Jessye Norman and Irwin Gage in recital, Florence, 1971

Jessye Norman, soprano; Irwin Gage, piano
Recital, Maggio Musicale Fiorentino
Florence, Italy, 12 May 1971

Henry Purcell. Dido and Aeneas
Dido’s lament (0:00)

Richard Wagner. Wesendonck-Lieder
Der Engel (4:55)
Stehe still (7:42)
Im Treibhaus (11:28)
Schmerzen (17:32)
Träume (19:40)

Gustav Mahler. Rückert-Lieder
Ich atmet' einen Lindenduft (24:37)
Liebst du um Schönheit (27:13)
Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen (29:59)

Maurice Ravel
Sainte (36:52)

Maurice Ravel. Deux mélodies hébraïques
L'énigme éternelle (38:41)
Kaddisch (40:14)

Spirituals
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child (45:24)
My Lord, what a morning (48:28)
Oh what a beautiful city (51:51)
There is a balm in Gilead (53:35)
Every time I feel the Spirit (56:30)

Hugo Wolf. Mörike-Lieder
Er ist's (58:38)

Claude Debussy
Beau soir (1:00:05)
—————-
From Schuyler Chapin’s memoir “Leonard Bernstein: Notes from a Friend”—

I took the opportunity to arrange an audition for a young American dramatic soprano who was willy-nilly determined to sing for the maestro. The young lady had already arrived in Vienna and made it plain that she had no intention of leaving until she was heard.
 
At the appointed time, into the chorus room walked a large, intimidating woman, regal and assured, followed by a short man who was obviously her accompanist. As she advanced toward the piano it was impossible to get any sense of her other than her towering size and fiercely handsome face. Lenny and I looked at each other in disbelief, but before we could say anything she announced that she would start with Elisabeth’s great aria “Dich teure Halle” from Tannhäuser. Her voice rang out with such power and musicality that we were stunned. When she came to the last line, “Du teure Halle, sei mir gegrüsst,” the walls vibrated with her conviction. Before we could make any comments, she announced that she would continue with the “Liebestod” from Tristan und Isolde. “Mild und leise wie er lächelt” floated into the room, sure, compelling, and deeply moving. Finishing, she barely took a breath before lauching into the Götterdämmerung Immolation Scene. At the end, as the ringing tones of the stirring last lines “Sigefried! Siegfried! Sieh! Selig grüsst dich dein Weib!” died away, we sat in absolute silence.
 
Appearing to be no more exhausted than if she’d just sung a few nursery rhymes, our queenly visitor picked up her music, thanked the pianist, who looked as bewildered as we felt, and started toward the door. Lenny ran after her. “Wait, wait,” he called, “sit a moment and let’s talk.”
 
“Thank you, Maestro,” she replied, “but I’ve a train to catch. I just wanted you to hear me. Someday I hope we work together.” She put out her hand to say good-bye.
 
After she left, Lenny asked: “Who was that INCREDIBLE woman?”
 
I couldn’t remember her name and, scrounging through my pockets to find some notes, finally pulled out Harry’s letter. “Her name is Jessye Norman,” I read aloud.