Uploaded November 2023 | Updated September 2026, 2 weeks ago
Psappha Ensemble:
Benedict Holland - violin
Jennifer Langridge - cello
Tim Williams - cimbalom
Stephen Barlow - conductor
Claire Wild - soprano
In 'Unheard Voices', four composers collaborated with poets whose performing voices reveal diverse spoken accents and varieties of spoken English, to write songs that enable the huge diversity of varieties of English to be heard through the classical singing voice.
This performance was recorded live at Hallé St Peter's in Manchester (UK) on 25th March 2021. To view the 4K version we recommend you use Google Chrome or the Firefox browser. The performance took place during the Covid-19 pandemic and was live-streamed without an audience.
Premiered by Psappha as part of 'Unheard Voices', a project supported by the University of Salford, Arts Council England, and Psappha.
Learn more about Psappha: psappha.com
Film Production
Cameras - Soup Collective
Audio & Mastering - Rob Kelledy
Film produced and edited by Tim Williams
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Songs Translated from a Forgotten Language (Words by Ian McMillan / Music by Alan Williams)
'Songs Translated from a Forgotten Language' started out on Twitter. Ian McMillan, a master of pithy and punning tweets began a series of Twitter poems which he called Poems Translated from a Lost Language. I chose a selection of these to be performed (like our previous opera, 'The Arsonists') to be performed in his own South Yorkshire accent. They appear like fragments of a culture we only glimpse, with imagery whose meaning we can only guess at, and with moods varying from earie vague threats to earthy humour. These aphoristic, sometimes surreal poems place Ian’s work firmly in the mainstream of central European avant-garde, and they remind me strongly of poems like János Pilinszky or Anna Akhmatova more commonly set by composers such as Ligeti or Kurtág. Why shouldn’t the north of England express itself in modernist languages? The opportunity to work with Psappha featuring the central European instrument the cimbálom played by Tim Williams was irresistible.
Alan E. Williams
Learn more about Ian McMillan - uktouring.org.uk/ian-mcmillan
Learn more about Alan Williams - alanwilliams123.wordpress.com/about
Psappha Ensemble:
Benedict Holland - violin
Jennifer Langridge - cello
Tim Williams - cimbalom
Stephen Barlow - conductor
Claire Wild - soprano
In 'Unheard Voices', four composers collaborated with poets whose performing voices reveal diverse spoken accents and varieties of spoken English, to write songs that enable the huge diversity of varieties of English to be heard through the classical singing voice.
This performance was recorded live at Hallé St Peter's in Manchester (UK) on 25th March 2021. To view the 4K version we recommend you use Google Chrome or the Firefox browser. The performance took place during the Covid-19 pandemic and was live-streamed without an audience.
Premiered by Psappha as part of 'Unheard Voices', a project supported by the University of Salford, Arts Council England, and Psappha.
Learn more about Psappha: psappha.com
Film Production
Cameras - Soup Collective
Audio & Mastering - Rob Kelledy
Film produced and edited by Tim Williams
--------
Songs Translated from a Forgotten Language (Words by Ian McMillan / Music by Alan Williams)
'Songs Translated from a Forgotten Language' started out on Twitter. Ian McMillan, a master of pithy and punning tweets began a series of Twitter poems which he called Poems Translated from a Lost Language. I chose a selection of these to be performed (like our previous opera, 'The Arsonists') to be performed in his own South Yorkshire accent. They appear like fragments of a culture we only glimpse, with imagery whose meaning we can only guess at, and with moods varying from earie vague threats to earthy humour. These aphoristic, sometimes surreal poems place Ian’s work firmly in the mainstream of central European avant-garde, and they remind me strongly of poems like János Pilinszky or Anna Akhmatova more commonly set by composers such as Ligeti or Kurtág. Why shouldn’t the north of England express itself in modernist languages? The opportunity to work with Psappha featuring the central European instrument the cimbálom played by Tim Williams was irresistible.
Alan E. Williams
Learn more about Ian McMillan - uktouring.org.uk/ian-mcmillan
Learn more about Alan Williams - alanwilliams123.wordpress.com/about




![Arnold Schoenberg (1874-1951) - Verklärte Nacht, Op. 4
This performance was given on 4th October 2014 as part of a concert to celebrate the 80th Birthday of Psapphas Patron, Sir Peter Maxwell Davies who attended the performance and can been seen in the audience if you look carefully!
