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Sea Tangle: Songs from the North

by Maren Montalbano

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1.
Chagarain gaoil, ho rao leó, Hao leoiro ho rao leó. ‘S fhada bh’uam a chi mi’n ceo, Cha ‘n‘eil deo an caol no’n cuan. Chagarain gaoil, ho rao leó, Hao leoiro ho rao leó. Uvil, uvil!* Nach truagh leat mi, Bhean ud thall an cois na tràghad? ‘S i bhean iadaich, Haori horó, Rinn mo thàladh, Hùg ó, ‘Sa dh’fhàg mise, Haori horó, An so ‘gam bhàthadh, Hùg ó, ‘S fuar mo leaba, Hùg ó, Fuar-fhliuch sleamhain, Hùg ó, Fliuch le m’ dheuraibh, Haori horó, ‘Sfliuch le sàile. Hùg ó. Beannachd màthar, Beannachd dhìlinn, Beannachd Iosa Air mo phaisdean. Mo leanabh beag, Gaol mo mhànrain, Iarraidh tu nochd Cioch do mhàthar, Ach ma dh’iarras ’s diomhain dà sin, Gu’m bi iad luma-lan de’n t’-sàile. Uvil, uvil! A ballad to my love, ho rao leó, Singing ho rao leó. Long ago and far away, your smoky guile No longer conceals ghost nor ocean. A ballad to my love, ho rao leó, Singing ho rao leó. Uvil, uvil! Do you not care for me at all, Woman yonder, along the beach? She is a jealous woman, Haori horó, She lured me here, Hùg ó, And left me, Haori horó, Here to drown, Hùg ó, Cold my bed, Hùg ó, Cold, wet, and slippery, Hùg ó, Wet with my weeping, Haori horó, And wet with seawater. Hùg ó. Blessings of a mother, Blessings of a life cut short, Blessings of Jesus Be upon my babies. My little child, My lion, my song, If you ask tonight For the breasts of your mother, Ah, your request shall be in vain, For they will be bursting full of the sea. Uvil, uvil!
2.
Heiteagan àirin huhuro, Heiteagan àirin hùo. A Mhór-thir bhoidheach, gorm do chò-ta, Fiamh an òir air t’aodainn. Heiteagan… Ianach canntaidh thu ‘s a’ Bhealltainn, Fàile calltainn mhaoth dhiot. Heiteagan… Grianach mòdhar thu ‘s an ògmhios, Fiarach cròthach braonach. Heiteagan… Heiteagan àirin huhuro, Heiteagan àirin hùo. Pleasing Morar, with your blue coat, Shades of gold on your face. Heiteagan… You are full of birdsong in Beltane, And fragrant with tender hazel. Heiteagan… Sunny, happy are you in June, Swinging, singing, reaping. Heiteagan…
3.
Thug Banrigh Lochlainn nan sgiath donn Trom-ghaol trom, an gaol nach lasaich, Do Aillte greadhanach nan arm geur Gu’n d’fhalbh i ann an ceilg leis. Chruinnich Righ Lochlainn gu grad a shluagh, Cabhlach cruaidh gu’n tug e leis, ‘Se sin a bha aig anns an uair, Naoi righrean ‘s an sluagh leo Mur robh fear a chaidh o fheum Nno chaidh do’n Gréig a null, Cha deachaidh fear d’a thir fein De na thug Righ Lochlainn nall. The queen of Lochlin of the brown shields Deep love gave, that all endureth, To Aillte young, of the keen-edged blades, And secretly with him fled she. The King of Lochlin, his hardy hosts In this hour of need gathered, And with them came the mighty stalwarts Of nine kings from the northern shores. There were that wounded fell, Or died on the field of battle, But never one was home returning, Of all the mighty Lochlin men. (Trans. Kennedy-Fraser)
4.
5.
Am béud chuir an Righinn Maibh nan còrn fial Air Fraoch mac an Fhithich leis an iadach gheur. Thainig easlainte throm, throm, Air inghean Odhaich nan còrn fial, Agus chuir i fios gu Fraoch ‘S dh’ fhidir an laoch ciod e a miann. Labhair i nach biodh i slàn Mur faigheadh i làn a bas mhaoth De chaorann an lochain fhuair O, ‘s gun a bhi ‘gam buain ach Fraoch. Ghluais Froach, le ceum ‘aigh Is chaidh e shnàmh air an loch, Fhuair e bhéist ‘na sior-throm suain ‘S a ceann a suas ris an dos. Rug a’ bhéist air anns an tràigh Ghlac i a làmh ann a craos, Ghlac an laoch i air a dà ghial — Is truagh, a Righ! nach maireann Fraoch. Thainig inghean ùr nan geal làmh, Ainnir a’ chuailein chais àill. Ta osna caraid an