Metropolitan Opera star Susanna Phillips graced our stage in 2018 and showed us why she is one of today’s most sought-after sopranos. She returns this time with the award-winning Escher Quartet whose past collaborations have included pianist Leon Fleisher, Joshua Bell, and jazz luminaries Joshua Redman, Paquito D’Rivera, and Kurt Elling. The Quartet will take center stage for the first half the program before Ms. Phillips joins them in the second half.

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The Escher String Quartet has received acclaim for its expressive, nuanced performances that combine unusual textural clarity with a rich, blended sound. A former BBC New Generation Artist, the quartet has performed at the BBC Proms at Cadogan Hall and is a regular guest at Wigmore Hall. In its home town of New York, the ensemble serves as Season Artists of The Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, where it has presented the complete Zemlinsky Quartets Cycle as well as being one of five quartets chosen to collaborate in a complete presentation of Beethoven’s string quartets. Last season, the quartet toured with CMS to China.

Within months of its inception in 2005, the ensemble came to the attention of key musical figures worldwide. Championed by the Emerson Quartet, the Escher Quartet was invited by both Pinchas Zukerman and Itzhak Perlman to be Quartet in Residence at each artist’s summer festival: the Young Artists Programme at Canada’s National Arts Centre; and the Perlman Chamber Music Programme on Shelter Island, NY. The quartet has since collaborated with artists including David Finckel, Leon Fleischer, Wu Han, Lynn Harrell, Cho Liang Lin, Joshua Bell, Paul Watkins and David Shifrin, as well as jazz saxophonist Joshua Redman, vocalist Kurt Elling, legendary Latin artist Paquito D’Rivera and Grammy award-winning guitarist Jason Vieaux. In 2013, the quartet became one of the very few chamber ensembles to be awarded the prestigious Avery Fisher Career Grant.

The Escher Quartet has made a distinctive impression throughout Europe, performing at venues such as Amsterdam Concertgebouw, Berlin Konzerthaus, London’s Kings Place, Tel Aviv Museum of Art, Slovenian Philharmonic Hall, Auditorium du Louvre and Les Grand Interprètes series in Geneva. With a strong collaborative approach, the group has appeared at festivals such as Heidelberg Spring Festival, Incontri in Terra di Siena Festival, Dublin’s Great Music in Irish Houses, Risør Chamber Music Festival in Norway, Hong Kong International Chamber Music Festival and Perth International Arts Festival in Australia.

The current season sees another extensive European tour, including debuts at Musik und Kunstfreunde Heidelberg, de Singel Antwerp, Budapest’s kamara.hu festival and Bath Mozarfest. Alongside its growing success in Europe, the Escher Quartet continues to flourish in its home country, performing at Alice Tully Hall in New York, Kennedy Center in Washington DC, Chamber Music San Francisco, and the Ravinia, Caramoor and Music@Menlo festivals.

Currently String Quartet in Residence at Southern Methodist University in Dallas, Texas and Tuesday Musical in Akron, Ohio, the quartet fervently supports the education of young musicians and has given masterclasses at institutions such as the Royal Academy of Music in London and Campos do Jordão Music Festival in Brazil.

In Autumn 2016, the quartet released the third and final volume of the complete Mendelssohn Quartets on the BIS label. The set has been received with the highest critical acclaim; Volume II was listed in the Top 10 CDs of 2016 by the Guardian and hailed for its “sheer finesse” by Gramophone, whilst Volume III was nominated for a BBC Music Magazine Award. The quartet has also recorded the complete Zemlinsky String Quartets in two volumes, released on the Naxos label in 2013 and 2014 respectively, to accolades including five stars in the Guardian with “Classical CD of the Year”, a Recommendation in The Strad, “Recording of the Month” on MusicWeb International and a nomination for a BBC Music Magazine Award.

The Escher Quartet takes its name from Dutch graphic artist M.C. Escher, inspired by Escher’s method of interplay between individual components working together to form a whole.

