Elise Brancheau, vocalist Martin Néron, pianist "Bill" from Show Boat Music by Jerome Kern Text by Oscar Hammerstein II & P. G. Wodehouse Presented by the Federation of Art Song on August 31, 2024

"Bone Needles: A Working Song for Two Voices" Composed by: Gilda Lyons Performed by: Elise Brancheau Video by: Elise Brancheau This video performance was first streamed on July 10, 2021 as part of the N.E.O. Voice Festival.

Elise Brancheau performs four Poulenc songs, each setting poetry by Louise de Vilmorin, with pianist Martin Néron. Presented as part of the Redeemer Concert Series: Poulenc & Friends, featuring the Vocalis Consort & Friends - January 15, Redeemer Episcopal Church, Astoria, NY.

Elise Brancheau, vocalist Martin Néron, pianist "All the Things You Are" from Very Warm for May Music by Jerome Kern Text by Oscar Hammerstein II Presented by the Federation of Art Song on August 31, 2024

"Only Air" memorializes the suicides of a score of gay teenagers in September & October of 2010, including Seth Walsh, age 13; Asher Brown, age 13; Tyler Clementi, age 18; Justin Aaberg, age 15; and Zach Harrington, age 19. "I see the piece as the orchestral equivalent to an It Gets Better Video, in part because it memorializes these tragic deaths, but also because I myself was bullied and harassed when I was these boys' ages, and could just as easily have ended up one of the countless senseless suicides that claim so many young gay men and women. This is my testament that it does, in fact, get better." - Dennis Tobenski Conductor/Composer: Dennis Tobenski Librettist: Kathryn Levy Soprano: Elise Brancheau Flute: Sara Berger Clarinet: Jared Field Violin: Clare Semes Cello: Jihwon Na Piano: Joanna Huang Percussion: Jessica Tsang Recording by Jason Pomerantz Take oh take those arms away that hurt me in the dark when they aren’t there the eyes that don’t watch as I cross the street caress a leaf –it is dead already take the voice away that refuses to mutter I love when you bend to capture those leaves that can’t be caught I almost felt you shudder this morning as I dreamed of death –diving from a roof silently the watch cracked the time is forever 3 p.m. and the ones who were loved almost to the end cherish that watch cherish the hour he climbed the stairs –did he climb? looked down at the crowds –did he bother to look? thought to himself –was there any time to think? Now I will be only air which is too easy no one can be only air no one can stop that figure falling much too fast–please take away your body I can’t catch Produced by The Secret Opera www.thesecretopera.com

Elise Brancheau, vocalist Martin Néron, pianist "Waterbird" Music by Richard Hundley Text by James Purdy Presented by the Federation of Art Song on August 31, 2024

Vocalist Elise Brancheau performs a cover of Joni Mitchell's "Song to a Seagull" with John Orluk Lacombe on theorbo. The performance was featured on Crossing Genres, a lecture recital curated by Dr. Christopher Sierra at The College of New Jersey on March 2, 2019. The program for Crossing Genres can be found here: shorturl.at/ejmnX #JoniMitchell #SongToASeagull #Theorbo

Elise Brancheau, vocalist Martin Néron, pianist "Till There Was You" from The Music Man Music & Lyrics by Meredith Willson Presented by the Federation of Art Song on August 31, 2024

Elise Brancheau (soprano) and Oh Hyun Kwon (violist) perform Bob Dylan's "Farewell, Angelina," arranged by Melissa Dunphy, at the First Reformed Church of New Brunswick on May 11, 2019. *** Farewell, Angelina, the bells of the crown Are being stolen by bandits, I must follow the sound The triangle tingles and the trumpets play slow Farewell, Angelina, the sky is on fire and I must go There’s no need for anger, there’s no need for blame There’s nothing to prove, everything’s still the same Just a table standing empty by the edge of the sea Means farewell, Angelina, the sky is trembling and I must leave The jacks and queens have forsaked the courtyard Fifty-two gypsies, now file past the guards In the space where the deuce and the ace once ran wild Farewell, Angelina, the sky is falling, I’ll see you in a while See the cross-eyed pirates sitting perched in the sun Shooting tin cans with a sawed-off shotgun And the neighbors they clap and they cheer with each blast But farewell, Angelina, the sky’s changing color and I must leave fast King Kong, little elves on the rooftops they dance Valentino-type tangos while the make-up man’s hands Shut the eyes of the dead not to embarrass anyone But farewell, Angelina, the sky is embarrassed and I must be gone The machine guns are roaring, the puppets heave rocks The fiends nail time bombs to the hands of the clocks Call me any name you like, I will never deny it But farewell, Angelina, the sky is erupting, I must go where it’s quiet

A medley of Rodgers and Hammerstein musical selections featuring Elise Brancheau, Bridgette Gan, Scott Johnson, and Dr. Christopher Sierra on vocals, and Dr. Martin Néron on piano. The performance was featured on Crossing Genres, a lecture recital curated by Dr. Christopher Sierra at The College of New Jersey on March 2, 2019.

