Vocal Works

Brian Field composer

Release Date: August 13, 2021
Catalog #: NV6360
Format: Digital
21st Century
Vocal Music
Choir
Orchestra

Throughout his ever-evolving career, Brian Field has penned music for everything from orchestra and chamber settings to ballet and television, sprinkling in influences of post-romanticism, minimalism, and jazz. On his album VOCAL WORKS on Navona Records, the human voice takes center stage, and Field doesn’t shy away from his brand of compositional diversity. Field brings six pieces springing from the page, including a traditional Sephardic lullaby, musical interpretations of Pablo Neruda’s and E. E. Cummings’ poetry, and works with texts written by the composer himself. Throughout the album, the Budapest Chorus conducted by Martón Tóth brings dynamism and emotion to every note.

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Track Listing & Credits

# Title Composer Performer
01 By And By Brian Field Budapest Chorus | Martón Tóth, conductor 3:15
02 Tres Canciones De Amor: I. Plena mujer, manzana carnal… Brian Field Hungarian Symphony Orchestra | Peter Illenyi, conductor; Yanis Benabdallah, tenor 3:28
03 Tres Canciones De Amor: II. Tengo hambre de tu boca… Brian Field Hungarian Symphony Orchestra | Peter Illenyi, conductor; Yanis Benabdallah, tenor 2:25
04 Tres Canciones De Amor: III. Cuando yo muero… Brian Field Hungarian Symphony Orchestra | Peter Illenyi, conductor; Yanis Benabdallah, tenor 3:26
05 Let’s Build A Wall! (An American Satire) Brian Field Hungarian Symphony Orchestra Chamber Players | Peter Illenyi, conductor; Zoli Mujahid, tenor 6:06
06 Sephardic Lullaby Brian Field Hungarian Symphony Orchestra | Peter Illenyi, conductor; Orsi Sapszon, soprano 5:07
07 Let The Light Shine On Me Brian Field Budapest Chorus | Martón Tóth, conductor 4:21
08 Chimneys, Sonnets-Realities: I. the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls Brian Field Edward Whalen, baritone; Veronica Tomanek, piano 2:44
09 Chimneys, Sonnets-Realities: II. goodby Betty,don’t remember me Brian Field Edward Whalen, baritone; Veronica Tomanek, piano 1:54
10 Chimneys, Sonnets-Realities: III. ladies and gentlemen, this little girl Brian Field Edward Whalen, baritone; Veronica Tomanek, piano 2:18
11 Chimneys, Sonnets-Realities: IV. when you rang, at Dick Mid’s Place Brian Field Edward Whalen, baritone; Veronica Tomanek, piano 2:38
12 Chimneys, Sonnets-Realities: V. “kitty”. sixteen, 5’1”, white, prostitute. Brian Field Edward Whalen, baritone; Veronica Tomanek, piano 2:02
13 Chimneys, Sonnets-Realities: VI. when thou hast taken thy last applause Brian Field Edward Whalen, baritone; Veronica Tomanek, piano 4:19

BY AND BY
text by Charles Albert Tindley

TRES CANCIONES DE AMOR
text by Pablo Neruda

LET’S BUILD A WALL! (AN AMERICAN SATIRE)
text by Brian Field

SEPHARDIC LULLABY
text by Sephardic, traditional

LET THE LIGHT SHINE ON ME
text by Brian Field

CHIMNEYS, SONNETS-REALITIES
text by E.E.Cummings

Tracks 1-7 recorded Feb 20, March 2, and Dec 6, 2021 at Dega Studios in Budapest, Hungary
Recording Session Engineer Dénes Rédly

Tracks 8-13 recorded April 29, 1990 in New London CT
Recording Session Engineer James McNeish

Text of Tres Canciones de Amor:
Copyright © 2020, Brian T Field / Olim Music, All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 1959 Pablo Neruda and Fundación Pablo Neruda.
From 100 Love Sonnets by Pablo Neruda, English translations by Stephen Tapscott. Copyright © 1986 by the University of Texas Press. By permission of the publisher.

Text of Chimneys, sonnets-realities from TULIPS & CHIMNEYS by E. E. Cummings, Edited by George James Finnage, are used with the permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation.
Copyright ©1923, 1925 and renewed 1951,1953 by E.E.Cummings.
Copyright ©1973, 1976 by the Trustees for the E. E. Cummings Trust
Copyright ©1973, 1976 by George James Finnage.

