Gendarmes' Duet

When I was finding information about Jacques Offenbach yesterday, the most surprising thing I learned was that the United States Marine Corps Hymn ("From the halls of Montezuma...") takes its melody from a song in his operetta Geneviève de Brabant. It seemed like a big cognitive disconnect: this macho, All-American song really comes from a French comic opera? I'm sure certain members of our armed forces would be surprised to know that!

Moreover, I thought, knowing a little about Offenbach, it wouldn't surprise me if the original lyrics to his tune were satirical or anti-military, instead of straightforwardly patriotic. So today I did a little sleuthing: I located the score of Geneviève de Brabant in the music library here at Vassar. It was an old, old book, and on its flyleaf someone had written "Offert à ma soeur chérie, 9 avril 1868" (Given to my dear sister, April 9 1868). This was just a few months after the operetta had premiered! The frontispiece is a line drawing of two soldiers, because the hit song, which became the Marine Corps hymn, was the "Gendarmes' Duet." (Discoveries like these are why I love the Vassar library--and why I ought to take advantage of it while I still can!)

The Gendarmes' Duet comes in the second act. Its authentic French title is "Couplets des deux hommes d'arms" (Song of two men-at-arms). The characters are Grabuge, a sergeant, sung by a "comic baritone," and Pitou, a "simple gunner," sung by a "comic tenor." Here are the French lyrics, and then my translation.

G: Protéger le repos des villes
P: Courir sus aux mauvais garçons
G: Ne parler qu'à des imbéciles
P: En voir de toutes les façons
G: Un peu de calme après vous charme
P: C'est assez calme ici, sergent!

G: Ah, qu'il est beau...
P: Ah, qu'il est beau...
G: D'être homme d'arme...
P: D'être homme d'arme
Mais que c'est un sort exigeant!
G: Ah, qu'il est beau...
P: Ah, qu'il est beau...
G & P: D'être homme d'arme!
Mais c'est un sort exigeant!

G: Ne pas jamais ôter ses cottes
P: C'est bien penible, en vérité
G: Dormir apres de longues trottes
P: Rêver, c'est la félicité
G: Sentir la violette de Parme
P: Vous me comblez, ô mon sergent!

G: Ah qu'il est beau... (etc)
----------------------------
G: To keep the peace in towns
P: To run after naughty boys
G: To speak only to imbeciles
P: To see them in every way
G: A bit of calm afterwards is charming
P: It's pretty calm here, sergeant!

G: Oh, it's so nice...
P: Oh, it's so nice...
G: To be a man-at-arms...
P: To be a man-at-arms...
But it's a demanding life!
G: Oh, it's so nice...
P: Oh, it's so nice...
G: To be a man-at arms
G & P: To be a man-at-arms
But it's a demanding life!

G: Never to risk your neck
P: That's quite painful, in truth
G: To sleep after a long march
P: To dream, that's happiness
G: To smell Parma violets
P: You overwhelm me, oh my sergeant!

G: Oh, it's so nice... (etc.)

So, as I thought... definitely satirical. I forgot to mention that there's a note on the music that Pitou should sing in "voix de tête," which means "head voice"...so if he's meant to sing falsetto, that just makes it even funnier. And more satiric. And less the image that the Marines want to portray. The men-at-arms here are lazy, have nothing to do, are self-satisfied and smug. And there's more than a hint of effeminacy/homoeroticism in the last lines, where Grabuge dreams of smelling Parma violets and Pitou replies ecstatically "You overwhelm me!"

I mean no disrespect to our armed forces by undertaking this investigation, but I'm the kind of person who tends to be skeptical about big ideas like God or America or The Army. So when I read a Marine writing that "The Marine Corps is Valhalla for Warriors. U.S. Marines need no song. They have a hymn" and "When you have attained absolute perfection, there is no need for further modification" (reference), my first instinct is to cut him down a little. To tell him that the Marine Hymn was not created by God, but by a French-German-Jewish composer for a pleasant little operetta--and it's meant to satirize military music. I get the same way whenever I hear people rhapsodize about the "beauty" of "The Star-Spangled Banner." "It began as a drinking song!" I want to shout at them--which explains why it is so damn hard to sing, as well as the rather wheezing melody. Just because I love my country doesn't mean I have to thrill to every one of its patriotic symbols.

Offenbach in the offing

Late last fall, I was inspired to write a kind of fake operatic aria. I had been in the library watching a DVD of Eugene Onegin for my Opera course, and when I came outside I was so full of the beauty of Tchaikovsky's melodies and the crisp-crystalline night that I had to sing about it. Because arias ought to be in a foreign language, I began composing in French. I wanted some introductory lines about the cold night, but the first part of the song that came to me was a big, swooping, romantic chorus:

Mais j'ai un coeur amoureux
Qui brûle comme le feu!
Et la brise froide
Touche ma peau
Mais moi, j'ai chaud!

(But I have a loving heart
That burns like fire!
And the cold breeze
Touches my skin
But I'm warm!)