Elise Brancheau (soprano) and Kathryn Sloat (harpist) perform Britten's Canticle V: "The Death of Saint Narcissus" at the First Reformed Church of New Brunswick on May 11, 2019. *** Music by Benjamin Britten (1913–1976) Poetry by T. S. Eliot (1888–1965) Come under the shadow of this gray rock – Come in under the shadow of this gray rock, And I will show you something different from either Your shadow sprawling over the sand at daybreak, or Your shadow leaping behind the fire against the red rock: I will show you his bloody cloth and limbs And the gray shadow on his lips. He walked once between the sea and the high cliffs When the wind made him aware of his limbs smoothly passing each other And of his arms crossed over his breast. When he walked over the meadows He was stifled and soothed by his own rhythm. By the river His eyes were aware of the pointed corners of his eyes And his hands aware of the pointed tips of his fingers. Struck down by such knowledge He could not live men’s ways, but became a dancer before God. If he walked in city streets He seemed to tread on faces, convulsive thighs and knees. So he came out under the rock. First he was sure that he had been a tree, Twisting its branches among each other And tangling its roots among each other. Then he knew that he had been a fish With slippery white belly held tight in his own fingers, Writhing in his own clutch, his ancient beauty Caught fast in the pink tips of his new beauty. Then he had been a young girl Caught in the woods by a drunken old man Knowing at the end the taste of his own whiteness, The horror of his own smoothness, And he felt drunken and old. So he became a dancer to God, Because his flesh was in love with the burning arrows He danced on the hot sand Until the arrows came. As he embraced them his white skin surrendered itself to the redness of blood, and satisfied him. Now he is green, dry and stained With the shadow in his mouth.

Vocalist Elise Brancheau performs a cover of Joni Mitchell's "California" with John Orluk Lacombe on guitar. The performance was featured on Crossing Genres, a lecture recital curated by Dr. Christopher Sierra at The College of New Jersey on March 2, 2019. The program for Crossing Genres can be found here: shorturl.at/ejmnX

Elise Brancheau (soprano) and Martin Néron (pianist) perform Britten's Cantcile I: "My Beloved Is Mine" at the First Reformed Church of New Brunswick on May 11, 2019. *** Music by Benjamin Britten (1913–1976) Poetry by Francis Quarles (1592–1644) Ev’n like two little bank-dividing brooks, That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams, And having rang’d and search’d a thousand nooks, Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames, Where in a greater current they conjoin: So I my best-beloved’s am; so he is mine. Ev’n so we met; and after long pursuit, Ev’n so we joyn’d; we both became entire; No need for either to renew a suit, For I was flax and he was flames of fire: Our firm-united souls did more than twine; So I my best-beloved’s am; so he is mine. If all those glitt’ring Monarchs that command The servile quarters of this earthly ball, Should tender, in exchange, their shares of land, I would not change my fortunes for them all: Their wealth is but a counter to my coin: The world’s but theirs; but my beloved’s mine. Nor Time, nor Place, nor Chance, nor Death can bow My least desires unto the least remove; He’s firmly mine by oath; I his by vow; He’s mine by faith; and I am his by love; He’s mine by water; I am his by wine, Thus I my best-beloved’s am; thus he is mine. He is my Altar; I, his Holy Place; I am his guest; and he, my living food; I’m his by penitence; he mine by grace; I’m his by purchase; he is mine, by blood; He’s my supporting elm; and I his vine; Thus I my best beloved’s am; thus he is mine. He gives me wealth; I give him all my vows: I give him songs; he gives me length of dayes; With wreaths of grace he crowns my conqu’ring brows, And I his temples with a crown of Praise, Which he accepts as an everlasting signe, That I my best-beloved’s am; that he is mine.

Vocalist Elise Brancheau performs a cover of Regina Spektor's "Samson" with Dr. Martin Néron on piano The performance was featured on Crossing Genres, a lecture recital curated by Dr. Christopher Sierra at The College of New Jersey on March 2, 2019. The program for Crossing Genres can be found here: shorturl.at/ejmnX

Elise Brancheau (soprano) performs Gilda Lyons's "A Small Handful" at the First Reformed Church of New Brunswick on May 11, 2019. *** Music by Gilda Lyons (b. 1975) Poetry by Anne Sexton (1928-1974) I. "Where It Was at Back Then" Husband, last night I dreamt they cut off your hands and feet. Husband, you whispered to me, Now we are both incomplete. Husband, I held all four in my arms like sons and daughters. Husband, I bent slowly down and washed them in magical waters. Husband, I placed each one where it belonged on you. “A miracle,” you said and we laughed the laugh of the well-to-do. II. "Music Swims Back to Me" Wait Mister. Which way is home? They turned the light out and the dark is moving in the corner. There are no signposts in this room, four ladies, over eighty, in diapers every one of them. La la la, Oh music swims back to me and I can feel the tune they played the night they left me in this private institution on a hill. Imagine it. A radio playing and everyone here was crazy. I liked it and danced in a circle. Music pours over the sense and in a funny way music sees more than I. I mean it remembers better; remembers the first night here. It was the strangled cold of November; even the stars were strapped in the sky and that moon too bright forking through the bars to stick me with a singing in the head. I have forgotten all the rest. They lock me in this chair at eight a.m. and there are no signs to tell the way, just the radio beating to itself and the song that remembers more than I. Oh, la la la, this music swims back to me. The night I came I danced a circle and was not afraid. Mister? III. "Seven Times" I died seven times in seven ways letting death give me a sign, letting death place his mark on my forehead, crossed over, crossed over. And death took root in that sleep. In that sleep I held an ice baby and I rocked it and was rocked by it. Oh Madonna, hold me. I am a small handful.