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[tabby title=”Program Notes, Text, Translations”]

Litany

Deep is the sadness that gloomily comes over me, Again I step, Lord, in your house.

Long was the journey, my limbs are weary, The shrines are empty, only anguish is full.

My thirsty tongue desires wine. The battle was hard, my arm is stiff.

Grudge peace to my staggering steps, for my hungry gums break your bread!

Weak is my breath, calling the dream, my hands are hollow, my mouth fevers.

Lend your coolness, douse the fires, rub out hope, send the light!

Still active flames are glowing inside my heart; in my deepest insides a cry awakens.

Kill the longing, close the wound!

Take love away from me, and give me your happiness!

Entrückung

Ich fühle luft von anderem planeten.

Mir blassen durch das dunkel die gesichter Die freundlich eben noch sich zu mir drehten.

Und bäum und wege die ich liebte fahlen Dass ich sie kaum mehr kenne und du lichter Geliebter schatten—rufer meiner qualen—

Bist nun erloschen ganz in tiefern gluten Um nach dem taumel streitenden getobes Mit einem frommen schauer anzumuten.

Ich löse mich in tönen, kreisend, webend, Ungründigen danks und unbenamten lobes Dem grossen atem wunschlos mich ergebend.

Mich überfährt ein ungestümes wehen

Im rausch der weihe wo inbrünstige schreie In staub geworfner beterinnen flehen:

Dann seh ich wie sich duftige nebel lüpfen In einer sonnerfüllten klaren freie

Die nur umfängt auf fernsten bergesschlüpfen.

Der boden schüffert weiss und weich wie molke.

Ich steige über schluchten ungeheuer. Ich fühle wie ich über letzter wolke

In einem meer kristallnen glanzes schwimme— Ich bin ein funke nur vom heiligen feuer

Ich bin ein dröhnen nur der heiligen stimme.

Stefan George

Rapture

I feel air from another planet.

The faces that once turned to me in friendship Pale in the darkness before me.

And trees and paths that I once loved fade away So that I scarcely recognize them, and you bright Beloved shadow—summoner of my anguish—

Are now extinguished completely in deeper flames In order, after the frenzy of warring confusion,

To reappear in a pious display of awe.

I lose myself in tones, circling, weaving,

With unfathomable thanks and unnamable praise; Bereft of desire, I surrender myself to the great breath.

A tempestuous wind overwhelms me

In the ecstasy of consecration where the fervent cries Of women praying in the dust implore:

Then I see a filmy mist rising In a sun-filled, open expanse That includes only the farthest mountain retreats.

The land looks white and smooth like whey.

I climb over enormous ravines.

I feel like I am swimming above the furthest cloud

In a sea of crystal radiance—

I am only a spark of the holy fire

I am only a whisper of the holy voice.

Translation:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/String_Quartets_(Schoenberg)#Text

Ottorino Respighi, Il Tramonto

Già v’ebbe un uomo, nel cui tenue spirto (qual luce e vento in delicata nube

che ardente ciel di mezzo-giorno stempri)

la morte e il genio contendeano. Oh! quanta tenera gioia, che gli fè il respiro venir meno

(così dell’aura estiva l’ansia talvolta)

quando la sua dama, che allor solo conobbe l’abbandono pieno e il concorde palpitar di due creature che s’amano, egli addusse pei sentieri d’un campo,

ad oriente da una foresta biancheggiante ombrato ed a ponente discoverto al cielo!

Ora è sommerso il sole; ma linee d’oro pendon sovra le cineree nubi,

sul verde piano sui tremanti fiori sui grigi globi dell’ antico smirnio, e i neri boschi avvolgono,

del vespro mescolandosi alle ombre.

Lenta sorge ad oriente

l’infocata luna tra i folti rami delle piante cupe: brillan sul capo languide le stelle.