The lines preceding this section did not come as easily, either in their words or their music. But eventually I came up with this, set to a gently rocking melody that contrasted with the grander music I had already written:

La terre est sous une couche de givre
La nuit tombe si tôt
Aucune feuille ne peut plus vivre
Les branches rassemblent aux os

(The earth is beneath a layer of frost
Night falls so soon
No leaf can live any longer
The branches look like bones)

Soon after, though, I discovered a Plagiarism Mystery! I went to see a play and during one of the scene changes they played an aria whose tune sounded very similar to my "La terre est sous une couche" tune. Moreover, I felt like I'd heard the song before--that it was very famous and I'd subconsciously recalled it while writing my own song. But I couldn't really go up to the director afterwards and say "What aria was that?" I figured, if it was so famous, I'd eventually discover what it was. And indeed, I heard it on TV or in a movie another time over the past year; but I couldn't make out any of the lyrics or find other clues.

Last night, though, I finally figured out the answer. I'd ripped off the "Barcarolle" from The Tales of Hoffmann by Jacques Offenbach!



Hei-Kyung Hong and Jennifer Larmore singing the "Barcarolle." The first part, from where the mezzo starts singing to when the soprano joins in, is virtually identical to my song. Fortunately they differ after that!

I'm pretty embarrassed now, since it's a very well-known piece of music. But it's also beautiful, and it adds evidence to my new theory that Offenbach is a better composer than anyone ever gives him credit for. He had a great skill for writing catchy melodies that also perfectly suit the mood and the text. For instance, the Barcarolle is about a "belle nuit, o nuit d'amour" (beautiful night of love), and so is the song that I wrote. The music sounds like nighttime--I can't explain it any other way--it simply cries to be set to lyrics about nighttime and love, not about daytime.

Since discovering Natalie Dessay's rendition(s) of "Les oiseaux dans la charmille" I've had the song stuck in my head frequently, despite not being able to sing it at all. Dessay also does a hilarious version of the "Fly Duet" from Orpheus in the Underworld, with her real-life husband, Laurent Naouri (he plays Jupiter, transforming himself into a fly to woo Eurydice).



Then there's the famous Can-Can from the same operetta, whose actual title is "Infernal Gallop." Doesn't it just sound like an infernal gallop, especially when all the brass instruments come in? Doesn't "Les oiseaux" sound just like a mechanical doll, and the "Fly Duet" just like a fly? Since Offenbach wrote comic operas, his librettists gave him all these outrageous situations to work with--and he rose to the occasion splendidly. So splendidly that I ripped him off! (the sincerest form of flattery?)

Voila La Chanson Mignonne

I've had a lot of homework this week, and in my spare time (that is, the time I ought to be doing homework), I've been watching opera videos on YouTube. Hey, at least I'm learning something! Can't explain why I've been bitten by the opera bug just now, but I'm letting it take its course.

I took voice lessons during high school (and am kind of regretting giving them up) but still don't know enough about the nuances of opera singing to play favorites based on vocal quality. These are world-class singers--they all sound pretty great to me! So, especially when I can watch videorecordings of singers, I find myself preferring the ones with the best acting skills. Here are some of my discoveries.

The great Maria Callas's fame derives in large part from her acting. It's generally agreed that she may not have had the most perfect voice, but in performance she was a wholly captivating actress. I couldn't find too many Callas videos on YouTube, but this, her version of "Una voce poco fa" from The Barber of Seville, shows how she got her reputation. She makes a great Rosina: feisty but warm, with great comic timing.



One of my housemates is learning the beautiful "Song to the Moon" from Dvorak's Rusalka for her voice lessons. This is Renée Fleming's signature aria and this video shows why: when she performs it, every note and gesture is filled with the palpable yearning that the song requires.



But my favorite discovery, so far, has been the French soprano Natalie Dessay, who just opened the Metropolitan Opera season as Lucia di Lammermoor. Dessay (or her press agent) has made a niche for herself as "the coloratura who acts." The roles she plays have traditionally required nothing more than an agile and pure high soprano voice, but she adds psychological complexity that justifies every note she sings. Originally trained as an actress, she is known for her humor and her highly physical interpretations. And she has a truly gorgeous coloratura voice--I am in awe of her ability to sing high notes pianissimo!

To get a sense of her acting ability, compare these two performances in the role of Olympia, the mechanical singing doll from The Tales of Hoffmann. In the first, she is cute and funny and seems about 8 years old, moving just as you'd expect a little-girl doll to move. She even takes her bows in character! As well as coping with a blustery night and gigantic puppets:



In the second version, Dessay hits even more impressive notes and cadenzas, despite the tempo being a whole lot slower (and thus more difficult). Moreover, she portrays Olympia as a much more tragic, human figure--a fragile and nearly catatonic young woman, not a wind-up doll.



I don't even know of many stage actors who, playing the same role in two separate productions, would give two such different but equally committed and honest interpretations. Natalie Dessay is a truly modern and fearless performer--a rare thing in opera! If these videos have piqued your interest, there are plenty more where they came from--you won't be disappointed!