Jury Recitals at Agnes Scott, and many other music conservatories, are like a music student’s final exams. At the end of each semester, music students prepare one pieces to show case in recitals that last anywhere between 1-3 days. Full-time faculty and studio professors, listen to the performances and provide each student with written feedback about their performance. These are different from our Recital Hours, which are held monthly. For Recital Hour, students usually prepare just one piece for a recital that lasts one hour, once a month.
These recitals have been a wonderful way to measure and evaluate your progress as a musician. As a Nanette Hopkins Music scholar, I take each opportunity to perform very seriously. Before these recitals, Professor James holds masterclasses, pre-recital workshops that include a peer review process. It is a great deal of fun to listen to my peers showcase their work and see how much they grow; going to masterclasses and holding monthly recitals helps to bond us together as music students. Enjoy a few samples from my past Jury Recitals and Recital Hour performances!
“Un Moto di Goia” from Le Nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro) by W. A. Mozart (1751-1791); Accompanist: Dr. Wooyoung Kwon
Lyrics (Italian):
Un moto di gioia
Mi sento nel petto,
Che annunzia diletto
In mezzo il timor!
Speriam che in contento
Finisca l’affanno
Non sempre è tiranno
Il fato ed amor.
Di pianti di pene
Ognor non si pasce,
Talvolta poi nasce
Il ben dal dolor:
E quando si crede
Più grave il periglio,
Brillare si vede
La calma maggior.
An emotion of joy
I feel in my heart
that says happiness is coming
in spite of my fears.
Let us hope that the worry
will end in contentment.
Fate and love are
not always tyrants.
From weeping, from pain
one cannot always live
Sometimes then is born
a good thing out of sorrow.
And when one believes
the danger is greatest,
one sees shining
a greater calm.
“Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal” by Roger Quilter, words by Tennyson; Accompanist: Dr. Wooyoung Kwon
Lyrics:
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porph’ry font.
The firefly wakens; waken thou with me.
Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake.
So fold thyself, me dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.