E il giovine sussura: “Non è strano? Io mai non vidi il sorgere del sole,

o Isabella. Domani a contemplarlo verremo insieme.”

Il giovin e la dama giacquer tra il sonno e il dolce amor congiunti ne la notte: al mattin

gelido e morto ella trovò l’amante.

Oh! nessun creda che, vibrando tal colpo, fu il Signore misericorde.

Non morì la dama, né folle diventò:

anno per anno visse ancora

Ma io penso che la queta sua pazienza, e i trepidi sorrisi

e il non morir… ma vivere a custodia del vecchio padre (se è follia dal mondo dissimigliare)

fossero follia. Era, null’altro che a vederla, come leggere un canto da ingegnoso bardo

intessuto a piegar gelidi cuori in un dolor pensoso. Neri gli occhi ma non fulgidi più;

consunte quasi le ciglia dalle lagrime;

le labbra e le gote parevan cose morte tanto eran bianche; ed esili le mani e per le erranti vene e le giunture rossa del giorno trasparia la luce.

La nuda tomba, che il tuo fral racchiude,

cui notte e giorno un’ombra tormentata abita, è quanto di te resta, o cara creatura perduta!

“Ho tal retaggio, che la terra non dà:

calma e silenzio, senza peccato e senza passione.

Sia che i morti ritrovino (non mai il sonno!) ma il riposo, imperturbati quali appaion,

o vivano, o d’amore nel mar profondo scendano; oh! che il mio epitaffio, che il tuo sia: Pace!” Questo dalle sue labbra l’unico lamento.

Translation: Roberto Ascoli

The Sunset                                                                      

There late was One within whose subtle being, As light and wind within some delicate cloud That fades amid the blue noon’s burning sky, Genius and death contended. None may know The sweetness of the joy which made his breath Fail, like the trances of the summer air,

When, with the lady of his love, who then First knew the unreserve of mingled being, He walked along the pathway of a field Which to the east a hoar wood shadowed o’er, But to the west was open to the sky.

There now the sun had sunk, but lines of gold Hung on the ashen clouds, and on the points Of the far level grass and nodding flowers And the old dandelion’s hoary beard,

And, mingled with the shades of twilight, lay On the brown massy woods – and in the east The broad and burning moon lingeringly rose Between the black trunks of the crowded trees, While the faint stars were gathering overhead. “Is it not strange, Isabel,” said the youth,

“I never saw the sun? We will walk here

To-morrow; thou shalt look on it with me.”

That night the youth and lady mingled lay

In love and sleep – but when the morning came The lady found her lover dead and cold.

Let none believe that God in mercy gave That stroke. The lady died not, nor grew wild

But year by year lived on – in truth I think Her gentleness and patience and sad smiles, And that

she did not die, but lived to tend Her agèd father,  were a kind of madness, If madness ’tis to be unlike the world. For but to see her were to read the tale

Woven by some subtlest bard, to make hard hearts Dissolve away in wisdom-working grief;

Her eyes were black and lustreless and wan: Her eyelashes were worn away with tears,

Her lips and cheeks were like things dead – so pale; Her hands were thin, and through their wandering veins And weak articulations might be seen Day’s ruddy light. The tomb of thy dead self

Which one vexed ghost inhabits, night and day, Is all, lost child, that now remains of thee!

“Inheritor of more than earth can give, Passionless calm and silence unreproved, Where the dead find, oh, not sleep! but rest, And are the uncomplaining things they seem, Or live, a drop in the deep sea of Love;

Oh, that like thine, mine epitaph were – Peace!” This was the only moan she ever made.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Antonin Dvorák, selections from Cypresses

Já vím, že v sladké naději Tě smím přec milovat;

A že chceš tím horoucněji Mou lásku pěstovat.