General Manager of Audio & Sessions Jan Košulič
Audio Director Lucas Paquette
Mastering Shaun Michaud

Executive Producer Bob Lord
Executive A&R Sam Renshaw
A&R Director Brandon MacNeil

VP, Design & Marketing Brett Picknell
Art Director Ryan Harrison
Design Edward A. Fleming
Publicity Patrick Niland, Sara Warner

Artist Information

Brian Field

Composer

Brian Field’s music is an eclectic fusion of lyricism and driving rhythm that brings together elements of post-romanticism, minimalism, and jazz. He has received a host of awards, including the RMN Classical recording prize; the Benenti Foundation recording prize; the Alvarez Chamber Orchestra Mullord Award; First Prize, Briar Cliff Choral Music Competition; and First Prize, Victor Herbert ASCAP Young Composers’ Contest.

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Notes

text by Charles Albert Tindley

Trials dark on ev’ry hand,
and we cannot understand
All the ways that God would lead us
to that blessed Promised Land;
But He’ll guide us with His eye,
and we’ll follow till we die;
We will understand it better by and by.

Chorus:
By and by, when the morning comes,
When the saints of God are gathered home,
We will tell the story how we’ve overcome;
We will understand it better by and by.

Oft our cherished plans have failed,
disappointments have prevailed,
And we’ve wandered in the darkness,
heavyhearted and alone;
But we’re trusting in the Lord,
and according to His Word,
We will understand it better by and by.

From “When the Morning Comes”
by Charles Albert Tindley (1905), as altered by B.B. McKinney (1933)

I.
Plena mujer, manzana carnal, luna caliente,
espeso aroma de algas, lodo y luz machacados,
qué oscura claridad se abre entre tus columnas?
Qué antigua noche el hombre toca con sus sentidos?

Ay, amar es un viaje con agua y con estrellas,
con aire ahogado y bruscas tempestades de harina:
amar es un combate de relámpagos
y dos cuerpos por una sola miel derrotados.

Beso a beso recorro tu pequeño infinito,
tus márgenes, tus ríos, tus pueblos diminutos,
y el fuego genital transformado en delicia

corre por los delgados caminos de la sangre
hasta precipitarse como un clavel nocturno,
hasta ser y no ser sino un rayo en la sombra.

II.
Tengo hambre de tu boca, de tu voz, de tu pelo
y por las calles voy sin nutrirme, callado,
no me sostiene el pan, el alba me desquicia,
busco el sonido líquido de tus pies en el día.

Estoy hambriento de tu risa resbalada,
de tus manos color de furioso granero,
tengo hambre de la pálida piedra de tus uñas,
quiero comer tu piel como una intacta almendra.

Quiero comer el rayo quemado en tu hermosura,
la nariz soberana del arrogante rostro,
quiero comer la sombra fugaz de tus pestañas

y hambriento vengo y voy olfateando el crepúsculo
buscándote, buscando tu corazón caliente
como un puma en la soledad de Quitratúe.

III.
Cuando yo muero quiero tus manos en mis ojos:
quiero la luz y el trigo de tus manos amadas
pasar una vez más sobre mí su frescura:
sentir la suavidad que cambió mi destino.

Quiero que vivas mientras yo, dormido, te espero,
quiero que tus oídos sigan oyendo el viento,
que huelas el aroma del mar que amamos juntos
y que sigas pisando la arena que pisamos.

Quiero que lo que amo siga vivo
y a ti te amé y canté sobre todas las cosas,
por eso sigue tú floreciendo, florida,

para que alcances todo lo que mi amor te ordena,
para que se pasee mi sombra por tu pelo,
para que así conozcan la razón de mi canto.

translation:

I.
Full woman, flesh-apple, hot moon,
thick smell of seaweed, mud and light in masquerade,
what secret clarity opens through your columns?
What ancient night does a man touch with his senses?

Oh, love is a journey with water and stars,
with drowning air and storms of flour;
love is a clash of lightnings,
two bodies subdued by one honey.

Kiss by kiss I travel your little infinity,
your borders, your rivers, your tiny villages;
 and a genital fire—transformed, delicious—

slips through the narrow roadways of the blood
till it pours itself, quick, like a night carnation, till it is:
and is nothing, in shadow, and a flimmer of light.

II.
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue

III.
When I die, I want your hands on my eyes:
I want the light and wheat of your beloved hands
to pass their freshness over me once more:
I want to feel the softness that changed my destiny.

I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep.
I want your ears still to hear the wind, I want you
to sniff the sea’s aroma that we loved together,
to continue to walk on the sand we walk on.

I want what I love to continue to live,
and you whom I love and sang above everything else
to continue to flourish, full-flowered:

so that you can reach everything my love directs you to,
so that my shadow can travel along in your hair,
so that everything can learn the reason for my song.

