dinsdag 6 april 2021 19:30-20:30 uur

Het Santiago Trio – José Joaquín Parejo Bullón (piano), Davita Laseur (viool) en Francisco López Serrano (cello) – speelt muziek van Antonín Dvořák, Bedřich Smetana, Eugène Ysaÿe & Astor Piazzolla.

 

Het Santiago Trio is een veelbelovend pianotrio dat opgericht is door José Joaquín Parejo Bullón, Davita Laseur en Francisco López Serrano. Zij studeren aan het Conservatorium van Amsterdam en hebben individueel les van Frank van de Laar, Vera Beths en Jelena Ocic. Het verbindende element van dit trio is een groot enthousiasme voor het samen muziek maken en het verkennen van nieuw repertoire. Zij zijn regelmatig te horen op diverse podia.

 

Doneren

Voor je doorgaat naar de opname van de livestream hieronder, willen we je vriendelijk vragen een donatie te doen. Wellicht kan je op dit moment niks missen maar heb je wel heel erg behoefte aan muziek? Ook zonder een donatie kan je het concert terugkijken.
Doneren kan door een bedrag over te maken naar rekeningnummer NL25 INGB 0003 1784 54 t.n.v. Stichting Oosterkerk o.v.v. “donatie 6 april Santiago Trio”

 

Het programma:

A. Dvořák – Piano Trio no. 4 in E minor, Op. 90, B. 166 “Dumky”
I. Lento maestoso
II. Poco adagio
III. Andante

B. Smetana – Piano Trio in G minor, op. 15
I. Moderato assai

E. Ysaÿe – Sonata no. 4 in E Minor
I. Allemanda

A. Piazzolla – Le Grand Tango

A. Piazzolla – Las 4 estaciones Porteñas: No. 4 Invierno Porteño

 

Voorgedragen teksten

(klik op de titel om de tekst weer te geven)

Very early on a Sunday morning through the morning stars,
A grey cuckoo came flying.
She lighted on a grave mound,
She sorrowfully cooed:
“O Cossack head, O young fighter’s head,
In your home in Rus’ do you have a father or mother,
Or a younger sister?
If your father or mother knew,
They would send a white shirt for your death,
Or if your youngest sister knew,
They would send a white shirt for your death,
Or if your youngest sister knew,
She would rise early on a Sunday morning,
And would mourn sorrowfully,
She would coo like a cuckoo.
O Cossack head, O young fighter’s head,
You journeyed in strange lands,
You rode fine horses,
But now you need neither fine clothes,
Nor raven-black horses-
All you need is salvation sent from heaven!”
Oh, the Cossack is dead!
But the Cossack’s glory will neither die nor perish,
From today on forever.

Is it true that after this life of ours we shall one day be awakened
by a terrifying clamour of trumpets?
Forgive me God, but I console myself
that the beginning and resurrection of all of us dead
will simply be announced by the crowing of the cock.

After that we’ll remain lying down a while…
The first to get up
will be Mother…We’ll hear her
quietly laying the fire,
quietly putting the kettle on the stove
and cosily taking the teapot out of the cupboard.
We’ll be home once more.

– Vladimir Holan

Come and see what I’m bringing with this union of notes and words:
it’s the song that inspired me,
an evocation that cradled me in its arms last night.
It’s the voice of tango sounded on every corner
by those who live by an emotion that dominates them.
I want to sing for this sound
that gets sweeter and more seductive all the time.
Wrapped up in this illusion last night I listened to it,
an emotion composed of things from my yesterdays:
the house where I was born,
its iron fence and its ivy,
the old carousel and the rosebush.
Its accent is the song of sentimental voices,
its rhythm is the measure that lives in my city—
it has no pretensions,
it doesn’t want to be lewd,
it’s called tango, and nothing more.
If it’s so humble and so simple
in its measures,
Why add bad examples
in every phrase?
With these leftover emotions
it’s very easy to touch the heart.

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