So what exactly is the problem?
Amanda Hardy, a talented and gifted mezzo-soprano, suffered from strange visions and vibes ever since the tour began. First there were those odd dreams, then the visions that she had performed this song before but as someone else. No, she never heard the person of her dreams actually sing, but there were fuzzy visions set to the words. Just what those visions were Amanda could not identify, for they were fuzzy, shapeless. Nevertheless, Amanda performed her piece, chalking those disturbing dreams as symptoms of acute exhaustion. After all, it was a long tour, nearly three months of non-stop performing. When one recital ended, it was off to another city, another performance, and the necessary rehearsal in-between. She insisted that, after this recital, it's no more touring for at least six months. Of course, Kevin Williams, her manager as well as fiancé, completely understood and even suggested Amanda find a therapist to help her deal with those frightening visions. Not that Kevin was totally concerned about those dreams and vibes per se, he just wanted her to rest up for an upcoming summer tour. Good old Kevin, always thinking about business.
The curtain parted, and Robbie and Debora, the violist, were already onstage. Taking the cue, Amanda strode onstage, greeting her accompanists, then responded to the audience's thunderous applause with smiles. She was a beautiful woman to behold. Just shy of 5'6", curvy, olive complexioned, dark-haired, and brown-eyed, Amanda's good looks were just as legendary as her spectacular voice. For this recital, a special holiday performance, Amanda wore a stunning ball gown of deep purple velvet. The voluminous skirt and sweetheart bodice were indeed quite flattering. At her throat glittered a diamond necklace that Kevin had given as an early Christmas gift. She looked every inch the diva, but never did she have 'diva' qualities. Amanda was selfless, loving, compassionate. Not once did she give in to fits of rage or demanded special treatment simply because she was one of the best bel canto singers in the world. Despite the many gold records, Grammies, magazine articles, photo ops, and accolades from adoring fans, Amanda was still very much the down-to-earth small town girl. She had the good fortune of being plucked from the high school chorus and encouraged to pursue a solo career. While not quite opera material – and Amanda never quite wanted a career in opera – her voice was powerful and enchanting enough for Broadway. In fact, Amanda did win many secondary roles in notable Broadway and off-Broadway productions, but her bel canto style not quite captured the "popish" edge that so many producers wanted. She came oh-so close to clinching a lead role in a musical drama – a Broadway rendition of Jane Eyre – but that venture fell through due to lack of investors. So Amanda resigned herself to supporting roles, recording, and touring. It paid the bills.
Facing her audience, Amanda gave Robbie the cue. Starting her set, she sang several holiday-themed favorites, ranging from time-honored carols and secular Christmas fare to well-known Messiah arias. The entire recital lasted for about an hour, with a break in-between where Robbie and Debora serenaded the audience with a lovely duet. When Amanda took centerstage again, she performed her last song: Sacred Lullaby.
The viola waxed pensively in its somber alto while the piano echoed the
haunting, soothing introduction. Amanda, taking a deep breath, began to
sing:
(English translation)The audience listened in hushed rapture, totally mesmerized by Amanda's deep, soaring mezzo-soprano. Not a twinkling, sparkling voice one would expect from her more higher-registered soprano sisters, but a voice that could touch the soul with its dark, throaty timbre. Amanda lost herself in the song, thrilling at every word, for every word meant so much. It was a song of the Virgin Mary beseeching the trees to quiet down as not to awaken the newborn Christ Child. And why should the trees and wind have the nerve to rustle so on this holiest of all nights?
O you who hover about these palms
in night and wind:
you holy angels, quiet the treetops!
My child sleeps
You palms of Bethlehem in
the stormy wind
how can you roar so angrily today?
Rustle like that no more!
Be silent, bend down softly and gently
Quiet the treetops! Quiet the treetops!
My child sleeps
It happened again, just like the last time, but more intensely. Just at this
part of the song, Amanda began to have those odd visions and vibes. She could
plainly see, although it didn't quite disturb or mar her performance, the dense
forest, the expansive meadow, the nearby lake sparkling in the fading light of
day. But she couldn't make out those figures! Who are those people so deeply
etched in her mind? Although the scenery was clearly visible, the people were
not. Why oh why can't I make out their faces?, Amanda thought as she sang this
next verse:
The child of Heaven suffers hardship;
ah, how wearied He was by suffering of the world!
Ah, the quiet of sleep,
the pain gently melts away.
Quiet the treetops! Quiet the treetops!
My child sleeps
******
In the quiet of valley, a mother gently cares for her yet
to be born children. How attentive she is. She notices a few squawking birds
overhead and quells them with a sharp glare. No one and nothing dares disturbs
her children, even if they have yet to be born. She needs to speak no words;
they are written upon her heart. The wind gently rustles the treetops, and she
wishes within her heart for all noise to cease. The tiniest sound could
otherwise disturb this peaceful scene. She fight for her children's very
survival; she fights for her own. Enemies are concealed within the density of
the forest, and they can strike at any time. O, how much we suffer from the
predators of the world. I beseech you, the spirits of the wind, quiet! My
children sleep, and have yet to bear the sorrows of the world of which they
certainly will. The winds die down, the trees quiet their rustling, the sun finally says its
farewells to another day. For now, peace reigns supreme, but for how long? How
long before the world's cruelty manifests itself, endangering my children and
our very survival?
Fierce cold winds rush toward us;
but how shall I shelter
the little child's limbs?
O all you angels, borne on your wings by the
wind,
Quiet the treetops! Quiet the treetops!
My child
sleeps†
******
As always, at the song's end, Amanda trembled deep inside. For the life of
her, she never knew WHY those visions came to her, especially while performing
this particular song. She stood in complete silent, never moving a muscle, as
piano and viola played out the closing melodies. The audience bursts in
thunderous applause and shouts of "Bravo!"
Amanda takes her bows and gratefully
accepts the bouquet of roses. She is all smiles as she acknowledges her
accompanists. But deep inside, she was a jangle of nerves and unanswered
questions. This latest vision was certainly more disturbing than before, and she
knew she had to seek out help. But from where? From who? Amanda, while not the
sort to wholly believe in psychic phenomena, had to know one way or the other:
Why am I feeling this way?
******
All during the post-recital reception, Amanda was pleasant, conversing with the many specially invited music lovers. So many well-heeled patrons of the arts paid her the utmost compliments. She was asked, "When is your next tour?"; "Are you starring in another theatrical production?"; "Do you favor Brahms over Schumann?".
The questions were non-stop, and Amanda, although she acknowledged that these people were in fact her bread and butter, wished for that quiet moment where she can finish the year in solitude. The exhaustion had yet to manifest itself, but it would if Amanda failed to put her foot down. Kevin would just have to understand. No more touring and recording until she got to the bottom of these strange vibes. Then, right there in middle of a conversation with a very astute music-loving lady, Amanda experienced it again, that same scene by a lake, only this time the forms began to take shape.
What she saw in her mind's eye was quite unsettling.
Copyright©2004 by P.R. Parker. All rights reserved.
†Sacred Lullaby lyrics taken from RCA Red Seal CD. Brahms Two Viola Sonatas and Two Songs for Viola, Piano, and Contralto. Pinchas Zuckerman, viola. Marilyn Horne, vocals. Copyright©1994 RCA. The CD is still available thru Amazon, where I got mine. :-)