Benedict Holland & Lucy Baker - violins
Heather Wallington & Catherine Yates - violas
Jennifer Langridge & Paul Grennan - celli
Learn more about Psappha - http://www.psappha.com
Please Support Psappha: http://www.psappha.com/support-us/
Composed at the end of the nineteenth century, Verklärte Nacht (Transfigured Night) pulls together some principal strands in the music of that century’s second half. From Liszt comes the ideal of a one-movement symphonic form, from Wagner touches of harmony and the use of pregnant, versatile themes, from Brahms the string-sextet medium and the conscientious development. As the composer himself noted towards the end of his life: ‘The thematic construction is based on Wagnerian “model and sequence” above a roving harmony…and on Brahms’ technique of developing variation…. [But] I think there were also some Schoenbergian elements to be found in the breadth of the melodies, …in contrapuntal and motivic combinations, and in the semi-contrapuntal movement of the harmony and its basses against the melody.’ The determination to synthesize, too, was Schoenberg’s own, and characteristic of his later career.
The idea of a symphonic poem for string sextet seems to have preceded this particular composition, since there survives an abandoned beginning of another sextet – Toter Winkel (Blind Corner), after a poem by Gustav Falke – which may represent a first, failed shot. Success came when Schoenberg turned to the verse of Richard Dehmel, four of whose poems he set as songs in the same year of 1899. (Strauss, too, was absorbed with Dehmel at this time.) The poem Verklärte Nacht is in five stanzas, of which the first introduces the characters: a man and a woman walking through a moonlit oak wood. In the second the woman remorsefully confesses that she is carrying another man’s child. The third stanza recapitulates the opening image, as if giving the man time to think. Then in the fourth stanza he comforts his companion, points to the gleaming universe around them, and declares that the child will be transfigured into his own. Finally they embrace and walk on.
These five sections are respected by Schoenberg’s music, though with the addition of a short coda. The first and third parts (linked in the music as they are in the text), and also the fifth, are brief. In the second section Schoenberg represents the woman’s anguished outburst in an intense development, exactly in the position where it ought to be in a symphonic unfolding. The balancing fourth section reflects the poem in being more calm and rapturous, and fulfills symphonic duties in throwing new light on themes from the second part: just as the unborn child is transfigured, so is the musical material, and the opening D minor (the key most prominent in early Schoenberg) is swerved towards D major. Perhaps this was one of the attractions of the poem, that it provided a story of metamorphosis – even that it suggested that one could, by will and heaven, change the child of another (Wagner, Brahms) into one’s own.
Verklärte Nacht
Richard Dehmel translation by Paul Griffiths
Two people walk a bare cold grove;
the moon moves on, they look above.
The moon moves on, over high oaks;
the sky is bright: no cloudlet breaks
the glow; twigs make black cracks.
It is a woman’s voice that speaks.
I bear a child, and not by you,
I am a sinner, here by you.
I did myself the greatest wrong,
not to believe I could know bliss,
and yet I knew what it was to long
for a richer life, for a mother’s bliss
and duty; so I lost myself,
so, shuddering, I gave myself,
let myself to a stranger belong,
thought myself to be born anew.
Now life brings revenge headlong:
now I’ve encountered you, o you.
Her step unsteady, she goes along.
She looks above; the moon moves on.
Light bathes her darkening looks.
It is a man’s voice that speaks:
You bear a child, you bear no guilt:
Release the burden on your soul.
Look: universal light is spilt
on every thing: on each, on all.
Our journey lies on a cold sea
but we are warmed inwardly:
your glow in me, my glow in you.
That will transfigure the child you bear
and make it ours: our flesh, our care.
You have made me reconciled;
you have made me too a child.
He puts an arm around her hips,
the air they breathe blends in a kiss.
Two people walk through high bright night.
© Paul Griffiths Arnold Schoenberg (1874-1951) - Verklärte Nacht, Op. 4](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/qLdE2WhEj44/mqdefault.jpg)





