Figaro (solo):

Bring Me A Storm



photo Kim Krijnen Angelo Custodio as Figaro

An opera-monologue for performer and ensemble
consisting of blockflute, flute, clarinet, trumpet, tuba, tube, mandolin, pedal steel guitar, banjo, harpsichord, harp, percussion, violin, viola, viola da gamba and double bass


2020


Text and music by Boris Bezemer

With bits from:
Le mariage de Figaroby Pierre Beaumarchais
Macbethby William Shakespeare
Glitter in My Woundsby CA Conrad
 

Bring Me A Storm

 
Not gently but rough
The world is divided
Not gently but rough
 Le mariage de Figaro:
No mister countNon, monsieur le comte, vous ne l’aurez pas.
You think you amount to more than these
tenderly howling hounds around you
Because you're a wealthy money bossParce que vous êtes un grand seigneur,
You think you're a geniusvous vous croyez un grand génie!
 
Oh you poor count
Mansions, castles, fortunes, some high position,noblesse, fortune, un rang,
Everywhere there's place for you, my precious politiciandes places,
And how proud it makes you feel!tout cela rend si fier !
 
Oh you prick, I'll prick you and make you bleed
I'll prick you dry and take just what I need
Not gently but rough
 
 
 

I am sad
My friend is so sick
My other friend so sad
I want to hug them both so much
But they're too far away to touch

The world is divided
And unfairly divided
Not gently but rough
But in the end we don't know what we want
And yet we want all kinds of stuff

The weak want to be strong
The sick want to be healthy
The blind they want to see

The lonely wants a friend
The drenched one wants a towel
The dog a bone and shelter underneath a tree

The poor want to eat
A child wants love
The oppressed want to be free

The son wants to take care of his parents
But also live with someone on another shore

The richest man also wants something to want
He doesn't know just what he wants
So he then just longs for more and always more
And always more

I want to prick a wealthy billionaire
So that all his gold and silver flows
From his belly all across the stage
Not gently but rough!

To begin I prick myself
And a song begins to flow
A singing mandolin, a violin
A wooden flute that sweeps real low

A trumpet bleeds, a gamba cries
From the harpsichord a flood
A tuba tenderly caresses
Humans, play me the song of circulating blood

Play for me four trumpets
Singing electronic sine waves
Recorded voices on the phone

And the stage is buried
In a loudly crying choir
Leaving love and greed to juice it up together in the foam

And I dream of a shimmery scene
With a long white empty table
A sharp and shiny boulder
A golden bone served on a silver tray
And the boulder looks up to me and asks:
Can your desire truly never go away?

The grain field wants a storm
The string wants to be plucked
The flute wants to reverberate
The bullet wants you not to duck

The grain field wants a storm
The string wants to be plucked
The flute wants to reverberate
The bullet wants you not to duck

 
 
 

If I was a rock, I would need you to wash me
If I was a rock, I would hide by the sea
If I was a rock, I would look for my peers
If I was a rock, I would worry about how i look

If I was a shark, I would swim so fast that no one would see me
If I was a shark, I would be always on the run
If I was a shark, I would be an artist

If I was a pearl necklace, I would always be nervous
If I was a pearl necklace, I would dream of breaking
I would dream of being scattered

If I was an angel I would take the form of a horse. And fly through rainy clouds. I would wear a beautiful tight suit with scales on it to make me look like a fish. My hooves would be gold, just like my nose ring. My tail would be thick and brown and I'd have a saddle in case I needed to help out a friend, or a lost passenger. Or a dreaming child, or a quiet old soul whose world was slowly shrinking.

If I was with you
I'd feel completely accepted, like nothing was wrong
I would feel like a rock that doesn't want anything
I would feel like a shark, free to swim as fast as I can
I would feel like pearls in the beds of their mothers
I would feel like a child on the back of an angel horse

I would practice the trumpet
Until it could sing whatever you want
However quiet and however sweet

I would hug you in bed
Under a big fluffy blanket
When it's dark and it's cold
And when everyone's gone

And I would feel your body breathing
And I would want nothing more
Because I would be a shark
And I would be a rock

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Macbeth:
Who am I anyway?
I'm just a poor musician
A walking shadow crying across the stage unheard
I am an opera
Sung by an idiot full of passion and spirit
Making no sense at all with any single word
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
 Le mariage de Figaro:
Is there anything stranger than my destiny?
I'm the child of lovers I don't know
I was stolen and raised by a motherless mob
Then – through the desert and the snow
I escaped with smugglers to be free
And studied for years to be without a job
Est-il rien de plus bizarre que ma destinée !
Fils de je ne sais pas qui ;
volé par des bandits ; élevé dans leurs mœurs (...)

I gathered my things and packed up my bags
And left pride in the middle of the road
'Cause it's too heavy for a pedestrian

So here I am
Put back in the crowd
Left nameless once again
Unseen, unknown to you now
I cry so lonely and so loud:

Je reprends ma trousse et mon cuir anglais ; puis, admettre la fumée aux sots qui s’en nourrissent, et la honte au milieu du chemin, comme trop lourd à un piéton, je vais rasant de ville en ville, et je vis enfin sans souci.

Oh fantastic series of events
Why should you happen to me?
Why you and not other things?
Are you why everything is how it went?
Are you how everything will end?
Are you my one and only friend?
And if you're not then please, please, please
Please just pretend
Not gently but rough

Ô bizarre suite d’événements !
Comment cela m’est-il arrivé ?
Pourquoi ces choses et non pas d’autres ?
Qui les a fixées sur ma tête ?

 (Suzon, Suzon, Suzon !)
Oh how you torture me!
Oh how you make me suffer!
Can you give it to me harder?
Can you give it to me rougher?
que tu me donnes de tourments !
 
Yes! Yes! You...
I am just a face in the crowdmoi, morbleu, perdu dans la foule obscure
But what's within will be without
'Cause nothing can fail to be true to its nature
So I will take care of you, sweet lover, sweet hater
I love you!

Ohhh yes
Ohhhh you

But you won't have me
And you won't have us
You won't have them
You won't have me

Non, monsieur le comte, vous ne l’aurez pas… vous ne l’aurez pas.

 Glitter in My Wounds:
You people can't kill me and think you can kill me again!
Because I carry special greetings that my lover sent
He too is broken, wrung out, dry and bent
You people can't kill me and think you can kill me again!

I love you!
I love you!
I love you!
I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!
I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!
I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!
I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!
I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!
I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!
I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!
I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!