cluain Fhraoich, Gul nam mna air Cruachan fuar An gaol a thug inghean Maibh nan còrn fial Do Fraoch mac an Fhithich nan arm géur. The tale of the jealousy of Queen Maeve, For Fraoch MacFithich, of the sharp blades. She fell ill, and her sickness lay heavily Upon the queen of the overflowing horns. She told Fraoch of her malady; He asked what he could do for remedy. She said that she would not heal Unless her tender hands were full Of rowan berries from the frozen lake, Oh, and only if they are plucked by Fraoch. Fraoch proceeded, struggling step by step, As he swam through the lake, Where the beast lay sleeping, Her head resting among the rowan berries. The beast caught him on the beach. She grabbed his hand, She seized the hero between her two jaws — And, miserable fate! Too late for Fraoch. Maeve’s white-handed daughter came, A fresh maid with golden hair. The sigh of a friend by the burial cairn, The woman wept cold tears, by Cruachan. The tale of the love of the daughter of Maeve, For Fraoch MacFithich, of the sharp blades.
6.
Thainig mo bhodachan dachaidh. Thuirt e, fuireachdainn faireachdainn, “Thoir rud.” Uabh, uabh, uabh, uabhan, Hì-ri-rì-ri-rì-ri-rì-bhag, hoi-oi, Horo, bhodachan, Hhoro. Bhrist e’n guite, Hhoro, Shrachd e’n criathar, Hhoro. Uabh, uabh, uabh, uabhan… Shrachd e’n criathar, Hhoro, Chagain e bhrath ghlas, Hhoro. Uabh, uabh, uabh, uabhan… Sud am bodachan Nach robh Dia leis. My old man came home. He said, blustering and raging, “Meat for me.” [The Angry Man]: Oof, oof, oof! [The Scolding Woman]: Hee, hee, hee! Horo, old man, horo. He broke everything, horo, Angry and hungry he was, horo. Uabh, uabh, uabh, uabhan… Angry and hungry he was, horo, He gnashed his teeth, horo. Uabh, uabh, uabh, uabhan… An old man such as he is not With God.
7.
DEIRDRE: Chunnas na tri calamana, geala, Leis na tri batagama meala ‘n ‘am beul. ‘S O Naoise, Mhic Uisne, sorchair thusa dhomh dubhar mo sgeuil. NAOISE: Cha ‘n ‘eil ann, ach bruaillean pràmh is lionndubh mna, Dheirdre mo ghaoil. DEIRDRE: Chunnas na tri seabhaga duairc, Leis na tri braona, fala, fuarfhuil nan treun. ‘S O Naoise, Mhic Uisne, Ssorchair thusa dhomh dubhar mo sgeuil. NAOISE: Cha ‘n ‘eil ann, ach bruaillean pràmh is lionndubh mna, Dheirdre mo ghaoil. DEIRDRE: Chunnas na tri fitheacha dubha, Leis na tri duilleaga dubhach, Crann iubh ar an éig. ‘S O Naoise, Mhic Uisne, sorchair thusa dhomh dubhar mo sgeuil. NAOISE: Cha ‘n ‘eil ann, ach bruaillean pràmh is lionndubh mna, Dheirdre mo ghaoil. DEIRDRE: I saw three white doves, With three drops of honey in their mouths. Oh, Naoise, son of Uisne, illuminate my shadows. NAOISE: It is nothing, except confusion and pain, and a woman’s fears, Deirdre, my love. DEIRDRE: I saw three dour hawks, With three drops of cold blood of the brave. Oh, Naoise, son of Uisne, illuminate my shadows. NAOISE: It is nothing, except confusion and pain, and a woman’s fears, Deirdre, my love. DEIRDRE: I saw three black ravens, With three leaves of the tree of sorrow, The yew tree of death. Oh, Naoise, son of Uisne, illuminate my shadows. NAOISE: It is nothing, except confusion and pain, and a woman’s fears, Deirdre, my love.
8.
I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea; Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in heaven; Yet certain am I of the spot As if the chart were given.
9.
The moon is distant from the sea, And yet with amber hands She leads him, docile as a boy, Along appointed sands. He never misses a degree; Obedient to her eye, He comes just so far toward the town, Just so far goes away. Oh, Signor, thine the amber hand, And mine the distant sea,— Obedient to the least command Thine eyes impose on me.
10.
