Now, In June, When the night is a vast softness Filled with blue stars, And broken shafts of moon-glimmer Fall upon the earth, Am I too old to see the fairies dance? I cannot find them any more. - Langston Hughes
Dear readers, welcome to Art Song Canada’s Summer 2024 Edition! In this issue, three brilliant art song interpreters tell us what the word mentorship means to them.
“Mr. Mélodie” François Le Roux deep dives into his early career in France, intimating at how different mentors shaped his path (and even suggesting where his career might take him next!).1 We then feature the brilliant duo behind Sparks and Wiry Cries. Vancouver-born pianist Erika Switzer relates how mentorship is a reciprocal relationship, benefiting the mentor as much as the mentee. Her frequent collaborator, the Canadian soprano Martha Guth then shares a love letter to (a few of) the mentors in her life, from the art song legend Graham Johnson to the Grammy and Pulitzer-winning folk musician Rhiannon Giddens. Following our featured articles, we continue with our Introducing… series for little-known song cycles, looking at Lili Boulanger’s Clairères dans le ciel.2
Thank you for reading with us. If you enjoy this issue, please consider donating to support the Art Song Foundation of Canada’s bursary programs for young Canadian singers and pianists. Allons-y!
Regarding Mentorship by François Le Roux, baritone
While some artists speak of maîtres (masters) when looking at the origins of their careers, the term mentor feels more appropriate for me. A free artist remains the maître of his or her own journey. Mentors inspire and guide the artist’s path, helping the artist to find his or her own individual voice.
Among those who have been influential to me, first of all, are my parents. My father could have become a professional actor, and he directed me while I was in high school in Le Devin de village by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. At the age of ten, I played Tirésias in Sophocles’ Antigone, for which my mother made the costumes.
My high school music teacher, Nicole Cazalet-Aubert, also played a major role in my development. As students, she played Maurice Ravel’s Jeux d’eau for us on the classroom upright piano. She encouraged me to sing in the high school choir conducted by Claude Panterne. For my final examinations, Mme. Cazalet-Aubert had me sing Poulenc’s “Priez pour paix,” my first mélodie. She later became my collaborative pianist in several recitals, the first being the complete solo Duparc songs.
Mme. Cazalet-Aubert led me towards the man who became my singing teacher, the excellent Swiss basso buffo François Loup. Monsieur Loup entrusted me to coach some of his beginning students, sensing my pedagogic capacity after only one year of work with him. I appeared in his recitals as a narrator or translator, such as when he would perform Russian songs in recital. Monsieur Loup also introduced me to German lieder, and thanks to him, I fell in love with Schubert and Schumann.
I found my next mentors when I joined the Paris Opera Studio in 1976. I took vocal lessons from the famous singer and teacher, Vera Rosza, followed by the Kammersängerin Elisabeth Grümmer of Berlin. Grümmer kept an incredibly youthful voice throughout her life and astonished her students with her demonstrations. She led me towards many Schubert songs. I still remember her comments about “Der Zwerg.”
“Schreckliche Geschichte,” she’d say, “aber wunderbare Musik!”
At the Paris Opéra-Studio, my coach, the American-born Craig Rutenberg, encouraged me to work as much on recital repertoire as on opera. I have always followed his advice. I sang my first German Lieder recital of Schubert songs with him.
Another mentor, the great French singer Mady Mesplé, instigated my first recordings for EMI (now Warner Classic), as well as a number of television shows on which I performed with her. She was a star soprano, but she behaved nothing like a star, always demonstrating admirable musicianship and humility. She also introduced me to Jeff Cohen, who has been my collaborator ever since.
Finally decisive for me as a mentor was Simone Féjard, vocal coach at the Paris Opéra-Comique. Simone guided me through the role of Pelléas, which became my trademark. She had me work on the part quietly for two and a half years, and when, in January 1985, the Lyon Opera presented the production, I felt ready, confident, and happy. In 1997, when I was about to sing Golaud in the same Debussy opera, I decided to go and work on it with her. She accepted with pleasure but refused any fee, asking only for a free ticket for the first performance. At the end of that performance and after very warm congratulations, she said that she was now waiting to attend my staging of Debussy’s opera, a desire which I have not (yet?) been able to fulfill. Simone was a true coach and mentor; demanding, warm, and always offering positive support.
