In my analysis, I propose a motivic narrative that parallels the text. As part of this evaluation, I consider the song sketches for Haugtussa that were not included in Op. The sketchbook15 contains drafts—some of them only fragments—of twenty songs on Haugtussa poems. Many of the sketches can be identified either by titles or by the poem texts that Grieg added, but some are very difficult to discern.
The editors of volumes 14 and 15 of the GGA have done extensive work, identifying and reconstructing the Haugtussa sketches. They have also published six additional Haugtussa songs for the first time.
The editors have given us much valuable information with the publication of the Haugtussa sketches. They have included all of the poem titles found in the sketches as well as commentary on their findings. In addition to confirming that Grieg had worked on several Haugtussa songs not included in Op.
It is a brilliant book that has moved me deeply. The fourth chapter of this work is a motivic analysis of the song cycle. In addition, nearly all Grieg biographies refer to the motive as well.
Grieg himself also acknowledged his generous use of the motive, explaining that it has roots in the folk music of Norway. This dissertation looks at motive from a different perspective—not as an identifying marker or a stylistic device, but as an active participant in the musical narrative. I consider two main motives, exploring their interaction with one another as well as how motivic development and transformation results in a narrative path that musically parallels that of the text.
The motive always denotes love, but it has different connotations throughout the cycle. The semiotic square, as put forward by A. In the Haugtussa narrative, for example, love brings about contrary feelings of both joy and sorrow. Contradictory to joy and sorrow are not-sorrow and not-joy, expressed respectively as obsession and resignation. The semiotic square also provides a map of the narrative path of the song cycle.
See Figure 1. I use the original Norwegian texts in my examples and provide literal translations below the music to assure an accurate analysis of the relationship between words and music. This song cycle presents some inherent challenges to the analyst, the first of these being that the final, published opus is not what Grieg originally intended. This is clear from the number of incomplete sketches, from letters Grieg wrote to friends, and from the long period of time that elapsed between when Grieg first began work on Haugtussa and when he finally submitted the song cycle for publication.
He then set the work aside Kor Hevdet Seg - Herborg Kråkevik - Mi Haugtussa (CD) nearly three years, and the song cycle was not published until Beryl Foster makes an interesting but debatable claim regarding the Haugtussa songs and a possible reason for the long delay in publication. She mentions a Danish pianist, Bella Edwards, with whom Grieg corresponded from to Grieg expressed a romantic interest, but Edwards, apparently, did not return his affection. Nina Grieg sang the newly composed songs from Haugtussa and accompanied herself on the piano.
Both her voice and her brilliant interpretation moved me deeply. James Massengale gives, perhaps, the most plausible explanation for why Haugtussa was withheld from publication for three years.
He writes: 21 We have a one-sided picture of this relationship because Grieg burned the letters that Edwards wrote to him. The song cycle is not often performed in the United States, though there is reason to hope that this could change due to several encouraging developments during the last decade.
To begin with, the publication of the GGA, and the completion of volume 15 inhas provided an invaluable resource to singers. The new English translations are both singable and faithful to the original Norwegian.
Recent recordings of Haugtussa, most notably one by Swedish soprano Anne Sofie von Otter and one by Norwegian soprano Marianne Hirsti, are now available. These recordings are in the original language with English translations in the liner notes. Bradley Ellingboe has published an anthology of Grieg songs that includes Haugtussa.
Haugtussa is a masterwork and a song cycle of the highest quality. It deserves attention from performer and scholar alike. I hope that this dissertation will illuminate a work that is an essential part of the vocal performance canon in Scandinavia and encourage more study and performance of the song cycle outside of Norway.
For this reason, I provide here my own English summary. It is, insofar as is possible, a simple presentation of the content of the novel without analysis; I have endeavored to restrict commentary to the headings and footnotes.
