HTGCD240 – 5013993950950
Meriel and Peter Dickinson perform a selection of twentieth century song settings by Jonathan Harvey, Elisabeth Lutyens, Gordon Crosse, Lennox Berkeley and Peter Dickinson.
- BBC Radio 3 Record Review
‘The CD is well-packaged………. All the tracks have been engineered to give perfect reproduction………. Typically, I enjoyed this CD. I concede that the musical style of these songs is often a little removed from my usual comfort zone (Orr, Finzi, Moeran and brethren). However, British art song did not die with those above-named nor even with Benjamin Britten. The tradition lives on as is evidenced by all of the pieces on this CD.’
- John France of Music-Web International
 Surrealist Landscape (Lord Berners), 1973
Correspondances (Baudelaire), 1975
 Song I: La mort
 Song II: Bénédiction
 Song III : Elévation
 Song IV : Chanson d’après midi
Chinese Songs, Opus 78, 1971
 People hide their love
 The autumn wind
 Dreaming of a dead lady
 Late spring
 The riverside village
The New World (Ted Hughes), 1969
 It is not long
 When the start was on her brow
 A star stands on her forehead
 I said goodbye to the earth
 The streets was empty
 Where did we go?
Extravaganzas (Gregory Corso), 1963-69
 The streetsinger
 Outside the wall
 Death weeps
 I hang old photos
 Four windmills
 O people
 Mrs Lombardi’s month-old so is dead
 Last night I drove a car
Stevie Smith Songs
 The Songster
 Up and down
 Ceux qui luttent
 Be off!
 Lady ‘Rogue’ Singleton
 The film star
 The actress
 The repentance of Lady T
 Pad, pad
MERIEL DICKINSON (MEZZO)
PETER DICKINSON (PIANO)
Tracks 6-24: recorded Conway Hall, London, 18 March 1974.
Tracks 1, 2-5, 25-34: recorded Rosslyn Hill Unitarian Chapel, Hampstead, 14 October 1978. Engineering and editing: Bob Auger. Digital remastering: Peter Newble.
Translation of the text of Jonathan Harvey’s Correspondances
O Death, old captain, it is time! Set sail!
This land palls on us, Death! Let us put to sea!
If sky and ocean are black as coal,
You know our hearts are full of brilliancy!
Pour forth your poison, our deliverance!
This fire consumes our minds, let’s bid adieu,
Plumb Hell or Heaven, what’s the difference?
Plumb the Unknown, to find out something new!
‘Blessed be Thou, my God, Who givest pain
As cure divine for our impurities,
And as the very essence superfine
Which makes us strong for Thy felicities!
I know that grief’s the one nobility
That earth and even hell will not withstand,
That if my mystic crown I justify,
All ages and all worlds I must command.
But the lost jewels of Palmyra old,
The unknown metals, pearls deep in the sea,
By Your hand mounted, still would not, all told,
Give this fine diadem its brilliancy.
For it will be made of pure light alone,
Drawn from the sacred source of every light,
And mortal eyes as radiant as noon
Are mournful mirrors of its splendour bright!’
Above the lake, above the vale,
The forest, cloud and precipice,
Beyond the sun, beyond the skies,
Beyond the spheres celestial.
My agile soul, you take your flight;
And, swimmer ravished by the sea,
Flash gaily through immensity
With marvellous, virile delight.
Fly far from these miasmas foul;
Go, cleanse yourself in higher air,
And drink, wine heavenly and pure,
The light unending, sidereal.
Beyond the griefs and endless woes
That weigh upon our cloudy years,
Happy the spirit strong that soars
To fields serene and luminous.
The one whose thoughts, like larks, take wing
Towards the boundless morning skies,
- Who, far below, can recognise
The speech of flowers and dumb things.
IV Afternoon Song
Although your wicked eyebrows
give you a strange look
which is not that of an angel,
oh witch with your alluring eyes,
I adore you, oh my frivolous
and terrible passion,
with the devotion of a priest
for his idol.
Perfume stalks across your flesh
as if arising from a censer;
you bewitch like the evening,
dark and warm nymph.
Ah! your languor surpasses
the most potent philtre,
and you know of the caress
which makes the dead live again!
Your hips are in love with your back
and your breasts,
and you ravish the cushions.
with your languorous poses
Sometimes, to appease
your mysterious rage,
you solemnly lavish bites
You tear me apart, oh my dark one,
with a mocking laugh,
and then upon my heart you lay
your eye gentle as the moon.
Under your satin shoes,
under your charming feet of silk,
I place my great joy,
my genius and my destiny.
My soul healed by you,
by you, oh light and colour!
explosion of warmth in
my black Siberia!
(translation: Jonathan Harvey)