Named “Mr Mélodie” by American critics, François Le Roux gives numerous recitals accompanied by such renowned names as Graham Johnson, Roger Vignoles, Christian Ivaldi, Olivier Godin and Jeff Cohen, and conducts master classes dedicated to the interpretation of French repertoire around the world. His first book Le Chant intime, received the “René Dumesnil Prize 2004” from the Académie des Beaux-Arts. He was awarded the grade of “Chevalier” in the French National Order of les Arts et Lettres in 1996, and chosen as “Musical Personality of the year 1997-1998” by the French Critics Union. He is a vocal teacher at the Conservatoire national supérieur de musique et de danse de Paris (CNSMDP) and at the École normale de Musique Alfred Cortot as well as Artistic Director of the Académie Francis Poulenc in Tours.
The Song Exchange: In giving, we receive by Erika Switzer, pianist
I am the incredibly fortunate beneficiary of more mentoring that I can possibly capture in this brief meditation. Beginning in my very early and fragile student years, I sought connection to the artists that inspired me most through attendance of their masterclasses. Among the many extraordinary art song luminaries that shared their experiences, Elly Ameling, then Dalton Baldwin, Rudolf Jansen, Brigitte Fassbaender, and François Le Roux stand out for their enduring and encouraging support. As a young artist, I carried more fear than confidence and more innocence than wisdom. The examples made by each of these artists of the process of craft, the nuance of interpretation, and the good humour of mistakes along the way gave me the courage I required to risk my own path forward. The angelically patient mentors that guided me, week-by-week, along that extended path, Jane Coop, Rena Sharon, Helmut Deutsch, Margo Garrett, and Jonathan Feldman, are interwoven in their individual ways into the textures and colours of my musical thinking.
Art Song may not be where we go to earn all the money, but it most certainly is where we go to become enriched. The boundless riches of collaboration, poetry, musical expression, and listener engagement could not be further from transactional. Quite the opposite, the riches are relational. In relating to art song we relate to our humanity, our joys and our fears, through both the doing (our intrinsic physical marriage to music making) and perceiving. This is what I have learned from mentors who have led by example and from a place of deep generosity.
I recently read an article in Forbes magazine (Oct 2023) in which National Philanthropic Trust CEO Eileen Heisman explained that “In philanthropy, data shows that the act of charitable giving benefits the giver as well as the recipient. Mentorship has a similar exchange. Good mentors accept the responsibility knowing that they will learn and grow as much as their mentees.” If mentorship is the sharing of experience in a multidirectional continuum through which we develop functions and expressions of our humanity, what more magnificent and inherently equitable model for education could we find? Mentorship empowers both parties to engage in the vulnerable work of reflection and personal identification, centering the human over the task and prioritizing process over product.
Connection and community are among my core values, those elements of life that make life worth living. Now that I, too, am a mentor, I experience deep gratitude for opportunities to witness and guide, always knowing that it is not only my experience that is present in the room. I carry the wisdom of those named above and many more. When their voices arrive like angels, heralding new connections and growth, I understand the rich inheritance, far greater than the sum of my own experience, that is wholly available to those with whom I connect.
Erika Switzer is an accomplished pianist who collaborates regularly in major concert settings around the world. In 2009, she and Martha Guth founded Sparks & Wiry Cries, which curates opportunities for song creators and performers, commissions new works, presents the songSLAM festival in New York City, and publishes The Art Song Magazine. She is also devoted to new music, and has recently premiered new compositions in the 5 Boroughs Music Festival Songbook II; at the Brooklyn Art Song Society; and at Vancouver’s Music on Main. She is also an active teacher, serving on the music faculty at Bard College and the Vocal Arts Program of the Bard Conservatory of Music. Switzer holds a doctorate from The Juilliard School, and lives in New York’s Hudson Valley.
A Love Letter to (a few of) the Mentors in my Life by Martha Guth, soprano
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer. That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. —Walt Whitman
When I enter pianist and scholar Graham Johnson’s house in London, the first thing I see is that it is filled to the brim with books. They are everywhere: the walls in every room are lined with shelves. When rehearsing or discussing the nuances of text he often pulls one out and seemingly knows the exact page of whichever poem he wants to read aloud to illustrate a point. Books and poetry were my entry point into art song - so that is a natural meeting place in sustaining our now decades long collaboration. From Graham, likely my greatest mentor and now colleague, I learn what it is to really care for text and music, and then, how to deepen my music making so that it reflects both research and life experience. I learn to shut out the noise (as alluring as it can sometimes be). I learn that sitting still with the words and music guides every aspect of musical expression in art song. Perhaps this is why I can so easily own that music and poetry are my own form of spiritual practice.