A přec, když nazřím očí tvých V tu přerozkošnou noc

A zvím jak nebe lásky z nich Na mne snáší moc:

Tu moje oko slzamí, Tu náhle se obstírá,

Neb v štěstí naše za námi Zlý osud pozírá!ý

Nad krajem vévodí lehký spánek Jasná se rozpjala májová noc; Nesmělý krade se do listí vánek,

S nebes se schýlila míru moc.

Zadřímlo kvítí, poto-kem šumá

Tišeji nápěvů tajemných sbor.

Příroda v rozkoši blaženě dumá,

Neklidných živlů všad utichl vzpor

Hvězdy se sešly co naděje světla, Země se mění na nebeský kruh.

Mým srdcem, v němž-to kdys blaženost kvetla, Mým srdcem táhne jen bolesti ruch!

Ó, duše drahá, jedinká, Jež v srdci žiješ dosud:

Má oblétá tě myšlenka, Ač nás dělí zlý osud.

Ó, kéž jsem zpěvnou labutí, Já zaletěl bych k tobě;

A v posledním bych vzdechnutí Ti vypěl srdce v mdlobě.

Gustav Pfleger-Moravský

I know, with sweet hope, that I can offer you my love;

That you will cherish my love with ardor.

And yet, when I look

into your eyes on this opulent night,

And see there all the power that love brings from the sky,

Suddenly my eyes well up with tears of sadness — Above our happiness, cruel fate looms.

Over the landscape ruled by care-free dreams, Clear May night is outstretched.

Gently a breeze steals through the leaves, From the skies, calmness descends.

Flowers slumber, and through the woods, Like a secretive choir, the brook sings.

Opulent nature muses blissfully,

Nothing remains that would bring conflict.

Stars are assembled to bring the light,

The earth is melding into the heaven’s orb.

But in my heart, where once blessedness blossomed, Now only illness remains.

Oh, you, my soul’s only dear one, Who will live in my heart forever:

My thoughts circle around you, Even though cruel fate separates us.

Oh, if I were a singing swan,

I would fly to you, and with my last breath, Sing my heart out to you,

Ah, with my last breath.

Translation: © Djordje Nesic and Hannah Sharene Penn, Reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive

George Frideric Handel,

Ogni venoto ch’al porto lo spinga, from Agrippina, HWV 6

Ogni vento, ch’al porto lo spinga, benché fiero minacci tempeste, l’ampie vele gli spande il nocchier.

Regni il figlio mia sola lusinga; sian le stelle in aspetto funeste, senza pena le guarda il pensier.

Vincenzo Grimani

May every wind bring him to port again Despite the raging tempest’s power May the pilot spread his sails full wide.

My only dream is to see my son reign Although unfriendly stars may lower, My thoughts will not be turned aside

Da tanti affanni oppressa, from Admeto, HWV 22

Da tanti affanni oppressa Talor dico a me stessa:

Vivere tu non puoi, misera amante. Par che il confermi amore, Dicendo, che dal core

Partirà solo il duol, con l’alma errante.

Nicola Francesco Haym

Overwhelmed by so many worries Sometimes I say to myself:

You cannot live, poor lover.

It seems the confirmation of love, Saying, that from the heart

Only the sorrow will start, with the wandering soul.

Da tempeste il legno infranto, from Giulio Cesare, HWV 17

Da tempeste il legno infranto,

se poi salvo giunge in porto

non sa più che desiar.

Così il cor tra pene, e pianto or che trova il suo conforto

torna l’anima a bear.

Nicola Francesco Haym

A storm-battered vessel,

if it at least arrives safely in port, has nothing left to desire.

So my heart, through suffering and weeping,

now that it has found comfort,

returns to make my soul happy at last.

Translation: © Andrew Schneider, Reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive

Oh, you, my soul’s only dear one, Who will live in my heart forever:

My thoughts circle around you, Even though cruel fate separates us.

Oh, if I were a singing swan,

I would fly to you, and with my last breath, Sing my heart out to you,

Ah, with my last breath.

Translation: © Djordje Nesic and Hannah Sharene Penn, Reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive

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