Above: Stephen Powell during the recording sessions, photographed by Ken Yamagisawa
Baritone Stephen Powell has released a new disc of songs by American composers, and it's a treasure. The collection's title - American Composers At Play - stems from the fact that each composer is at the piano for his or her songs. Further enticements of the disc are guest appearances by guitarist Jason Vieaux, clarinetist Charles Neidich, and the Attacca Quartet.
The recording is available for purchase here.
It was in the halcyon days of the New York City Opera that I had the pleasure of hearing Stephen Powell in performances of in FALSTAFF, THE PEARL FISHERS, LA TRAVIATA, and Monteverdi's RITORNO D'ULISSE. More recently, he sang (splendidly) in Benjamin Britten's WAR REQUIEM with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra at Carnegie Hall. Mr. Powell's voice - warm and rich - records beautifully, and his gift for bringing forth subtle nuances keeps the music ever-fresh and vibrant. His diction is so natural and clear, one hardly needs the printed texts, though the booklet is nice to have simply to enjoy as poetry.
Even before the singing starts, the crystalline piano figuration that opens Lori Laitman's The Wind Sighs (from her opera LUDLOW) lures the ear. Mr. Powell then begins to sing, movingly expressing the text, by David Mason, which tells of the land and the sky of Colorado. At "...into the blue" the singer's tone is suffused with tenderness, sending the first of several chills up my spine; then the voice turns mighty at "...the eyes of Heaven". The song ends powerfully, mourning the blood shed by the immigrants who built this country. I found several songs to love on this disc, and The Wind Sighs is one that I came back to several times.
For Ricky Ian Gordon's Souvenir, the Attacca Quartet's cellist Andrew Yee brings his own poetry to the song, which is all too brief. I was especially glad to hear Andrew's playing here, as he and I were briefly work colleagues at Tower Records, back in the day. Souvenir is a setting of words by Edna St. Vincent Millay, which opens with the singer alone save for isolated keyboard notes. Voice, piano, and cello then entwine in this song, its simple melody tinged with regret. A wordless passage voiced by Mr. Powell is particularly evocative.
The marvelous wit of Dorothy Parker comes into play for John Musto's Enough Rope, a set of three miniatures: Social Note, with its agitato piano; Résumé - a guide to choosing a suicide method, with a bluesy feeling; and The Sea, wherein the piano is hypnotic and mysterious, and the poem reads like an epitaph. Mr. Powell relishes Ms. Parker's ironic way with words.
The first of four gems from William Bolcom's Cabaret Songs - to texts by Arnold Weinstein - pops up next: Waitin, which sings like a spiritual.
In Lori Laitman's cycle Men With Small Heads, I found so many associations from my youthful years in the poetry of Thomas Lux. The poet was born in 1946, two years before me, which must account for the shared visions his writing summons forth: the mere mention of Maraschino cherries made me laugh out loud.
In the cycle's title song, Mr. Powell revels in the droll lyrics, the voice capturing the colours of this small-town panorama. Next is the hilarious Refrigerator 1957; this scene could have been set in my mom's kitchen, as every reference brings forth a memory. The poet's description of the "...heart red, sexual red, wet neon red..." of the Maraschino cherries is spot on: how often I would snitch one from the half-full little jar. Ms. Laitman, at the piano, savours the wit and occasional waltziness of her score, whilst Mr. Powell brings this slice of 1950s Americana into vivid focus, making it feel like he's singing directly to me.
A Small Tin Parrot Pin brings more recollections: a piece of cheap jewelry could become a childhood treasure (mine was a ring I had found one day, which I believed could cast spells on people I hated. At least once, it worked.) The significance of the pin to its owner is wonderfully detailed in Mr. Lux's poetry, again rendered so perfectly by the singer.
In Snake Lake, the Lux poem could have been written with me in mind: snakes have always terrified me. The poet provides cover for us ophidiophobes: "There is no shame in avoiding what will kill you." From start to finish, this Laitman/Lux cycle pleased and charmed me, and I can't imagine it better done than by the Powell-Latman duo.
Two more Bolcom cabaret songs are up next: Can't Sleep, and Song of Black Max. The first is a dreamy wisp of a song, the second a spectacular honky tonk delight which - research indicates - is about a mysterious man who was often seen in the city of Rotterdam after World War II, and who became a local legend. This is Mr. Bolcom at his best...and Mr. Powell, too. Every word and note is alive with a sardonic sense of lurking danger, real...or imagined.
John Musto's cycle The Brief Light, six settings of poems by James Laughlin, brings us guitarist Jason Vieaux, whose playing immediately establishes the tantalizing mood of When You Danced. In these songs, the desire an older man feels for a younger woman is expressed in Song, The Voices (love vs. sin), and The Brief Light (with its pianissimo guitar, three-note motif, and haunting finish). The final two songs, The Summons, and I Have Drifted, trace the obsession to its inevitable end.
In Ricky Ian Gordon's Bus Stop, Mr. Powell sings words of quiet desolation by Donald Justice, his voice rising to the song's passionate ending. Next comes Mr. Gordon's Father's Song, from his musical Sycamore Trees, which revolves around the composer's family life in post-World War II Long Island. The song is one of apology from a father to his children, seeking forgiveness for having been an ogre. But it's too late; the damage he's done is irreparable.
William Bolcom's Billy in the Darbies, drawing from Herman Neville's BILLY BUDD is a counterpoise to Benjamin Britten's setting of the same episode in his opera of the same name. The two pieces could not be more different in musical setting. Here, the Attaca Quartet create an aural atmosphere to which Mr. Powell's voice sounds in with sure strokes. Yet again, the baritone's diction is impeccable.
I've come back to Billy in the Darbies a couple of times; it makes me long to hear Mr. Powell and the Attaca Quartet in Samuel Barber's Dover Beach.
Two By Frost - Robert Frost, that is - are John Musto settings of Nothing Gold Can Stay and The Rose Family. Both songs are exceptionally brief, finely wrought, and perfectly performed. Satisfaction, the fourth Bolcom cabaret song on the disc, is also very short, and very ironic.
Lori Laitman turns to one of Emily Dickinson's loveliest poems for "If I...", in which Charles Neidich joins Mr. Powell; together they captivatingly serve up the melodious flow of the song, which Ms Laitman wrote for her father on his 80th birthday. This song brings the blessèd assurance of the quiet joys of human kindness, something so many people seem to have forgotten in this day and age.
William Bolcom's Lady Death is a setting of text by A.D. Winans, describing the stalking presence of a female grim reaper who is ever-ready when your number's up. In an unusual song about unexpected demise, The Good Death, from Ricky Ian Gordon's cycle of songs about the Civil War, Rappahannock County, tells of soldiers prepared to face death in battle (a "good death") but who are instead felled by typhoid. In Mark Campbell's words, as voiced by Mr. Powell, the soldier bemoans being deprived of a glorious death on the battlefield; instead, he's in the hospital ward, gasping for breath. It's an aspect of war one seldom thinks of.
Ms. Laitman's Money, words by Dana Gioia, features several timeless catch-phrases about cash. The song has the feel of a carnival barker's cries.
A Horse With Wings, an anthem-like piece by Ricky Ian Gordon, brings the album to its close. In his booklet note, the composer speaks of the song coming to him in a flash, fully formed, soon after he had started therapy. And what a wondrous flash it was, for this is a song filled with hope. The verses (by the composer) express his desire to live life to the full by embracing his humanity. The song ends with Mr. Powell's voice sailing upwards on "I wanna fly!": a beauteous burst of optimism.
~ Oberon