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Henry Dehlinger

  • Beyond Earth
  • About
    • The Composer
    • Praise
    • Photos
    • Contact Us
  • News
    • Latest News
    • In the Press
  • Catalog
    • Film + Live Orchestra
    • Orchestral
    • Choral
    • Solo Vocal
    • Chamber & Instrumental
    • Band
    • Christmas & Holiday
  • Music
    • Audio
    • Video
    • Albums

Henry Dehlinger

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    A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight 3:10
    A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight
    by Kerry Wilkerson (bass-baritone), Henry Dehlinger (piano)

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A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight by Henry Dehlinger

LICENSING 
American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP)

RELATED RECORDINGS
At That Hour: Art Songs by Henry Dehlinger on Avie Records

WORLD PREMIERE
February 9, 2020, Harris Theater, George Mason University, Fairfax, VA

A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight (2019) - 3¼'
for high voice solo and piano, or
medium voice solo and piano


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COMPOSER'S NOTE

A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight underscores the anguish of aging and achieves its clarity of expression through its precise images. The “Players in the Mirror” likely refers to the English Players, a Zurich-based amateur theatrical company with which Joyce was involved during World War I.

It is available for high voice (soprano or tenor) and medium voice (mezzo-soprano or baritone). It is also part of my collection:

Ten Poems of James Joyce (High Voice & Piano)
Ten Poems of James Joyce (Medium Voice & Piano)

“The songs are diverse in atmosphere and harmonic language, as befits the narratives, and the writing is rich, often rapturous, as voices and piano meld with urgent purpose.”

— Donald Rosenberg, Gramophone

THE TEXT 

They mouth love’s language. Gnash 
The thirteen teeth 
Your lean jaws grin with. Lash 
Your itch and quailing, nude greed of the flesh. 
Love’s breath in you is stale, worded or sung, 
As sour as cat’s breath, 
Harsh of tongue. 

This grey that stares 
Lies not, stark skin and bone. 
Leave greasy lips their kissing. None 
Will choose her what you see to mouth upon. 
Dire hunger holds his hour. 
Pluck forth your heart, saltblood, a fruit of tears: 
Pluck and devour! 

James Joyce, 1882 - 1941

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