Friday 14th November | 7:30pm
Holy Sepulchre London​​
​
Programme
Welcome somer: Don Macdonald (b.1966)
Í
Moonset: Don Macdonald (b.1966)
Dolce cantavi: Caroline Shaw (b.1982)
Í
Sicut lilium: attrib. Leonora d’Este (1515-75)
Holi: Shivani Rattan (b.1998)
There is no rose: English 15th century
Canto a Eleggua: Yoruban trad. arr Arlety Valdés & Yudelkis Lafuente
Í
O cruor sanguinis: Hildegard of Bingen (ca.1098-1179)
This woman’s work: Kate Bush (b.1958) arr. Jim Clements
Í
Eine kleine Frist: Herman van Veen (b1945) arr. Wishful Singing
Tomorrow is today: Janet Wheeler (b.1957)
--INTERVAL (20 minutes)--
Gallant weaver: James MacMillan (b.1959) arr. Sarah Tenant-Flowers
Í
Si ch’io vorrei morire: Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643) arr. Sarah Tenant-Flowers
Kaval sviri: Trad Bulgarian arr. Petar Lyondev
Oy khodyt son: Ukrainian trad arr. Sarah Tenant-Flowers
Í
Music for a while: Henry Purcell (1659 – 1695) arr. Gunnar Eriksson
Í
Who knows where the time goes: Sandy Denny (1947-78) arr. Suzzie Vango
Order & Chaos: Lady Maisery
Í
I courted a sailor: Kate Rusby (b.1973) arr. Suzzie Vango
TEXT TRANSLATIONS
​
WELCOME SOMER
Welcome summer, with soft sunshine breaking winter’s storm and driving away the long night’s blackness.
St. Valentine, throned on high, will, with good cause, be heralded by little birds each finding its own true love, and singing with carefree joy.
DOLCE CANTAVI
Lovely little bird who, among these shady branches, used to sing so sweetly to mitigate my sorrows, a great desire comes to my heart to hear you again, to make my days complete in their joy.
Come, and bring with you the most famous singers that the forest nurtures in its breast, for you will have the pleasure of these fair waters and be hidden away from the heat of the summer day.
The little wood awaits you, and the lovely garden where, among the leaves, the ripples and the breeze compete in their murmuring beside me.
We will rise together before sunrise: I will herald the dawn with the Muses,
And you with your warbling divine.
SICUT LILIUM
As a lily among the thorns, so my beloved, in her beauty, stands out from among the daughters.
HOLI
Holi has come! Make rangoli patterns, spray water on everyone! Holi has come! Green, yellow, pink. [Celebrate] soulmates Radha and Krishna and their divine love. Holi, full moon of the night.
CANTO A ELEGGUA
Bara Láaréye, accept our sacrifice. We are your children. Do not be the last of the initiates. Bara, lead! [You all] chant it. Ѐsù Òdàrà.
So shall it be. I pay homage to the deity Elégbára, to the earth. Chant it!
O CRUOR SANGUINIS
O stream of blood which cried out to the heavens, when every element entwined itself within a voice of woe with trembling sorrow, for their Creator’s blood had spotted them,
anoint us against our fragilities.
EINE KLEINE FRIST
Time ticks for you for a pre-ordained length,
ticking the sharpness out of discord,
ticking you here and there.
Time ticks the folds onto the furrows,
ticks many schemes out of your mind,
ticks for you sorely and cynically.
Time ticks your life quickly by,
ticks steadily, then ticks freely,
and the cock crows “Good Morning!”
Time smooths over rough edges,
it ticks you into recovery, and
it ticks the thorns from the roses.
Time ticks lies into truth,
it ticks what is cloudy clear,
and makes the stupid seem cleverer.
Time ticks the sun onto the world
and when that plummets,
so time itself breaks!
GALLANT WEAVER
Where Cart rins rowin to the sea
By mony a flow’r and spreading tree,
There lives a lad, the lad for me,
He is a gallant weaver.
Oh I had woes aught or nine,
They gied me rings and ribbons fine,
And I was feared my heart would tine,
And I gied it to the weaver.
My daddie sign’d my tocher-band,
To gie the lad that has the land,
But to my heart I’ll add my hand,
And give it to the weaver.
While birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
While bees delight in op’ning flowers,
While corn grows green in simmer showers,
I love my gallant weaver.
SI CH’IO VORREI MORIRE
I would gladly die as I kiss the luscious lips of my beloved. Ah, dear sweet tongue, feed me so sweetly that I expire from delight! Ah, love of my life, clasp me to this white breast till my senses reel. Ah mouth, kisses, tongue, again I say: I could gladly die.
KAVAL SVIRI
The kaval (flute) is playing, mother, up and down below the village, mother. I’ll go to see and hear it. If it’s a guy from our village then I’ll love him from dawn to dusk. If it’s a stranger I’ll love him always.
OY KHODYT SON
Dream passes by the window and Sleep by the fence. “Where shall we stay tonight?” they ask.
Over there, where the cottage is warm and the child is tiny. May the cat purr and the child fall asleep easily.
PAPAGENA
Sopranos: Elizabeth Drury, Imogen Ram-Prasad, Suzzie Vango
Mezzo: Shivani Rattan
Alto: Sarah Tenant-Flowers
Papagena explores music written for women’s voices in programmes which juggle folk, medieval, classical and contemporary works with new commissions and the group’s own compositions and arrangements.
Formed in 2015, Papagena has performed at numerous festivals including Edinburgh, Ryedale and the Three Choirs, collaborated in Birmingham and Stratford with The Orchestra of the Swan, broadcast live for BBC Radio 3 and 4 and Classic FM, and has recorded 3 CDs including Hush! and The Darkest Midnight, both released by SOMM Recordings.
Future projects include concerts in the Netherlands and around the UK, the release of the group’s fourth album Tomorrow is Today on the SOMM label in April and the world premiere of PASSIA, its latest commission, next March. To support the commission costs of this ambitious new work, which is scored for Papagena and upper voice choir and will reimagine the Passion story from the perspective of five of the women at the foot of the cross, please donate here.
​