Copyright © 2020, Brian T Field / Olim Music, All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 1959 Pablo Neruda and Fundación Pablo Neruda.
From 100 Love Sonnets by Pablo Neruda, English translations by Stephen Tapscott. Copyright © 1986 by the University of Texas Press. By permission of the publisher.

text by Brian T Field

How do we keep our children safe?
Do we give up our guns?
(ha, don’t be crazy for goodness sake)
Do we keep them indoors under lock and key?
No, that’s not the American way, you see
Should we shut down their phones and their screens?
That’s not a constructive plan it seems….
So, what is the answer, you well may ask?
It’s such an apparent and obvious task…..

Build a wall!
Just keep ‘em out
We don’t want those kind, keep ‘em stuck down south;
The solution’s so simple that it’s hard to believe,
And for those that sneak past, let’s catch and make ‘em leave.
Yea, build a wall! Let’s make it tall
If it’s strong enough, it’ll save us all
You say America’s one big melting pot,
I think we’re doing just fine, with the one’s we’ve got
Yea, Build a wall!

Something there is, that doesn’t love a wall
Embrace, embrace each other….
We are mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers
And uncles and aunts, and grandmothers and step‐cousins
And nephews and half‐sisters, and more……
Humans, we are humans…so are born to each other, you see
And with open arms we come from afar to be free;
Huddled masses to be free.

How do we keep all our women safe?
No one wants to be raped, for goodness sake –
We gotta keep all those bad dudes out
So let’s all hold hands and give up a shout:

Let’s build a wall!
Let’s make it fifty‐feet high!
If it’s tall enough, they won’t creep on by;
It worked for China, all those years ago
(That’s what I heard at least), so let’s give it a go!
And build a wall!
Let’s make it strong,
And if we build it fast, it won’t take half as long.
We gotta keep all our women secure,
And if we build that wall, it’ll do that – sure!
Yea, build a wall!

America the beautiful
Embrace with open arms
The waves of all you immigrants
With all your backwards charms –
We welcome you, and you and you…
Come shopping now with me;
And with the dollars that you earn
Grow our economy.

How do we keep our nation pure?
(For maybe a thousand years!) Hey, that has some allure!
We gotta keep it all really locked down tight
And if that doesn’t quite work, pretend with all of our might.

Yea, build a wall!
Let’s keep the homeland safe,
We’ll keep those teaming hordes in their own damn place;
And once we’ve fixed everything down South all nice,
We’ll build another wall up North to make us feel all right!
Let’s build a wall!

text  by Sephardic, traditional

Durme, durme querido hijico.
Durme, durme sin ansia ni dolor.
Cierra tus luzyos ojitos,
Durme, durme con savor.

Cierra tus luzyos ojitos,
Durme, durme con savor.
De la cuna salirás,
y a la scola entrarás
y tu allí mi querido hijico
a meldar t’ ambezarás.
y tu allí mi querido hijico

Durme, durme querido hijico.
Durme, durme sin ansia ni dolor.
Cierra tus luzyos ojitos,
Durme, durme con savor.
Cierra tus luzyos ojitos,
Durme, durme con savor.

De la scola salirás,
Novia hermosa tomarás
y entonces querido hijico
criaturas tinirás.
y entonces querido hijico
criaturas tiniras

translation:
Sleep, sleep my beloved son
Sleep, sleep with no worries nor pain.
Close your beautiful eyes,
Sleep, sleep favorably.
Close your beautiful eyes,
Sleep, sleep favorably.
 
From your crib you’ll leave,
And to school you’ll go
And it’s there my beloved son
That you’ll learn to read.
And it’s there my beloved son
That you’ll learn to read.
 
Sleep, sleep my beloved son
Sleep, sleep with no worries nor pain.
Close your beautiful eyes,
Sleep, sleep favorably.
Close your beautiful eyes,
Sleep, sleep favorably.
 
From school you’ll leave,
A beautiful girl you’ll take,
And then my beloved son
You’ll have children of your own.
And it’s then my beloved son
You’ll have children of your own.

text by Brian T Field

Though the world may have troubles,
And salvation hard to see,
I’ll keep my heart wide open,
Let the light shine on me.
Let the light, let the light,
Let the light shine on me;
I’ll keep my heart wide open,
Let the light shine on me.

I lived in sorrow and in darkness
And my faith, oh, it had flown;
The joys of life they were so fleeting;
My soul was searching for a home.
I was searching, I was seeking;
I was blind as I could be;
I had a longing for belonging,
No solution could I see.

Though the world may have troubles,
And salvation hard to see,
I’ll keep my heart wide open,
Let the light shine on me.
Let the light, let the light,
Let the light shine on me;
I’ll keep my heart wide open,
Let the light shine on me.