The majority of the summary is an abridgement in prose style, but certain passages are direct translations. For example, for the prologue, I summarize the first five stanzas of the poem in the first paragraph, quoting only a few words. I quote the sixth stanza directly in the next paragraph then summarize the three that follow. Finally, I quote the last two stanzas directly. The novel consists of twelve unnumbered sections plus a prologue or preface, and most sections include several individual poems, also unnumbered.
I have numbered each section and each individual poem within sections for the ease and convenience of the reader. At the beginning of each poem, I give the Norwegian title with an English translation, and I also indicate who is speaking. Explanatory headings are included after the title and speaker information for many poems and at the beginning of some sections.
Prologue First line: Til deg, Kor Hevdet Seg - Herborg Kråkevik - Mi Haugtussa (CD), du heid og bleike myr [To you, heath and pale marsh] Speaker: Unnamed—generally understood to be Garborg himself.
He says he also knows of the painful struggle against the tyranny of the trolls, and he laments the loss of life. The poor spirit hovers around him and sits with him; it is as if, within the speaker himself, this poor spirit still struggles in its bonds. The speaker knows well what it is like to battle against the power of the trolls like a boat caught in the rapids. It is a rainy, windy autumn day, and Mons, the old cat, lies on a pillow under the stove and dreams.
Perhaps, she imagines, the dreams are old memories from the time when he was the most handsome prince in the world, thinking about the beautiful maiden who was picking berries. Then came the troll-witch. The prince jumped back, but the witch cast a spell on him and turned him into a cat, forever separating him from the maiden.
Snow is falling on a still, gray night. Goblins are out and elf songs can be heard. There is an old elf, a good spirit, guarding the barn. Once fed, the animals settle down for the night. The goblin comes with another small herd and dances with the cat.
One day on his way home, Helge is bewitched and loses his way. He wanders until he comes to a magnificent, opulent farm where everything glitters. The beautiful inhabitants all have pearls around their necks. He falls immediately for the daughter, and the wedding takes place that very night.
Helge is promised the farm when the father passes away. Once in the bridal bed, Helge realizes he 2 According to Norwegian folk legend, these elves lived on every farm and were helpful as long as people treated them well.
He is suddenly fearful, but he is laughing at the same time. He draws a knife, hears a shriek, and then everything grows dark and disappears. He awakens under a familiar ridge near his home—he is freezing and his head aches.
He looks up and sees the hulder, who has tears in her eyes. There are many in the hills who long for sun and daylight, but must waste away in the domain of goblins and gnomes. The sparrow flits happily around the farm picking grain and playing in the straw.
She is unafraid of any cat, but she hides when the hawk comes. Life is light and happy; she does not worry about getting enough to eat because there is a bountiful supply. When it gets cold, she finds shelter in the warm straw. When spring returns, she wings happily away and builds a nest out on the island. It is a foggy, mild night. All is dreamy, sleepy and quiet.
A soft, trembling song—a song like those of the Hill people—drifts in on the wind. His embrace is hot and his soul is mild, and he tames the angry bear. She sees her deceased sister standing at the end of the bed, wearing a shimmering, white garment.
You have the hardest fate that anyone can receive. You will see and discern those who hide themselves in the night. She warns her to be careful but says she will never be far away. The way will be slippery and dark, but after the difficult night will come the light of morning. A sigh is heard, but it quickly dies in the morning wind. There is frost in the corners of the house and on the wall.
Gamlemor5 sits reading a book and thinking. Young people sit around the stove roasting slices of apple or potato. She is thin, her clothes are worn, and she is bent and wrinkled. It has dragged itself up from the underworld. Shadows on the wall and a lifeless, blue light from the lantern lead her into painful thoughts.
She hears someone running as if it is a matter of life and death. She hears moaning, strangled breathing, a prayer, and something like a heartbeat. Gamlemor gets up, walks anxiously back and forth, crosses herself, and prays. Time goes slowly and seems to stop. It is dark and ugly out. A poor girl runs, nearly flying through the black heath, her spine cold with fear.