That it will never come again Is what makes life so sweet. Believing what we don’t believe Does not exhilarate. That if it be, it be at best An ablative estate— This instigates an appetite Precisely opposite.
11.
The grave my little cottage is, Where, keeping house for thee, I make my parlor orderly, And lay the marble tea, For two divided, briefly, A cycle, it may be, Till everlasting life unite In strong society.
12.
I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes — Each — with a Robin’s expectation — I — with my Redbreast — And my Rhymes — Late — when I take my place in summer — But — I shall bring a fuller tune — Vespers — are sweeter than Matins — Signor — Morning — only the seed of Noon —
13.
Like trains of cars on tracks of plush I hear the level bee: A jar across the flowers goes, Their velvet masonry Withstands until the sweet assault Their chivalry consumes, While he, victorious, tilts away To vanquish other blooms. His feet are shod with gauze, His helmet is of gold; His breast, a single onyx With chrysoprase, inlaid. His labor is a chant, His idleness a tune; Oh, for a bee’s experience Of clovers and of noon!
14.
This. This is my home. This is my home: this ribbon of ice and snow, this glimmer in the endless blue. Cold and caribou drum. Singing songs of Sedna. This. This is my home. This is my home. This is my father’s house. These steps that led to the sea now disappear. Now disappear into the sea. Disappear into the sea. Disappear. Disappear. Disappear.
15.
16.
The sea rises. Rises up. The sea is just behind the door. And we are weary. Weary. Weary from watching and waiting. The sea rises. Rises up. The sea is lapping at our toes. The earth is weary. Weary. Weary of fighting our battles. She melts away, releases the swirling blue, and the sea rises. Rises up. Beneath, Agloolik waits. And he is hungry. Hungry. Hungry to swallow the world. This was my home. This was my home. This was my home.
17.
Mother, make haste, hide my hair, cut me a cloak and kirtle. Wisest of women, prepare me as you would a son. The truth I seek is only in dreams. There is no peace for me here. I will seek out my slain kinsmen I will claim their riches as rightful heir, if I survive. Mother, make haste, when morning comes, I must depart. No longer Hervor, My name is Hervarth. There is no peace for me here.
18.
Shepherd, no, I shall not flee! Shelter I'll deny. Bring me to the burial mounds where the sons of Arngrím lie. I command a Viking ship, Hervarth is my name, my crew and vessel bide off-shore. Shepherd, no, I shall not fly! Ghostly grave-fires fright’ me not, Though your island blazes. Long-dead men shall never see Hervarth quit or quaver! Shepherd, here’s a necklace dear-- I will give it to thee. Guide me to the graveyard here. Wherefore do you run from me? Shepherd, fly! I shall not flee. Coping with the coward But seeks to embolden me. Brave, I seek my destiny!
19.
Awaken, Angantyr! I am Hervor, the only daughter of you and my mother. Give me the sword Tyrfing which the dwarves once made for Svafrlami. Hervarðr, Hjörvarðr, Hrani, Angantyr! Sons of Arngrím, men of evil, Speak to me. Prove yourselves of stronger stuff than mold and dust beneath this mound. Hervarðr, Hjörvarðr, Hrani, Angantyr! Bring me the sword that Dvalinn forged, or I will curse you with mounds of worms and stinging ants that swarm your flesh. Who are dead men to keep such a blade? Hell’s gate is lifting! The grave yawns bright! No infernal fire will daunt my courage. My father’s ghost! Give me the sword! I will guard it and wield it. The flames subside... I return to my ship, the sword in hand. I care not at all how my sons shall strive beneath its burden. May you all be at peace, for I must depart. I exist between worlds when grave-fires burn around me.

