A setting of Lewis Carroll's "The Walrus and the Carpenter" for voice and small ensemble

Performed by Tracy Cowart, mzzo, and The Great Noise Ensemble conducted by Armando Bayolo

The sun was shining on the sea,
      Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
      The billows smooth and bright —
And this was odd, because it was
      The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
      Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
      After the day was done —
"It's very rude of him," she said,
      "To come and spoil the fun."

The sea was wet as wet could be,
      The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
      No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead —
      There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
      Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
      Such quantities of sand:
If this were only cleared away,'
      They said, it would be grand!'

If seven maids with seven mops
      Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Walrus said,
      That they could get it clear?'
I doubt it,' said the Carpenter,
      And shed a bitter tear.

O Oysters, come and walk with us!'
      The Walrus did beseech.
A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
      Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
      To give a hand to each.'

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
      But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
      And shook his heavy head —
Meaning to say he did not choose
      To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
      All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
      Their shoes were clean and neat —
And this was odd, because, you know,
      They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
      And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
      And more, and more, and more —
All hopping through the frothy waves,
      And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
      Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
      Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
      And waited in a row.

The time has come,' the Walrus said,
      To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
      Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
      And whether pigs have wings.'

But wait a bit,' the Oysters cried,
      Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
      And all of us are fat!'
No hurry!' said the Carpenter.
      They thanked him much for that.

A loaf of bread,' the Walrus said,
      Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
      Are very good indeed —
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
      We can begin to feed.'

But not on us!' the Oysters cried,
      Turning a little blue.
After such kindness, that would be
      A dismal thing to do!'
The night is fine,' the Walrus said.
      Do you admire the view?

It was so kind of you to come!
      And you are very nice!'
The Carpenter said nothing but
      Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf —
      I've had to ask you twice!'

It seems a shame,' the Walrus said,
      To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
      And made them trot so quick!'
The Carpenter said nothing but
      The butter's spread too thick!'

I weep for you,' the Walrus said:
      I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears he sorted out
      Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
      Before his streaming eyes.

O Oysters,' said the Carpenter,
      You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
      But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
      They'd eaten every one.

The Walrus and the Carpenter

From the diary of renowned musicologist Johannes von Märland (b.1890 [sic])

May 2, 2014:

I was hiking alone in the woods east of Oberniederhiem.  At the forest’s edge was a Heather, a vibrantly colorful field of flowers and insects, all of which were dancing a jig in and out of and around each other; a bright, pulsating tumble of a dance that I watched with a smile of fascination.   

As I wandered into the forest itself, I heard a gentle wind rustling the leaves, with sounds and bits of song fluttering about; and echoing from the trees, a soft and oldish melody, an aire in the Air, strummed, sung, hummed.  The tune became more solid, more defined, adding layers, crystallizing into a hymn of richly dense sonic stone.  In the end, though, the layers dissipated, stone evaporated, and the song was sent back into the breeze.

I climbed higher into the foothills.  At some point, I found a dense, colorful rock on the ground.  Suspecting that there might be something of value in the rock—perhaps a minuet—I started carefully chipping away at it with my pickaxe.  Indeed, it split open, revealing a lovely little Gem: a perfectly tuned major third.

Once I reached the high, cold mountains, I came upon a small ice-cave.  As I inhaled the thin air, I looked around the cave.  Embedded in one of the walls was a waltz, a Relic from an earlier time.  It was a bit distorted in places, somewhat twisted from years of being frozen in slowly moving ice; but it was still recognizable.  I tried to free it, but could only get part of it out; I listened and danced a bit as it swirled away into the purple sky. 

Performed by the Arneis Quartet

Finds (String Quartet Version.  See "Albums" for String Orchestra Version)

The second movement of my four-movement work for solo harpsichord. MIDI realization by Adam Grimes

In F-ish Thought: mvt. 2

A setting of Yeats's "The Second Coming" for voice and string quartet.
Taken from a live performance.
Krista River, voice
The Arneis Quartet

Poem:
Turning and turning in the widening gyre   
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst   
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.   
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out   
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert   
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,   
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,   
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it   
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.   
The darkness drops again; but now I know   
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,   
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

The Second Coming

A setting of Theodore Roethke's "My Papa's Waltz" for voice and piano.