Oh, send her home in peace. She is pale and her eyes appear senseless. It is so ugly and black here. And on the heath, I saw something so strange. She is slender and dark with clean features, deep, gray eyes and an unassuming manner. She seems half asleep and has a calm peacefulness in her movements, speech and everything about her. Beneath her beautiful, low forehead, her eyes shine as if through a vapor, and she seems to be gazing into another world.
She takes the cup of milk and sits there, quietly lost and resigned. Only her breast moves quickly and heavily, and her mouth trembles. She is shaking, frail and weak, even though she is fair and young. She saw through a narrow rift into the other world. She saw him in the valley, glowing. It was as quiet as a grave, and it seemed as if the world had passed away. There was a throbbing in her ears. She knew him well and waited quietly. She ran, frightened, senseless, and confused until she reached home and found Gamlemor.
She adds, however, that she is glad for the memory. She trembled as she replied that since then she has seen all kinds of otherworldly beings. It would have been better if you had died; then you would find some peace in the earth.
From that time on, she saw trolls and ghosts and other underworld creatures. She often muttered dark words as she wandered, and at times, frightened her own mother. The people said she had lost her senses. Now she spent most of her time with her flocks between the three hills in the north. And from that time she was called Haugtussa.
The roads are wet with snow and mud, but the scene in the house is merry and boisterous. The young men and women are shy at first, but they are soon caught up in the festive atmosphere. The boys drink a little courage and become bolder. The girls respond with smirks and smiles and laughter.
They become more and more joyful, forgetting the cares of daily life. Their hearts pound and glow with love—these are times they will never forget. He will sit in the corner, laughing derisively as he watches. Suffering and murder will follow to the even greater delight of the devil. Then so many boys will suffer misfortune, and the girls will leave in shame and sorrow. Joy will turn to despair. Thus we must always make merry in the proper way and give praise to our Lord, who grants us life and grace.
The first section is a conversation between a young man and his dance partner and a description of their lively, flirtatious dance. Some are black, some are white, and each one is uglier than the one before. If only the others could see them and turn away from the evil.
The next several verses of this section describe the dancers and their accompanying ugly animal spirits. The next section seems to shift back and forth between the trolls and the people—both dances are rowdy and suggestive. He is a beautiful, blue mountain ogre with a gold ring around his flowing hair.
He reaches out his pale blue hand to her, and she trembles with anxiety. But just as she is about to kiss him, it suddenly appears as if he has a mouth like a rat. She prays to Jesus for salvation and peace and sinks back down onto the bench, unconscious. The wind howls and shrieks, and the ridges and meadows become white. He comes down from the mountain peaks with a snow hat on his closely cropped hair. He has flowers in his flaming hair, he plays on a flute, and he sings.
When it is warm and the sun shines, it is good to have fun. Then he sleeps his best sleep in the heather and awakens without tears. The cow wants to go home—it is so unpleasant out in the field on such a day. But the stacks are empty there this time of year—it would be better to find something where they are. Under the round hill, things are not so bad. Perhaps they could go there, and the hulder might even let them in for a while. She knows, after all, how they are suffering, those like her.
Water runs down her back, her feet are soaked, and there are holes in her socks. She is freezing, and soon she will be chilled to the bone. She will hurry home to mother where it is warm. Then she can change clothes and rest for a while, and the animals can have grain and something warm to drink.
The starling hops around like a happy child. His dark green feathers shine in the sun, and he is surely as fine as a pearl. The lark ascends higher and higher toward the clouds, and every time she chirps, the world becomes new again. The first stanza describes the rain and dew that cool the scorched earth and cover the burned hills and the wonderful scents that come from many fragrant plants.
There are thousands of fresh, lovely fragrances that flow into the air like balsam. A vapor of love and warmth wraps the earth. They are making their way north around marshes and ponds and through some treacherous land. On the marshy bottom, a man-eating serpent sleeps heavily, but on the hill the cattle graze, tasting the young tops of heather. Lambs dance around, then seek out their mothers.
