La Canzone Napoletana: seconda puntata

„That was the time in which Naples dreamed as her great artists, her fanciful painters, sculptors and poets dreamed; and in so great a variety of expression one form prevailed…: song. In those days they sang all over Naples:… It was the time which, more than any other, was dominated by the aesthetic and melodious enchantment of Posillipo, where from every silvery beach, traced by boats and wandering torches, from every terrace, from every merry and festive group of trippers, from every still and pensive pair of lovers rose in the air a voice – now like a cry of love, now like a murmur of voluptuous rapture in song… Times long ago, dreamed rather than lived.“

Enrico De Leva „Ricordo di Mario Costa“

Having started off our series on the „canzoni napoletani“ with Pasquariello we will proceed to one of the most authentic embodiments of neapolitan songs (not only among opera singers): Fernando de Lucia (1860-1925).

Fittingly he will be granted two titles. De Lucia lived for most of his life in his native Naples, his artistic life coinciding with the heyday of the Neapolitan song. His recordings of those songs make up almost one quarter of his enormous recorded output. In 1922 his very last record was “Marechiare” by Tosti. In 1888, Enrico De Leva was probaly the first composer to dedicate a song to the rising tenor, De Lucia („Lacreme amare“). Many more dedications were to follow, among them: „Di te!“ (Napoletano & Fogazzaro/Tirindelli), „Carulina“ (Testa & De Crescenzo), Mandulinata (G. Di Giacomo & Donato), „Palummella“ (Rovito & De Crescenzo), „Triste ritorno“ (R. Barthélemy), „Nun me guardate cchiù“ (Russo & Gambardella) and „Voce e notte“ (Nicolardi & De Curtis) – the last one seems to have been „Il marinaro canta“ (lyrics Bianca Franci) composed by his son, Nadir de Lucia, in 1919. De Lucia was atrue master charmerin this repertoire. To begin with he had the technique and vocal control to do with his voice however he pleased. He had great vocal flexibility and elasticity of tempo and a rare feeling for rythm and was able to get out of his voice infinite gradations of vocal colors and nuances. You hear how he loves his language, how he caresses every word (one has the same feeling with De Lucia´s pupil, Georges Thill when he is singing in French). To sing these songs adequately one has to be able to reduce his voice – to condense or „center“ it, in order not to overload the song. De Lucia perfectly catches the spirit. Always a large portion of melancholy, sometimes happy and sad – tender an d cruel at the same time. Unfortunately De Lucia recorded only the first verse.

Salvatore Di Giacomo and Mario Costa worked often and well together: their first song was „Nannì!“ (Napulitanata, 1881), followed by „Era de Maggio“, (1885), „Ojè, Carulì“, „Oilì, oilà“ (1886), „Luna nova“ (1887) „Lariulà“ (1890) or „Catarì“ (1892).

Era de Maggio (lyrics: Salvatore Di Giacomo & music: Mario Costa) (1885)

Era de maggio e te cadéano ‘nzino,
a schiocche a schiocche, li ccerase rosse.
Fresca era ll’aria, e tutto lu ciardino
addurava de rose a ciento passe.

Era de maggio; io no, nun mme ne scordo,
na canzone cantávemo a doje voce.
Cchiù tiempo passa e cchiù mme n’allicordo,
fresca era ll’aria e la canzona doce.

E diceva: “Core, core!
core mio, luntano vaje,
tu mme lasse e io conto ll’ore…
chisà quanno turnarraje?” Rispunnev’io: “Turnarraggio
quanno tornano li rrose.
si stu sciore torna a maggio,
pure a maggio io stóngo ccá.
Si stu sciore torna a maggio,
pure a maggio io stóngo ccá.”

(E so’ turnato e mo, comm’a ‘na vota,
cantammo ‘nzieme lu mutivo antico;
passa lu tiempo e lu munno s’avota,
ma ‘ammore vero no, nun vota vico.

De te, bellezza mia, mme ‘nnammuraje,
si t’allicuorde, ‘nnanze a la funtana:
Ll’acqua llá dinto, nun se sécca maje,
e ferita d’ammore nun se sana.

