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Night Voices (2020) Music by Leila Lustig (Premiere) 1. Advice from a bat (poem by Michael T. Young) 2. Crickets (poem by Sue Owen) 3. Dark Shape (poem by Leila Lustig) William George, tenor Dorothea Hayley, soprano Melanie Adams, mezzo-soprano Sarah Kwok, violin Two of the songs in this cycle were inspired by the poetry of Michael T. Young and Sue Owen. I used my own poem to complete the group. In Advice from a bat,”the violin portrays the sounds of the bat’s flight, while the singer delivers the bat’s advice. In Crickets, the violin is the singing cricket, while the singer describes how the cricket’s voice sounds to them. The violin represents the Dark Shape as the song begins, while the singer describes seeing it outside the window at first light; only at the end of the song does the singer reveal what the shape actually is. ~ Leila Lustig Advice to a Bat (Michael T. Young) Hunt only at night. Fly erratically. Defy even your own expectations. Feed on beetles, moths and mosquitoes, whatever is small and annoying. Cultivate the myths about you until every predator fears your legend. When hunting, be guided by a language only you can hear. The same is true when courting the one you love. Clean fangs and fur nightly. Crawl or climb to confuse the observant. Retreat to a cave no one believes in. Let the day and the world pass while you sleep, and sleep upside down, ready to wake and fall into flight. Crickets (Sue Owen) Some summer nights you can hear them getting all worked up over this idea of cheerfulness and song. Deep in the grasses where they hide, there is a need to be heard in the darkness, even if their voices are so small they sound like a door creaking on its hinge, or the squeak a drawer makes when it opens up at last. It seems as if the damp air and dew are trying to hold their song down out of sheer gravity, but neither dampness nor darkness makes them stop. In fact, the crickets like to show off their song, to let it lift up off the earth, the way that all notes rise to the stars, and float up through the thick night, as if their joy itself were the only light we needed to follow. Dark Shape (Leila S. Lustig) Dark shape framed by first light in my window, Who are you? Hunched like Quasimodo, behind that back-lit scrim you balance with balletic nerve upon a twig too fine for any finch, A tilting weather vane above the waking housetops, making mental notes of anything below that might be edible. Who are you, shadow shape, portentous player on the forestage of my morning thoughts? Just as I pause to wonder, you rise to go, and flapping out of frame call out your name: “Crow! Crow! Crow!”