As evening falls, the smoke makes a bewitching, dim haze. She sees things come to life and things awaken. She looks at the lovely grass bordering the fields and the beautiful herd. The herd lines up and begins the walk toward the mountain. The third Kor Hevdet Seg - Herborg Kråkevik - Mi Haugtussa (CD) is only four lines long, and it describes the nightfall. The fires grow dark and the clouds fade. The world, dreaming, listens, and there seems to be a song in the night.
She sings about the long time they have been at the home pasture—now they leave for the summer farm. The greenest grazing is in the mountains, and there the nights are cool. They are also sheltered on the mountain from fury and haste. She is safe and free there, and the giant seduces her—he has promised his whole mountain if she wants it, but she cannot imagine that awful troll as her husband. The hulder burns with love for that fair boy that she will never come to know, and she would gladly trade both form and sense for him.
The sun rises and sets, and winter draws near. Without a friend or a bridal bed, she wanders aimlessly. The fire of longing is painful and lingering, and the fair man never comes. This poem is a description of the sights, sounds and smells of the haying season. Verse one speaks of the song the scythe makes as it cuts the hay and the rustling sound of the boys walking through the fields.
The second verse describes the sweet smell of the newly cut hay. The perfume permeates both the hills and the town. It is the scent of summer. Verse three is a prayer for a successful crop, time to gather in the hay, and fast drying. Then they will not have to fear the coming autumn, and the Christmas celebration will be a happy one. Each verse of this poem ends with the phrase we know it is meant to be so. The girls spread the hay as the boys cut it. There is laughter and joking as they work.
Boys may be fine, but they become disagreeable when they grow up. Even though they may behave well at times, they can be like trolls. Nevertheless, most people head for the church to marry. The girls know that they have only trouble ahead, but still, none of them wants to stay single. Girls have fun while women have only drudgery, but they still do not understand.
Before she accepts the grief of marriage and the responsibility of children, she will have fun. Jokes and pranks aside, however, she cannot imagine kissing a beard. Waves are breaking on the northern coast; there are cold, blue clouds in the west, and the marsh sleeps, covered in fog. Down on a farm by the riverbank she sees a strange old man. She is terribly frightened and freezes in her tracks.
He screams and cries until his cries become a song. Part two is the tortured song of the man. Kor Hevdet Seg - Herborg Kråkevik - Mi Haugtussa (CD) that wretched piece of land, he cast away both peace and salvation.
They cannot face their friends, and they wander, broken. He acted without honor and moved the boundary marker—he broke his word and his faith, and now he will never find peace. The moon shines, and the frozen landscape twinkles like a thousand diamonds. She suddenly sees white maidens dancing—it is a dreamlike dance, kept in time by the chime of silver bells.
The maidens are made of blue air and wear dresses of moonlight embroidered with stardust. Their hair flows down over their backs like a silver-gray stream. They have never seen a warm day. They smile stiffly as they dance, and their features are cold and sleepy. Then the maidens bow as if in greeting and disappear in a frosty vapor. Will she soon go away and live on the island of ghosts and dead men? What do the pale moonlight maidens want with her? She walks in the cold wind but is burning inside, and she feels a painful sting.
She walks among the cows and lambs in confusion, forgetting everything. One Sunday, she goes with her mother to church, hoping that sacred words will ease her discouragement.
Mist and moisture drift in from the sea, and the clock sounds, muted by thick fog. She wanders slowly among the graves in the churchyard and sees a bone, which she takes. She clutches it to her breast carefully and with respect.
It will drive the evil forces away from her. She freezes and shivers then burns, and she is never able to sleep. As she lies there weary and confused, she hears a loud knock on the outside door. Three times she gets up, but she never sees anyone. He stands there staring, then hobbles over to her bed; he is dragging one leg.
Her throat tightens up. He stretches out his feeble arm, reaches toward her breast and touches the bone she took from the cemetery. It is mine! You broke the sanctity of the grave and stole my leg bone. She runs, crying, to Gamlemor and hides herself in the big bed. She must tell her everything. Now she can find peace; now she knows what to do. Soon she falls asleep. Once again, her terrible soul angst rises, and she pulls on her church clothes.