about

Songs based on myths and folk tales from Scotland, Iceland, Alaska, and New England, written and performed by women.

credits

released December 21, 2016

Maren Montalbano, mezzo-soprano
Rebecca Harris, violin
Elizabeth Huston, harp
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Sea Tangle
Arranged by Marjory Kennedy-Fraser (voice, harp)

When I stumbled upon this cycle, I immediately noted that there were no recordings of these songs even though they were written in the early 20th century. Curious, I sang through some of them, and was captivated by the care and attention with which Marjory Kennedy-Fraser and her research partner, Kenneth MacLeod, recreated the mood of the Scottish communities they visited as they collected these melodies and stories.

From Ms. Kennedy-Fraser:
“The bringing together of such ancient lore-music as is contained in this little album is no mere straightforward notation of words and air from a given folk-singer. Some of the folk have the word-memory, others the tune-memory; our task is to re-unite the best of what both the one and the other have preserved, thus bringing together once more the beautiful air and the beautiful words.”

Though the cycle was originally arranged for piano and voice, I felt that the harp would lend a more ancient-sounding quality to the songs, harkening back to the days of bards and kings.

Track 1 - The Sea Tangle, or The Sisters
Two sisters sit out on a reef, reflecting on their childhood. They love the same man, yet he has chosen the younger sister for his bride. The jealous older sister lulls the younger sister to sleep with a song, braiding her hair with the seaweed that grows on the rock so that she is trapped as the tide comes in.
The jealous sister eventually marries her widowed brother-in-law. Meanwhile, a bard finds some bones on the shore and turns them into a harp. As he plays at their wedding feast, the bones of the drowned sister cry out through the harp and tell her story. This song is what I imagine the wedding guests might have heard.

Track 2 - A Morar Reaper’s Song
Morar is a small village on the west coast of Scotland. Every culture has call and response songs for communal physical labor, and this song has been sung during harvest for centuries.

Track 3 - Heroic Ossianic Chant (Aillte)
Aillte is a warrior who, while traveling as a mercenary, falls in love with the wife of the powerful King of Lochlin. They run away together, taking refuge with the Fayne, Aillte’s clan in the Hebrides.
Furious, the King of Lochlin descends with his army and the hosts of nine other clans upon the Fayne. Unlike so many of these tales, this story has a positive outcome: the fierce Gaels, though outnumbered 10 to 1, drive away the Lochlinners in a decisive victory.

Track 4 - Seal Woman’s Sea-Joy
Scotland is full of legends of the selkie, an enchanted being that lives most of her life as a seal and comes to shore every so often to shed her seal skin and to mate with a man. If you find her skin and hide it from her, she will be unable to change out of her human form. However, the water is where she finds true happiness, and even without her skin, a selkie will always find her way back to the sea.

Track 5 - The Daughter of Maeve
Queen Maeve, jealous of the love of Fraoch for her daughter, sends him on a deadly quest for rowan berries that grow above the dragon’s mouth. Maeve’s daughter, guided by love, delivers a golden blade to Fraoch that helps him slay the beast; sadly, he himself is killed in the fray.

Track 6 - Hame Oor Bottachan, Hame Cam' He
This song was sung at the end of a waulking -- a rhythmic, labor-intensive process of cloth-making that involves applying force to cloth, particularly wool, to make the fibers thicker and softer. Waulking songs are generally only sung by women, as men do not participate in the waulking at all.

When the waulking proper has finished, the web of fibers is rolled up to be “clapped.” Of this particular song, Kennedy-Fraser writes: “The hungry rage of the man with his ‘uabh, uabh, uabh, uabhan’ and the mocking glee of the woman with her ‘hì-ri-rì-ri-rì-ri-rì-bhag’ clapped the cloth into shape and the fun was at an end.”

Track 7 - Vision of Deirdre
At her birth, a druid prophesies that Deirdre will be the most beautiful woman in the world. He warns, however, that if she is not killed immediately, her beauty will cause the downfall of her clan. Her father cannot bear to kill her, so he has her spirited away to be raised in solitude.

When she comes of age, she begins to have visions. First, she sees the face of her beloved, Naoise (a handsome lad from a rival clan who is not her betrothed). Her nurse shrugs the visions off as girlish dreams until Naoise appears in their camp and Deirdre runs away with him. This action kicks off a war, and Deirdre’s visions become darker and darker. She frantically tells Naoise, who dismisses these thoughts as a woman’s fears.

All of Deirdre’s visions come true, however, and the tragedy ends when Deirdre finally takes her own life.
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Six Dickinson Poems
By Emily Lau (voice, violin, harp)

I found Emily Lau’s album, Isle of Lucidity, while searching the internet for voice and harp music. I was so moved by the first track, “I Believe,” that I contacted her. Much to our mutual surprise, we have many friends in common, and we quickly agreed to work together. Five of the six Emily Dickinson poems were originally written for the choir Conspirare, and Lau has rearranged them for solo voice, violin, and harp (“The Bee” was written for this project).
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Kivalina
By Kamala Sankaram (voice, violin)

Kivalina is a small Inuit village of only 1.9 square miles, located on a barrier island in Alaska. The rising sea level threatens to submerge the village, its people, and their culture.

