Delicacies from a World of Music

 

À la carte is a concert series – now in our sixth season! – in Greensboro, North Carolina.  À la carte concerts are free and open to a public. We welcome a wide-ranging, diverse audience, from the music aficionado to the merely curious. Tired of same-old, same-old concert going? Hungry for something different? Try À la carte!

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Featured concert

Durham Concert

À la carte debuts in Durham! 

 

À la carte presents its first concert in Durham on Sunday, March 26, 2023 5:30 p.m.

North Carolina Central University in the Music Department Recital Hall

507 Lawson St., Durham, NC (follow the sandwich board signs!)

Program:

Spring Concert

Sunday, March 26, 2023 5:30 p.m.

The Ciompi String Quartet

Carla Copeland-Burns, flute

Rachel Niketopoulos, horn

James Douglass, piano

Erik Alexander, percussion

Melody Tzang, harp

Clara O’Brien, mezzo-soprano

 

Program:

Chansons di Bilitis          Claude Debussy (1862 – 1918)

  1. la flûte de Pan        (arr. Hulme)
  2. la chevelure
  3. le tombeau des Naiades

Sidelines (Reflections on Two American Sports)       Anthony Kelley

          Movement I: Basketball (Variations on the Jump)     (b. 1965)

          Movement II: Baseball (A Ragtime Fugue)

Sunrise                             Charles Ives (1874 – 1954)

Slapdash Seule               Lance Hulme (b. 1960)

Intermezzo,Op. 118, no. 2                                         Johannes Brahms (1833 – 1897)

String Quartet No. 13 “Tod und das Mädchen”     Franz Schubert (1797 – 1828)  

     2. Andante con moto

 

 

 

Ciompi String Quartet

Eric Pritchard, Violin

Hsiao-Mei Ku, Violin

Jonathan Bagg, Viola

Caroline Stinson, Cello

www.Ciompi.org

 

 

 

 

Carla Copeland-Burns

www.carlacopelandburns.com

Rachel Niketopoulos

James Douglass

Erik Schmidt

Clara O’Brien

www.claraobrien.com

 

Texts

La flûte de Pan

Pour le jour des Hyacinthies, il m’a donné une syrinx
faite de roseaux bien taillés, unis avec la blanche cire
qui est douce à mes lèvres comme le miel.
Il m’apprend à jouer, assise sur ses genoux; mais je
suis un peu tremblante. Il en joue après moi, si
doucement que je l’entends à peine.
Nous n’avons rien à nous dire, tant nous sommes
près l’un de l’autre; mais nos chansons veulent se
répondre, et tour à tour nos bouches s’unissent sur la flûte.
Il est tard; voici le chant des grenouilles vertes qui
commence avec la nuit. Ma mère ne croira jamais que
je suis restée si longtemps à chercher ma ceinture perdue.

 

The flute of Pan

For Hyacinthus day he gave me a syrinx made of
carefully cut reeds, bonded with white wax which tastes
sweet to my lips like honey.
He teaches me to play, as I sit on his lap; but I am
a little fearful. He plays it after me, so gently that I
scarcely hear him.
We have nothing to say, so close are we one to
another, but our songs try to answer each other, and
our mouths join in turn on the flute.
It is late; here is the song of the green frogs that
begins with the night. My mother will never believe
I stayed out so long to look for my lost sash.

 

La chevelure

Il m’a dit: «Cette nuit, j’ai rêvé. J’avais ta chevelure
autour de mon cou. J’avais tes cheveux comme un
collier noir autour de ma nuque et sur ma poitrine.
«Je les caressais, et c’étaient les miens; et nous
étions liés pour toujours ainsi, par la même chevelure
la bouche sur la bouche, ainsi que deux lauriers n’ont
souvent qu’une racine.
«Et peu à peu, il m’a semblé, tant nos membres
étaient confondus, que je devenais toi-même ou que
tu entrais en moi comme mon songe.»
Quand il eut achevé, il mit doucement ses mains sur
mes épaules, et il me regarda d’un regard si tendre,
que je baissai les yeux avec un frisson.

 

The tresses of hair

He said to me: ‘Last night I dreamed. I had your
tresses around my neck. I had your hair like a black
necklace all round my nape and over my breast.
‘I caressed it and it was mine; and we
were united thus for ever by the same tresses,
mouth on mouth, just as two laurels
often share one root.
‘And gradually it seemed to me, so intertwined
were our limbs, that I was becoming you, or you were
entering into me like a dream.’
When he had finished, he gently set his hands on
my shoulders and gazed at me so tenderly that I lowered
my eyes with a shiver.
 

 

Le tombeau des Naiades

Le long du bois couvert de givre, je marchais; mes cheveux
devant ma bouche se fleurissaient de petits glaçons, et
mes sandales étaient lourdes de neige fangeuse et tassée.
Il me dit: «Que cherches-tu?»—«Je suis la trace du satyre.
Ses petits pas fourchus alternent comme des trous dans
un manteau blanc.» Il me dit: «Les satyres sont morts.
«Les satyres et les nymphes aussi. Depuis trente ans il
n’a pas fait un hiver aussi terrible. La trace que tu vois est
celle d’un bouc. Mais restons ici, où est leur tombeau.»
Et avec le fer de sa houe il cassa la glace de la source
où jadis riaient les naïades. Il prenait de grands
morceaux froids, et les soulevant vers le ciel pâle, il
regardait au travers.
 

The tomb of the Naiads

Along the frost-bound wood I walked; my hair across
my mouth, blossomed with tiny icicles, and my
sandals were heavy with muddy, packed snow.
He said to me: ‘What do you seek?’ ‘I follow the satyr’s track.
His little cloven hoof-marks alternate like holes in
a white cloak.’ He said to me: ‘The satyrs are dead.
‘The satyrs and the nymphs too. For thirty years there
has not been so harsh a winter. The tracks you see are those
of a goat. But let us stay here, where their tomb is.’
And with the iron head of his hoe he broke the ice of
the spring, where the naiads used to laugh. He picked up
some huge cold fragments, and, raising them to the pale sky,
gazed through them.