She wraps the bone in a linen cloth and hurries through mist and wind to the churchyard. There she digs a safe nest for the bone, but when she turns and reaches for the bone, it has disappeared. She stands there bewildered, searches and prays, but the bone and the cloth are gone.
She grows wild with fear, searching and digging until her fingers bleed under the nails. Then she hears a rustle in the corner of the churchyard, and she sees the gray elf shaking with laughter.
She stands alone in confused terror. Gamlemor takes care of her the best she can. She cries quietly and offers a prayer. Gamlemor begs God not to take Gislaug from her, as she is the only one left. Her son, who really was not very industrious, went to sea. Her oldest daughter went to the city and is now a prostitute. Her other daughter, Lisabet,19 died, and it nearly broke her heart. She has no more children left, and she asks God to be merciful and let her and Gislaug stay together in peace until she, herself, returns to heaven.
She struggles against ghosts and illusions and mumbles about moon maidens. Loose powers throng the earth, and the storm surges, closing all the roads and pathways. Wolves howl on the rocky slope with blood in their mouths, and a water sprite lies in wait under the ice. A pale sea spirit bends in the sea spray, mocking, shouting, and laughing coldly.
Now he will get everything. He will cover the seashores with corpses. Heaven, hills, and the gray knolls all disappear in mist. The mountains rumble and water boils up against the reef. The loose powers will destroy the earth, all creeping things retreat. Will life be extinguished and die? She sees terrible giants tumbling out of the mist, and she shudders.
They stagger around like shadows, their heads veiled by clouds. They will combine heaven and sea and everything into mire. One stands in the abyss of the sea churning it up from the bottom.
Another is in the north, blowing like a bellows with icy gusts—such a gaping mouth has never before been seen. Another stands in the far northwest, pulling in heavy clouds, and a giantess does her best to blow a snowdrift. They are trying to extinguish the sun. But the sun shines from above the clouds.
The trolls do not succeed despite all their fussing and terrible chants—but they can never seem to learn. The land that Gamlemor owns is such a nice little parcel, and he has had his eye on it for a long time. Now he can count just about everything as his own; he helped the widow [Gamlemor] many times by lending her money after her husband died.
The interest has accumulated, and now, as he had hoped, she will be forced to sell the farm at auction in the spring, and he will buy the property. Suddenly she is startled, and she stops her cries.
She sees something! I will take care of things. They wave their arms and strike the air with their fists. She sends a message to the priest. He can defeat the evil powers with his strong, holy words.
The priest stands before the bed; he knows these evil powers well, and anger burns in his heart. He reads from the holy book prayers and powerful oaths. There is a loud noise in the house. Gamlemor cries tears of joy; she knows the evil has retreated. Then the priest blesses her with his white hands; it does the heart good. Then he rides away. She has often seen it wrapped in ocean mist—a lovely, hallowed, unattainable home. The majestic mountain peaks sleep and dream, but at sunset they ignite.
When the day sinks like fire and blood in the blue moor, it flames up and glows in fairytale splendor. Then the flame dies like an extinguished ember, and the land lies in a peaceful evening blue. I am so blessed, now it is spring! She hears birdsong and watches the birds playing in the trees and the farmyard. The river runs quietly and envelops her like a flood of warmth. She is blessed to be so young. Her chest is tight, and she can hardly breathe.
It seems as if the dark powers are trying to take her again, it is as if the mountain winds want to engulf her. There is neither space nor air, but there are muffled echoes coming up from the canyons and crevices.
She looks around in alarm; it is so dark and desolate and still. She feels as if she is buried. He has been shepherding until now, but he is grown and will soon leave. He has a round face, thick, light-colored hair, a faint bit of hair on Kor Hevdet Seg - Herborg Kråkevik - Mi Haugtussa (CD) upper lip and white teeth.