This work was written for Duo Cortona and premiered in 2014.
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Hervararkviða (Incantation of Hervor)
By Melissa Dunphy (voice, violin, harp)

When I first conceived of this album, I wanted to include music based on some of J.R.R. Tolkien’s stories of Middle Earth. Tolkien estate only grants a select few permissions to use his material for music-writing, I therefore cast my net wider and found the Icelandic Edda, which were one of Tolkien’s influences as he built his world.
One such poem tells the story of Hervor, a Viking princess whose father had been the owner of an enchanted sword named Tyrfing. He dies before she is born, and she grows up a wild tomboy. Her foster father finally tells her of how her father died protecting Tyrfing, and she immediately sets off to recover the blade herself, dressing as a man and joining a pirate crew.
Tyrfing has been created by the dwarves to grant its wielder success in battle, but it comes with a price: any time it is unsheathed, it must be sheathed again in warm human blood. It also tends to corrupt its owner, much like Frodo’s ring.
Hervor will not be deterred. Now captain of her own ship, she finds the haunted island where her father and Tyrfing lie; she calls forth her father’s ghost to demand the sword as her birthright. After some argument, the shade acquiesces, but Hervor must retrieve the sword from within a ring of fire. She emerges triumphant, and goes on to wield Tyrfing with more wisdom and caution than anyone before.

Dunphy has adapted sections of this epic poem into three parts, each with Hervor speaking to a different character. Both Dunphy and I were interested in exploring Hervor’s relationship to gender, and this is brought out both in vocal range and in use of instrumentation.


Maren Montalbano, mezzo-soprano
A graduate of New England Conservatory of Music and Tufts University, Maren Montalbano sang in the historic world premiere of John Adams’ Pulitzer Prize-winning work, On the Transmigration of Souls, which was later released into a Grammy Award-winning CD. Other commercial recordings include Douglas Cuomo’s opera Arjuna’s Dilemma, Alice Parker’s Listen Lord and The Family Reunion, Kile Smith’s Vespers, Lewis Spratlan’s Hesperus is Phosphorus, and The Crossing’s It is time, Christmas Daybreak, and I Want to Live. Her performances have been praised as “wonderful” and “suave and sensuous” by the Philadelphia Inquirer. In the past five years, Ms. Montalbano has been a guest artist with Lyric Fest, Choral Arts Philadelphia, Network for New Music, Tempesta di Mare, and Piffaro, the Renaissance Band. In 2015, Ms. Montalbano premiered Andy: a POPera with Bearded Ladies Cabaret and Opera Philadelphia, in which the Broad Street Review called her singing “impeccable.” Ms. Montalbano lives in New Jersey and sings professionally throughout a wide geographic area with such groups as Opera Philadelphia, Mastersingers of Wilmington, and The Crossing. She currently studies voice with Julianne Baird.

Elizabeth Huston, harp
Elizabeth Huston (née Morgan-Ellis) received her Master’s degree from Temple University where she studied with Elizabeth Hainen. Huston is currently the principal harpist of the Lansdowne Symphony Orchestra. In her solo career she specializes in multimedia productions of new music. Her production entitled 14 Sequenzas was acclaimed as “2014’s Most Daring Presentation of Classical Music” by the Philadelphia Inquirer. Harp Column editor Kimberly Rowe credited her with “Bringing the harp into the 21st century.” As an educator, she teaches harp through the El Sistema program Play on, Philly! and her private studio.

Rebecca Harris, violin
Praised for her “impeccable tone, pitch, dynamics and phrasing” (Chestnut Hill Local), English violinist Rebecca Harris performs on both period and modern instruments. Rebecca serves as concertmaster of the Philadelphia Bach Collegium for their series Bach@7, and has been a member of Tempesta di Mare since 2007, appearing on their orchestral recordings for Chandos. Her combined passions for collaborating with singers and performing new music have led to recordings with Choral Arts Philadelphia (David Ludwig’s Hannukah Cantata), songwriter Andrew Lipke (Siddhartha) and The Crossing and Donald Nally (Thomas Lloyd’s Bonhoeffer, Grammy nominee, 2017). Rebecca studied at the Royal Northern College of Music (United Kingdom) with Richard Ireland.

Producer - Daniel Perelstein
Engineer - Peter Richan
Recorded at Buckeye Recording Studios, Philadelphia, PA

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Maren Montalbano Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

A graduate of both New England Conservatory of Music and Tufts University, Maren Montalbano can be heard in 3 GRAMMY Award- winning albums: John Adams’ On the Transmigration of Souls (2005), Gavin Bryars’ The Fifth Century (2018) & Lansing McLoskey's Zealot Canticles (2019). Ms. Montalbano lives in New Jersey and sings most often with Opera Philadelphia, Trio Eos, and The Crossing. ... more

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