Performed by Sarah Pelletier, soprano, and John McDonald, piano

The whiskey on your breath   
Could make a small boy dizzy;   
But I hung on like death:   
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans   
Slid from the kitchen shelf;   
My mother’s countenance   
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist   
Was battered on one knuckle;   
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head   
With a palm caked hard by dirt,   
Then waltzed me off to bed   
Still clinging to your shirt.

My Papa's Waltz

A setting of Wallace Stevens's "Disillusionment of Ten O'Clock"

Performed by Aaron Engebreth, baritone, and Alison d'Amato, piano

The houses are haunted   
By white night-gowns.   
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,   
Or green with yellow rings,   
Or yellow with blue rings.   
None of them are strange,   
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.   
Only, here and there, an old sailor,   
Drunk and asleep in his boots,   
Catches tigers
In red weather.

Disillusionment of Ten O'Clock

A song I wrote--music and lyrics--for my wife Kimberly on our wedding.

Vocals: Tom Schnauber
Background vocals: Dave Anthony
Instrumentals: Nemes

Ladyslipper

Recit & Lament (Walrus & Carpenter)

Recit & Tango (Walrus & Carpenter)

Recit & March (Walrus & Carpenter)

Shanty (Walrus & Carpenter)

Summer in Minnesota.  The sun is setting, the broad sky is clear, and the cool light of dusk promises a welcome respite from the day’s heat and humidity.  You step out into the stillness and stand, gazing at the orange-red horizon, thankful for the dimming light and approaching night.  And then they come.  Those insidious little creatures, those vile insects that define and destroy the season: the mosquitoes.  Only some at first, few enough to make you think that if you swat them away, you can still enjoy the evening air.  But then more come, and more, and even more.  They whine, you moan, they sting, you slap, they swarm, you flail.  Soon, your body a mass of swelling welts, you realize that the twilight peace you had hoped for when you left your house is a sham, an impossible illusion shattered by the piercing terror of those infernal exsanguinators.  Angry and itching, you run back inside and slam the door shut.

Performed by Tamara Thweatt, flute, and Hey-Seon Choi, piano

Those Infernal Exsanguinators

Relic (Finds)

Gem (Finds)

Air (Finds)

Heather (Finds)

A setting of the three words "dona nobis pacem"  for choir SSAA.

Workshopped by Lorelei Ensemble

Dona Nobis Pacem

A setting of three winter poems by Jeff Duncan for SATB choir

Performed live by the Cambridge Chamber Singers led by Ray Fahrner

Part 1
Oh it’s cold,
a cold so cold
it can’t be told
yet must be told—

a wake-up cold,	
a zen-slap cold,

a breath-taking, soul-stirring,
nose-running, eyes-blurring,
face-burning, head-smiting,
mind-numbing, frost-biting,
blood-slowing, breath-stealing,
life-breaking, death-dealing

charge of electrifying, stupefying, mortifying,
agonizing, tantalizing,
energizing, fossilizing,
polarizing
 COLD!


Part 2
It’s snowing,
snowflakes falling in a hush
or slashing in a howling rush
but always with the wind at their backs,
dancing down this way and that
through dusk, through dark, making their mark,
a still and silent cover-up in white
  concealing all our messes with delight,
	the brilliant shine and glow of spotless snow,

and whispering or wailing, as the case may be,
	“Look and see, look and see,
	look at me, look at me,
	and listen as well,
	for I have a secret to tell,
	a wonderful secret to tell
	in my whiteness on the ground,
	my whiteness in the air,
	my whiteness beyond sound,
	my whiteness everywhere,
	the white of nothing there,
	just whiteness everywhere,
	the blank white heart of despair.”
	

	Part 3
	But says the child in our soul,
	the kid eternal in our soul:
	“Not so!  Not so!
	Despair, you say?  Get away!
	It’s white magic, is the snow,
	makes the world a land of faery,
	a land we know is temporary
	but still an enchanted place to play,
	a happenstance holiday,
	a bona-fide, sure-enough holy day,
	so let’s rejoice and be glad in it,
	go out and play the livelong day
	until we’re tired and sopping wet
	and cannot play another minute,
	our fingers, toes, and nose all froze,
	‘cause that’s as fun as fun can get,
	goodness knows, oh goodness knows.”