When I enter the house of pianist Erika Switzer, I feel community and generosity. Her welcoming home is a revolving door of guests and friends. I have learned many things from her: how to think about and maintain an equal partnership, how to teach with empathy, how to work with patience through the hard stuff, and how to value my own contributions while honoring the contributions of those around me.
When I visit with poet Tsitsi Jaji - friend, collaborator & co-conspirator, I notice the way she looks at the world, responding with depth and thoughtfulness to even the most mundane statements. Her brilliance and kindness teach me to broaden my gaze and reconsider the angles from which I am thinking about things.
When I watch my friend the singer Rhiannon Giddens perform, I see a fiercely direct focus and a vulnerable openness; a lesson for every performer. I tend to hedge and soften my questions and statements about what I think of my personal contributions, but when she asks me directly over breakfast, “What do you want?” I know it is a dare to say the thing unflinchingly, so I do. From her I have learned to be a musician with a personal mission statement and to simply ask for what I want.
When I listen to mezzo-soprano Rebecca Hass give land acknowledgements, her inclusive voice teaches me how to honour and reflect on all ancestors, as they help to contextualize our place in the continuum of time. Her acknowledgments remind me that as musicians and teachers we are simply one link in a long chain that extends forward and backwards, and it is our job to keep the light of knowledge burning and then pass it on.
Through the kindness of pianist Javier Arrebola, I remember the gift of silence, listening, slowness, and respect for others. Soprano Jardena Gertler Jaffe, often the most thoughtful and inclusive voice in a room, a powerful reminder. The list goes on and on...too many to name.
All of these friends and colleagues have changed my life for good. The gift of watching their practice constantly informs my own, and these torch bearers are who I think about when I am called to do this work myself.
If mentorship is about encouraging and then bearing witness to someone else's growth, it requires two things: to see the artist and their gifts for exactly who and what they are, and to call upon the knowledge of your own mentors to hand down their wisdom so the chain can continue. While hardly any information is truly new, we can be good stewards of our own musical-spiritual practice and a bridge for others as they too contribute a verse to the powerful play. That you are here—that life exists and identity, that the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
Juno and Latin Grammy-nominated soprano Martha Guth’s recital and concert highlights include Wigmore Hall, Lincoln Center, The National Cathedral, St. John Smith Square, The Toronto Symphony Orchestra, The Chicago Philharmonic, and many more. With Erika Switzer, she is Co-Founder/Director of Sparks & Wiry Cries, a non-profit dedicated to art song spanning publication, live performance, and commission of new works. Martha is Assistant Professor of Voice at Ithaca College, and on faculty at SongFest and the Vocal Academy at the Collaborative Piano Institute.
Lili Boulanger’s Clairères dans le ciel (1913-1914) by Sara Schabas, soprano
Lili Boulanger composed the song cycle Clairères dans le ciel when she had just won the Prix de Rome. At nineteen years old, she was the youngest composer as well as the first woman to win the prestigious prize and quickly signed a contract with Ricordi Publishing House. The almost forty-minute, thirteen-movement cycle is Boulanger’s longest work, as she tragically died a few years after completing it. Comprised of settings by the Symbolist poet Francis Jammes, the cycle’s prose poetry blends Catholic and flower imagery. It recounts a man’s love for a gawky girl who reminds him of tall flowers that like to grow in water—lilies, perhaps. According to Boulanger’s sister Nadia, Lili strongly identified with the gravement gaie, lily-like protagonist described by Jammes.
Lili Boulanger’s song cycle is a feast of riches for lovers of post-Wagnerian French Romanticism and empassioned, high tessitura depictions of young love and its aftermath. Hidden codes and recognizable leitmotifs abound throughout the work, as well as ambiguous markings such as à l’aise, resigné or avec mélancolie, comme dans un souvenir. The following excerpt comes from a performance featuring myself and the pianist Tony Stauffer. For more, I highly recommend listening to Kevin and Heidi Grant Murphy’s gorgeous recording on their album Clearings in the Sky.
Sara Schabas is a Dora-nominated soprano, writer and yoga teacher. She has performed and created leading roles with companies including Vancouver Opera, Pacific Opera Victoria, Tapestry Opera, the Dayton Opera, and Aspen Opera, and is a former member of Barbara Hannigan’s Equilibrium Young Artists. Currently based in Montreal, she is a doctoral student at McGill University — where she recently received the Wirth Vocal Prize — and editor of Art Song Canada magazine.
Cet article est également disponible en français.
Editor’s note: Readers, do you have a little known song cycle you’d like to share with the Art Song Canada community? Write to us at info@artsongfoundation.ca to be featured!