Nun se sana: ca sanata,
si se fosse, gioia mia,
‘mmiez’a st’aria ‘mbarzamata,
a guardarte io nun starría
E te dico: “Core, core!
core mio, turnato io so’.
Torna maggio e torna ‘ammore:
fa’ de me chello che vuo’!
Torna maggio e torna ‘ammore:
fa’ de me chello che vuo’ “)

–  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –

It was in May and into your lap fell
strands and strands of red cherries.
The air was fresh and all thr

ough the garden

lingered the scent of roses.
It was in May, and I do not forget,
we sang a song together.
The more time passes, the more I remember,
the air was fresh and the song sweet….

And the song said, “My heart, you are going far away,
you are leaving me and I will count the hours.
Who knows when you will return?”
I replied, “I will return
when the roses bloom in May,
when the roses return in May, I, too, will be here.”

(And they bloomed, and now, as once before,
we sing together the old song;
time passes and the Earth turns,
but our true love, no, it does not change.
With you, my beauty, I fell in love,
if you remember, in front of the fountain:
the water within it never dries up
and a wound of love never heals.

It never heals, otherwise, oh my joy,
I would not be looking at you here in the midst of this perfumed air!
And I say  to you: “My heart, I have returned.

May has returned and so has love;

do with me what you will!”)

Oili’, oila’ (lyrics: Salvatore di Giacomo & music: Mario Costa) (1886)

„Oilì oilà“ was sponsored in 1886 by „Occhialetto“ for the Piedigrotta. It proved irresistable to a populace which braved the cholera to hear it sung both in the Caffè Europa and in the gardens of the Villa Comunale, the splendid public gardens which stretch beside the bay from Piazza Vittoria to Mergellina.“                                                                    (from „Fernando De Lucia“ by Michael Henstock)

„L´amore è una catena“… – and Don Fernando surely knew………. 😉

 

 

 

 

 

Carmè’, quanno te veco,
Carmè’, quanno te veco, Carmè’, quanno te veco,
mme sbatte ‘o core…

Dimméllo tu ch’è chesto,
dimméllo tu ch’è chesto,
dimméllo tu ch’è chesto,
si nun è ammore?

Chest’è ammore,
Oilì Oilà !
e dincello a mamma toja
si te vò’ fá mmaretá…

Carmè’, dincello…
Nu bellu maretiello
è sempe buono…
Si no tu rieste sola,
sola, sola, e llariulá…
‘a veritá, nce vò’ na cumpagnia,
la-la-la-la llariulá!
la-la-la-la llariulá!…

II

Comm’acqua a la funtana,
comm’acqua a la funtana,
comm’acqua a la funtana,
ca nun se secca…

Ll’ammore è na catena,
ll’ammore è na catena,
ll’ammore è na catena,
ca nun se spezza…

Nun se spezza…
Oilì Oilà !
si se spezza…bonasera,
nun se pò cchiù ‘ncatená!

Carmè’ tu ‘o ssiente?
Nu bellu maretiello è sempe buono…
si no tu rieste sola,
sola, sola, e llariulá…
‘a veritá, nce vò’ na cumpagnia,
la-la-la-la llariulá!
la-la-la-la llariulá!

–  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –

I

Carmela, when I see you,

my heart is beating.

Tell me, what is this, if not love?

 

This is love!

Oilì, oilà!

Tell your mother, if you want to get married!

Carmela, tell her that this handsome fisherman

will always be good to you.

Otherwise, you will stay all alone

alone, alone, tralalala

The truth is, that everybody needs company.

la-la-la-la llariulá!

 

II

Like water from the fountain, which never dries,

love is like a chain, which will never get torn.

It will never tear – oilì, oilà.

And if it does… good night…

you won´t be able to chain it any more.

 

Carmela, do you listen?

this handsome fisherman will always be good to you.

Otherwise, you will stay all alone

alone, alone, tralalala

The truth is, that everybody needs company.

la-la-la-la llariulá!