of Ned Canty, and appearing in the documentary The Audition.

A graduate of the Houston Grand Opera Studio, Barton attended Indiana University in Bloomington. She lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her cat, River.

www.jamiebartonmezzo.com

Widely recognized as one of today’s lead-ing collaborative pianists, Brian Zeger has performed with many of the world’s greatest singers, including Marilyn Horne, Deborah Voigt, Anna Netrebko, Susan Graham, René Pape, Dame Kiri Te Kanawa, Frederica von Stade, Piotr Beczala, Bryn Terfel, Joyce Di-Donato, Denyce Graves, and Adrianne Piec-zonka in an extensive concert career that has taken him to the premiere concert halls throughout the United States and abroad. Among his most recent recordings are Pre-ludios - Spanish songs with Isabel Leonard; a recording of Strauss and Wagner lieder with Adrianne Pieczonka; and Dear Theo: 3 Song Cycles by Ben Moore with Paul Appleby, Su-sanna Phillips, and Brett Polegato, all for the Delos label.

Also active as a chamber musician, he has been a regular guest at many festivals in-

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cluding the Bard Music Festival, the Cape Cod Chamber Music Festival, and the Frankly Music series in Milwaukee, and has enjoyed collaborations with the Jupiter String Quar-tet, Borromeo and Brentano Quartets, An die Musik, and the New York Philharmonic Chamber Ensembles. He also serves as both pianist and curator for the Juilliard Songfest series and an ongoing collaborative series with the Metropolitan Museum of Art.In addition to his distinguished concert ca-reer, he serves as Artistic Director of the Marcus Institute for Vocal Arts at The Juil-liard School. In addition, for eight years he served as the Executive Director of the Met-ropolitan Opera Lindemann Young Artists Development Program and also previously served as director of the program for singers at the Steans Music Institute at the Ravinia Festival.

He has made concerto appearances with the Boston Pops, multiple concert appear-ances at the White House and United States Supreme Court, and appeared with Debo-rah Voigt and Frederica von Stade on the telecast of the Metropolitan Opera’s Gala saluting Joseph Volpe.

www.brianzeger.com

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I want to thank the following people who have made this album happen: Brian Zeger and Adam Abeshouse, you two are extraordinary collaborators; to Team JBMS, Michael Benche-trit, Beth Stewart, John Primavera, and Jean Goffaux; to Becca Fay, Joe Beutel, Sarah Stark, Jessica Jahn, Rachel Townsend, Thomas Ourada, and Hyde Clarke, who made these photos happen; my beloved voice teachers, Dr. Brian Horne, Mary Ann Hart, and Stephen King... thank you for guiding and teaching me; and last but not least, to Mom, Phil, Dad, Jean, and everyone who has rooted me on from day one. This exists because you cared.

This album is dedicated to Tom, Carolyn, Agnes, Judge, and Francis. Thank you for passing the love of music on to me.

– Jamie Barton

Recording made at SUNY Purchase, August 2015

Producer: Adam AbeshouseExecutive Producer: Carol RosenbergerEngineering: Adam AbeshouseEditing, mixing and mastering: Adam AbeshouseAssistant Engineer: David SlitzkyBooklet Editors: Lindsay Koob, Anne MaleyGraphic Design & Layout: Lonnie Kunkel

Photography: Fay Fox, Jamie Barton photosJared Slater: photo of Brian Zeger

Piano: Purchase Steinway Concert Grand # 134

© 2016 Delos Productions, Inc., P.O. Box 343, Sonoma, CA 95476-9998(707) 996-3844 • Fax (707) 320-0600 • (800) 364-0645

contactus@delosmusic.com • www.delosmusic.comMade in USA

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