Every face I saw was empty
As from place to place I roamed;
People cold with isolation,
Hearts as hardened as a stone.
I was offered no assurance
And safe harbor did I need;
I heard the cries of desperation,
A world so filled with hate and greed.

But the storm clouds now are parting
And the answer sets me free:
I’ll keep my heart wide open
Let the light shine on me.
Show the world, yea, change the world
For the better, day by day;
I’ll keep my heart wide open,
Together build a better way.

Though the world may have troubles
And salvation hard to see,
I’ll keep my heart wide open,
Let the light shine on me.

Shine on me, shine on me,
Let compassion change the world;
I’ll keep my heart wide open,
Let the light shine on me.
Shine on me, shine on me,
Let compassion rule the world;
I’ll keep my heart wide open,
Let the light shine on me.

text by E.E. Cummings

i. the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls

the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls
are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds
(also, with the church’s protestant blessings
daughters,unscented shapeless spirited)
they believe in Christ and Longfellow, both dead,
are invariably interested in so many things—
at the present writing one still finds
delighted fingers knitting for the is it Poles?
perhaps. While permanent faces coyly bandy
scandal of Mrs. N and Professor D
…. the Cambridge ladies do not care, above
Cambridge if sometimes in its box of
sky lavender and cornerless, the
moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy

ii. goodby Betty,don’t remember me

goodby Betty,don’t remember me
pencil your eyes dear and have a good time
with the tall tight boys at Tabari’
s,keep your teeth snowy, stick to beer and lime,
wear dark,and where your meeting breasts are round
have roses darling,it’s all i ask of you—
but that when light fails and this sweet profound
Paris moves with lovers,two and two
bound for themselves,when passionately dusk
brings softly down the perfume of the world
(and just as smaller stars begin to husk
heaven)you,you exactly paled and curled

with mystic lips take twilight where i know:
proving to Death that Love is so and so.

iii. ladies and gentlemen this little girl

ladies and gentlemen this little girl
with the good teeth and small important breasts
(is it the Frolic or the Century whirl?
ones memory indignantly protests)
this little dancer with the tightened eyes
crisp ogling shoulders and the ripe quite too
large lips always clenched faintly,wishes you
with all her fragile might to not surmise
she dreamed one afternoon
….or maybe read?

of time a when the beautiful most of her
(this here and This, do you get me?)
will maybe dance and maybe sing and be
absitively posolutely dead,
like Coney Island in winter

iv. when you rang at Dick Mid’s Place

when you rang at Dick Mid’s Place
the madam was a bulb stuck in the door.
a fang of wincing gas showed how
hair, in two fists of shrill colour,
clutched the dull volume of her tumbling face
scribbled with a big grin. her soweyes
clicking mischief from thick lids.
the chunklike nose on which always the four
tablets of perspiration erectly sitting.
—If they knew you at Dick Mid’s
the three trickling chins began to traipse
into the cheeks “eet smeestaire steevensun
kum een, dare ease Bet, an Lee lee, an dee beeg wun”
her handless wrists did gooey severe shapes.

v. “kitty”. sixteen,5’1″,white,prostitute.

“kitty”. sixteen,5’1″,white,prostitute.

ducking always the touch of must and shall,
whose slippery body is Death’s littlest pal,

skilled in quick softness. Unspontaneous. cute.

the signal perfume of whose unrepute
focusses in the sweet slow animal
bottomless eyes importantly banal,

Kitty. a whore. Sixteen
you corking brute
amused from time to time by clever drolls
fearsomely who do keep their sunday flower.
The babybreasted broad “kitty” twice eight

—beer nothing,the lady’ll have a whiskey-sour—

whose least amazing smile is the most great
common divisor of unequal souls.

vi. when thou hast taken thy last applause

when thou hast taken thy last applause,and when
the final curtain strikes the world away,
leaving to shadowy silence and dismay
that stage which shall not know thy smile again,
lingering a little while i see thee then
ponder the tinsel part they let thee play;
i see the large lips vivid, the face grey,
and silent smileless eyes of Magdalen.
The lights have laughed their last;without,the street
darkling awaiteth her whose feet have trod
the silly souls of men to golden dust:
she pauses on the lintel of defeat,
her heart breaks in a smile-and she is Lust….

mine also, little painted poem of god

Poems from TULIPS & CHIMNEYS by E. E. Cummings, Edited by George James Finnage, are used with the permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation. Copyright 1923, 1925 and renewed 1951,1953 by E.E.Cummings. Copyright© 1973, 1976 by the Trustees for the E. E. Cummings Trust
Copyright© 1973, 1976 by George James Finnage.