He is high-spirited, and he sings and whistles as he hops effortlessly over stones and logs. She must also get to know the animals and let them become familiar with her. Jon is somewhere between boyhood and manhood, and he is smart and confident. He is not like those awful boys in town that have a kind of cold sneer. He addresses her plainly and politely, calling her by her name.
He shows her every hill and valley and tells her stories about the land. She asks, half in jest, if there are trolls here. He takes a book from his coat pocket and tells her that more than one man has seen trolls—it is written in the book. She knows today that a young man can, indeed, be a friend. Jon sits and sits and completely forgets to leave. He extends his hand with respect and listens as if bewitched while she tells him everything. Finally evening comes, and they must get to their duties.
She describes boulders, piles of stone and rocky slopes. Thankfully, she can turn and see the ocean. She asks a blessing on the sea and all the sailors and vessels on the water. Returning then to thoughts of the mountain, she muses that it looks as if a mob of plundering trolls had flung rocks and stones in every direction.
They must have fought with all their might against various gods and strong youths, falling with crashing sounds and breaking the mountain into pieces. Unearthly creatures also dominate the water. He will howl terribly when someone is about to drown. But thankfully, when I turn right around, I can find the ocean. Dolly is the only one who follows her on the mountainside, so at least she is not completely alone. She can imagine what Gamlemor is doing and what she is thinking about. Next she imagines her mother preparing food for the hay mowers.
Then she pictures her mother out in the farmyard and wants to be the sparrow that hops about happily at her feet. She even imagines that it would be nice if she could be the cool sea breeze that blows around her mother.
Everything is so new and unfamiliar and hard. It is as if there are cold eyes staring at her. There is no one that she can believe in up there, and there is no one like her mother. Time seems to stand still, and she counts every hour, every minute. She wishes she could leap with one giant stride and sit for just a short time with her mother. There is something good to be found on the mountain after all.
She will rest here and eat until she is full. She could, in fact, stay for days. Fideli-Bom-Bom Kanonsang. Finne lykken Trolls. Fotball e supert Ole Runar Engdal Gillebo. Friminutt Hogne Moe. Fruktkurvgutta Cheezy Keys. De dresserte elger. Happy X-mas War is over John Lennon. Hjem te jul Terje Nilsen. Hvorforsangen Krem Nasjonal. Ikke by'n med meg Trond Viggo Torgersen. Indranis sang Maj Britt Andersen.
Jeg vil bli klovn Hogne Moe. Jul i svingen Odd Nordstoga. Julen varer lenge Olsenbanden Jr. Kattemons Folk er rare. Klovnesang Hogne Moe. Kor e alle helter hen Jan Eggum. Levende lyd Halvdan Sivertsen. Mastom Mastom Tradisjonell persisk folkevise. Mitt hjerte alltid vanker Hans Adolph Brorson. Musical- potpurri Utdrag fra kjente musicals.
No livnar det i lundar Elias Blix. No ser eg atter slike fjell og dalar Aasmund O. Optimist Jahn Teigen. Pinnen i mitt liv Knerten. Postman Pat Barne-TV. Rocket Man Elton John. Rockin' around the christmas tree Johnny Marks.
Det finnes noen tester som sammenligner de to produktene som — i min definisjon — CD-spillere og hvor Linn er klart bedre vurdert. Kan det bli bedre? Ok, visse begrensninger er det. Rca, xlr, bnc, optisk…. Muligens med unntak av dypbassen som oppleves som noe diffus og utflytende. Som er lav nettopp fordi det er et dataprodukt og ikke et hifi-produkt. Uavhengig av den analoge volumkontrollen!! Lite fascinerende! Men som sagt — dette er et dataprodukt. Konklusjon Men Transporteren er et produkt man lett blir avhengig av.
Cantate Domino. Ny ioppgradert i til programvare versjon 1. Ny i nov. Ny i Her er PC og HD og utstyrsbenken under arbeidet med omtalen. Et Columbiegg!
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