	Let the kid loose in our souls!

WinterSoul-I

My take on a Renaissance Lute Song.  

Poem by Thomas Lovell Beddoes.

Performed by Illana Davidson, soprano; and Linda Osborn, piano.

How many times do I love thee, dear?
Tell me how many thoughts there be
In the atmosphere
Of a new-fall'n year,
Whose white and sable hours appear
The latest flake of Eternity: 
So many times do I love thee, dear.

How many times do I love again?
Tell me how many beads there are
In a silver chain
Of evening rain,
Unravell’d from the tumbling main,
And threading the eye of a yellow star: 
So many times do I love again.

Song

Excerpts from incidental music I wrote for a University of Iowa Theater Department production of Euripides's "The Trojan Women", directed by the late, great Steven Weiss

Trojan Women: Helena's Entrance

Trojan Women: Finale

Excerpts from incidental music I wrote to an Emmanuel College Theater Department production of "Dead Man Walking".

For three female voices

Dead Man Walking: Introduction

Dead Man Walking: End Act I

A setting of the witches' incantation from Macbeth (IV/i)
for soprano, alto, tenor, and string quartet.

Andrea Chenoweth, sop; Julia Cavalaro, alto; Ethan Bremner, tnr
The Ulysses String Quartet
Conducted by Tim Ribchester

Sisters Weird

A setting of Stevie Smith's "I Like to Play With Him" for soprano and piano

Kristen Watson, soprano; Linda Osborn, piano

I like to play with him
He would be so lovely to play with
He is so solemn sensitive conceited
He would be lovely to play with 
I could pretend
Say so-and-so and so-and-so
Watch his responses
How'd he take that today
And this tomorrow,
Mood, tense, you see
I'd conjugate His Inexcellency.

Oh on that evening you were
So charming enchanting touching
Lost wounded and betrayed
Oh that should have only been the beginning.

I Like To Play With Him

Performed live by the Semiosis Quartet at First Church Boston.

"Dona nobis pacem" version for String Quartet

Written for my love, Kimberly, on our second wedding anniversary.

Voice: Tom Schnauber
Guitars: Dave Anthony
Violin: Josh Knowels
Additional instruments and mix: Dave Anthony

I don’t know how to make a video,
I don’t know how to make a song; ok,
Maybe I know how to make a little of
Something to make you want to dance along.

You don’t know how much I love to watch you move
When your hips and hands and feet get in a groove,
So, I’ll maybe make a little melody,
Something to make you want to dance along.
Dance along.

Dance for me now, no one else is watching you.
Let me see you sway the way I love you to.
You’re so beautiful when you move it all,
I just have to sigh and smile and laugh inside.
Makes me want to sing a silly song.

[Ba-da-ba-dap, etc.]

Dance for me now, no one else is watching you.
Let me see you sway the way I love you to.
You’re so beautiful when you move it all,
I can’t help but sigh and smile and sing out loud.

Words for our music, they come and go,
But our tune is always amazing, so
Shake and shimmy your body, just let it go,
And maybe you’ll even let me dance along.

[Ba-da-ba-dap, etc.]

Dr. Tom

Dance Along

German-American composer Tom Schnauber is a co-founder of the Boston-based arts organization WordSong, and a former co-president of Composers in Red Sneakers (Boston).  He has also studied French horn performance, ethnomusicology, and did a small stint in Hollywood scoring films no one will ever see.  A versatile composer, Schnauber enjoys writing for a variety of ensembles, including unaccompanied instruments, chamber ensembles, solo voice and vocal ensembles, string orchestra, and symphony orchestra.  He also writes for various theatrical and musical productions.  His music has been performed throughout the United States and Europe.  Schnauber’s CD Death and Waltzes, recorded by the Russian String Orchestra, was released on the Quartz label in 2017.

Tom Schnauber

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