Having a Ball with Kenny

Kenny Ball
English trumpeter and jazz band leader
(22 May 1930 - 7 Mar 2013)

Kenny Ball and His Jazzmen (1962)

- "Vilia"
(Lehár; arr. Ball)

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Our Was a Love Song That Seemed Constant as the Moon

- Norrie Paramor
English-born orchestra conductor
arranger, pianist, and etc.
(15 May 1914 - 9 Sep 1979)

Norrie Paramor, piano
and orchestra
with Patricia Clark, soprano
(1960)

- "The Breeze and I"
(Stillman and Lecuona)

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Mother's Day

Birthdays of Peter and Johannes

(left):   Peter Tchaikovsky, Johannes Brahms

Tab 1 Feature:

7 May 2016
A Birthday Anniversary

Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky
Late Romantic Period Composer
(7 May 1840 - 6 November 1893)


Ronnie Aldrich
twin pianos
1971

- None But the Lonely Heart   3'27"
(P. Tchaikovsky)

~*~

Tab 2 Feature:

7 May 2016
A Birthday Anniversary

Johannes Brahms
Last of the Romantic Period Composer
(7 May 1833 - 3 April 1897)


The Climax Jazz Band
1982

- Brahms' Lullaby   4'00"
(J. Brahms)


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Birthdays of Note - Shaw and Harnick

- Robert Shaw, orchestra & choral director
(30 Apr 1916 - 25 Jan 1999)

- Sheldon Harnick, lyricist, "Sunrise, Sunset"
born: 30 Apr 1924

The Robert Shaw Chorale (1997)
- "Sunrise, Sunset" (Bock and Harnick)

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Now It Is May Again, and Sweeetly Clear

(Every 1 May, at 6am, the choir of the college (including boy choristers from nearby Magdalen College School (Oxford), and never women) sings two traditional hymns — the Hymnus Eucharisticus and "Now Is the Month of Maying" — to start the May Morning celebrations in Oxford. --Wikipedia)


May Morning

The rising sun shone warmly on the tower,
Into the clear pure Heaven the hymn aspired
Piercingly sweet. This was the morning hour
When life awoke with Spring’s creative power,
And the old City’s grey to gold was fired.

Silently reverent stood the noisy throng;
Under the bridge the boats in long array
Lay motionless. The choristers’ far song
Faded upon the breeze in echoes long.
Swiftly I left the bridge and rode away.

Straight to a little wood’s green heart I sped,
Where cowslips grew, beneath whose gold withdrawn
The fragrant earth peeped warm and richly red;
All trace of Winter’s chilling touch had fled,
And song-birds ushered in the year’s bright morn.

I had met Love not many days before,
And as in blissful mood I listening lay
None ever had of joy so full a store.
I thought that Spring must last for evermore,
For I was young and loved, and it was May.
. . . . . . . . . .

Now it is May again, and sweetly clear
Perhaps once more aspires the Latin hymn
From Magdalen tower, but not for me to hear.
I toil far distant, for a darker year
Shadows the century with menace grim.

I walk in ways where pain and sorrow dwell,
And ruin such as only War can bring,
Where each lives through his individual hell,
Fraught with remembered horror none can tell,
And no more is there glory in the Spring.

And I am worn with tears, for he I loved
Lies cold beneath the stricken sod of France;
Hope has forsaken me, by Death removed,
And Love that seemed so strong and gay has proved
A poor crushed thing, the toy of cruel Chance.

Often I wonder, as I grieve in vain,
If when the long, long future years creep slow,
And War and tears alike have ceased to reign,
I ever shall recapture, once again,
The mood of that May morning, long ago.

1st London General Hospital,
May 1916.
Vera Mary Brittain