I am at Wolf Trap this week working on a program called “The Art of Pleasure.” Why? Well, for the past eighteen months, I have been assaulted every morning by news of cruelty, greed, shortsightedness, and mendacity unlike anything I can remember. I know others also sense that the world is caving in—how is this being allowed to happen? So I thought: we need to take a moment to meditate on things that give pleasure. It will give us strength. I didn’t actually have any idea how I would make such a program, but once I started working on it the concert started to take on a life of its own, rambunctious and surprising. We start with sweetness and romance, but soon darker and more chaotic pleasures announce themselves, only to yield to the deeper pleasures of spiritual peace. It is, admittedly, a lot to cover in 90 minutes.
The opening section is devoted to songs about the seaside and the sweetness of nature during the warm months. For this theme I turned to two Catalan composers, Eduardo Toldrà and Xavier Montsalvatge. Their best songs are beautiful enough to alleviate anxiety and instill optimism. Here’s “Canço amorosa” by Montsalvatge, one of my very favorite pieces of music. The poem describes a boat ride in August. The music manages to plough forward while luxuriating in languor, a perfect seduction out on a moonlit bay. Montsalvatge’s tangy Gershwin chords never fail to make life seem rosy. Here is a lovely performance by Ana Ibarra and Rubén Fernández.
Cançó amorosa (Love song) [1948]
Music by Xavier Montsalvatge; poem by Tomas Garcés
| Voldría ser mariner i durte a la meva vora; la vela iria pel mar com un cavall blanc que corre, el vent posaria olor de fonoll entre les cordes i l’ona es faria en llà deixant el camí a la proa. Passarien els vaixells Jo els veuria com se’n van, On tu giressis l’esguard |
I would like to be a sailor And have you beside me; The sail would move through the sea Like a white horse that runs, The wind would smell of parsley Between the ropes And the wave would gather over yonder Leaving a path for our prow. Ships would pass by us I would watch them go away Wherever you turn your glance |
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