Friends, June has been extremely busy, but I’m feeling grateful. I’m happy to be busy with things that matter to me. It’s not easy to build an artist’s life, and I’m finally getting there.
We sang our second Paysages Choisis recital on Sunday, and it was such a joy that we’re already discussing repertoire for next year. The rest of my week was spent working hard on my year 1 portfolio for my master’s. In two weeks I’ll be back at Oxford, and I can’t wait to get feedback on my writing.
This week I also had the immense pleasure of hearing my friend Christian Hohn sing. He and pianist Katia Weimann curated a gorgeous evening of music around the theme of dreams in the French and German repertoire with their recital Träume | Rêves. Check out Christian's Instagram for upcoming performances!
This Friday is fête de la musique here in France, a national day of music celebration—and yes, I’ll be singing again! Our annual group recital Un Voyage lyrique is this Friday night at 20h.
In honor of these musical times, this week I’ll discuss Richard Hageman’s art song “Do Not Go, My Love” (1917) set to a poem by Rabindranath Tagore. I promise next time we’ll get back to literature or visual art.
The drama in Hageman’s “Do Not Go My Love” is masterful. Elegant, chilling, and full of surprise, it showcases the best of what art song can offer. With a voice and a piano, we travel to the deepest, most intimate depths of someone’s soul.
To begin, here is Tagore’s text:
Do not go my love, without asking my leave.
I have watched all night, and now my eyes are heavy with sleep;
I fear lest I lose you when I am sleeping.
Do not go my love, without asking my leave.
I start up and stretch my hands to touch you.
I ask myself, “Is it a dream?”
Could I but entangle your feet with my heart, and hold them fast to my breast!
Do not go my love, without asking my leave.
In Hageman’s musical setting, the first line climbs in pitch and volume to a powerful forte on “leave.” It sounds like the speaker has all the power, as if they get to decide when the lover will leave.
As the song continues, however, the speaker expresses harrowing fears and doubts that reveal the emotional truth of the situation. The repeated imperative “do not go” illustrates a maddening desire for control in a hopeless predicament: the speaker’s lover is leaving, and they simply cannot come to terms with it. Devastated and exhausted, they even wonder if they have fallen asleep and are dreaming.
The first two times the line “Do not go my love, without asking my leave” is sung, the piano plays the same series of chords repeated in the same rhythm. The last time, however, the piano changes. While the vocal line remains the same, the piano includes the dreamy sixteenth notes that are also played after the speaker asks if they are dreaming.
There are many ways of interpreting this change, but one thing is certain: the speaker is clinging to their denial. The song then ends with three chords that recall the song’s opening, this time played pianissimo without vocals. Hageman’s song is a stunning, heartbreaking piece on that terrible restlessness we feel when we know we are going to lose someone.
Salon friends, I must unfortunately “leave you” now to get to a rehearsal. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the Hageman. How do you interpret its ending? What is your favorite moment?
I’ll be performing “Do Not Go, My Love” this Friday at l’Accord Parfait, and I hope to see you there if you’re in Paris! You can reserve a seat here.
Have a great week all, et à la prochaine !
Rachel
Thank you so much for your warm presence at the concert and your kind words!
I find the use of the imperative very interesting, especially when they go as far as say "without asking my leave". It gives it an almost haunting and possessed quality. I'm very curious how the composer translated this into music, I will listen to it tonight!
On a side note: I'm more and more impressed by your managing your writing, singing, working and still find the time to share such interesting works and thoughts here!
The choice to use the image of feet-to-chest is an interesting one to me, a desire to keep the beloved's groundedness/rhythm in the heart. A foot-to-heart a surprise! There's something of demand in the lines -- "do not go my love/without asking my leave," which in a romantic loss or losing a loved one to illness, is not the best thing to say. Why insist the other hang on? For what beyond your own selfish need? These lyrics make me bristle a little, rather than fill me with any swirl of longing, and that has me thinking about perspective, and leaves me with lots of questions, which is what art does.