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released December 15, 2015

Jacqueline Novikov, soprano
Yelena Beriyeva, piano

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Jacqueline Novikov Boston, Massachusetts

Soprano Jacqueline Novikov, founder of Forma Music, is dedicated to entertaining and educating audiences through classical vocal music. She uses music's powerful language to express life's humorous, serious, mundane and sacred truths. Jacqueline holds a B.M. from the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, NY and a M.M. from Manhattan School of Music in New York City. ... more

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Track Name: Vissi D'arte
Vissi d’arte, vissi d’amore,
non feci mai male ad anima viva!
Con man furtiva
quante miserie conobbi aiutai.
Sempre con fè sincera
la mia preghiera
ai santi tabernacoli salì.
Sempre con fè sincera
diedi fiori agl’altar.
Nell’ora del dolore
perchè, perchè, Signore,
perchè me ne rimuneri così?
Diedi gioielli della Madonna al manto,
e diedi il canto agli astri, al ciel,
che ne ridean più belli.
Nell’ora del dolor
perchè, perchè, Signor,
ah, perchè me ne rimuneri così?

I lived for my art, I lived for love,
I never did harm to a living soul!
With a secret hand
I relieved as many misfortunes as I knew of.
Always with true faith my prayer
rose to the holy shrines.
Always with true faith
I gave flowers to the altar.
In the hour of grief
why, why, o Lord,
why do you reward me thus?
I gave jewels for the Madonna’s mantle,
and I gave my song to the stars, to heaven,
which smiled with more beauty.
In the hour of grief
why, why, o Lord,
ah, why do you reward me thus?
Track Name: Mandoline
Les donneurs de sérénades
Et les belles écouteuses
Échangent des propos fades
Sous les ramures chanteuses.
C'est Tircis et c'est Aminte,
Et c'est l'éternel Clitandre,
Et c'est Damis qui pour mainte Cruelle
fait maint vers tendre.

Leurs courtes vestes de soie,
Leurs longues robes à queues,
Leur élégance, leur joie
Et leurs molles ombres bleues,
Tourbillonnent dans l'extase
D'une lune rose et grise,
Et la mandoline jase
Parmi les frissons de brise.

The serenading swains
And the lovely women who listen
Exchange insipid words
Under the singing branches.

There is Thyrsis and Amyntas
And there's the eternal Clytander,
And there's Damis who, for many a
Heartless woman, wrote many tender verses.
Their short silk coats,
Their long dresses with trains,
Their elegance, their joy
And their soft blue shadows,
Whirl madly in the ecstasy
Of a rose and grey moon,
And the mandolin chatters
Among the trembling of the breeze.
Track Name: Museum Song
Quite a lotta Roman terra cotta
Livin' lava from the flanks of Etna
Statuary, ride a dromedary
See the Temple tumble and the Red Sea part.

McNamara's band, the fattest lady in the land
A pickled prehistoric hand, a strand of Pocahontas' hair
Crow and Sioux who're going to be showing you
Some rowing through a model of the rapids on the Delaware.

Armadillas, lever caterpillas
Reproductions of the Cyclops' ret'na
Crystal blowing, automatic sewing
Venus on a shell and other works of art.

Educated fleas, a tribe of Aborigines
Two ladies joined across the knees, a Mona Lisa made of ice
Hottentots we've gotten in forgotten spots
A cotton gin, a night with Lot in Sodom
Better see that twice!

One iguana, snakes and other fauna
Got no bearded lady but we're get'na
When you duck out, take another buck out
Run around the block And see a new show start.
Track Name: The Colors of My Life
The colors of your life
Are bountiful and bold,
The purple glow of indigo,
The gleam of green and gold.
The splendor of the sunrise,
The dazzle of a flame,
The glory of a rainbow,
You put 'em all to shame.
No quiet browns and grays,
You take your days instead
And fill them till they overflow
With rose and cherry red!
And if this sunlit world
Grows dark one day,
The colors of your life
Will leave a shining light
To show the way...

The colors of my life
Are softer than a breeze.
The silver gray of eiderdown,
The dappled green of trees.
The amber of a wheat field,
The hazel of a seed,
The crystal of a raindrop,
Are all I'll ever need.
Your reds are much too bold,
In gold I find no worth.
I'll fill my days with sage and brown
The colors of the earth,
And if from by my side
My love should roam,
The colors of my life
Will shine a quiet light
To lead him home.
Track Name: It's an Art
There's some as don't care when they put down a plate there's a sound.
Not with me.
When they move a chair it will scrape with a grate on the ground.
Not with me.
I will have my hand right when I place a glass.
Notice how I stand right as customers pass.
Serve a demitasse with a gesture so gentle
Or do it again 'til It's near oriental.

Da da da da dum dum

It's an art! It's an art to be a fine waitress.
To see that you pleasure each guest.
There's a twist to my wrist when I bring your steak in.
Or watch how I take in your liver and bacon.
It all needs be stylish and smart.
That's what makes it an art.

I remember one day, as I do now and then.
I had shakes. Down I went!
There with my tray full of coffees
and cordials and cakes. Down I went!
But I kept my poise. Not one guest heard me fall.
Never made a noise. Not one noise food and all.
If you have to crawl, you give 'em what they like.
You carry your tray like...it's almost ballet-like.

La la la la la la la la la la la la la la

It's an art! It's an art to be a fine waitress
Each evening I treasure the test.
Like tonight was a fight, cause they hired this bus boy,
This hair-all-a-muss boy and folks heard him cuss.
Boy, did we have a quick heart to heart.
Even that was an art.

Tips? HA!
Tips are important for people like captains and barmen
For them it's a tips, see? For me, I'm a gypsy!
Just toss me a coin and I suddenly feel like I'm Carmen

So on through the ulcer, he backache, the hot, sweaty feet.
On you go!
Through, "Is your knife dull, sir?"
And, "Madam wants WHAT with her meat?"
On you go!
Two AM approaches, the curtains descend
There among the roaches my act's at an end
Every night I tend to find myself crying
There's no work so trying tr so satisfying
It's an art! It’s an art to be a great waitress.
So I zoom through the room, with a flair no one else has. An air no one else has.
I swear no one else has my lilt when I say "A la carte"
You can see it gives me a glow, ev'rytime I prove I'm a pro
Maybe I'm not quite Michelangelo.
But I'm not just a waitress,I'm a one woman show!
Track Name: Vincent
Starry, starry night,
Paint your palette blue and gray.
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills.
Sketch the trees and the daffodils.
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.
Now, I understand, what you tried to say to me.
And how you suffered for your sanity.
And how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.

Starry, starry night,
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze.
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colors changing hue.
Morning fields of amber grain.
Weathered faces lined in pain.
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
Now, I understand, what you tried to say to me,
And how you suffered for your sanity.
And how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.

For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left inside,
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you

Like the strangers that you've met.
The ragged men in ragged clothes.
The silver thorn of bloody rose.
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now, I think I know what you tried to say to me.
And how you suffered for your sanity.
And how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will.
Track Name: Mona Lisa
In a villa in a little old Italian town,
Lives a girl whose beauty shames the rose.
Many yearn to love her, but their hopes all tumble down.
What does she want? No one knows.

Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa, men have named you.
You're so like the lady with the mystic smile.
Is it only 'cause you're lonely they have blamed you?
For that Mona Lisa strangeness in your smile?
Do you smile to tempt a lover, Mona Lisa?
Or is this your way to hide a broken heart?
Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep.
They just lie there and they die there.
Are you warm, are you real, Mona Lisa?
Or just a cold and lonely, lovely work of art?
Track Name: Art is Calling for Me
Mama is a queen and Papa is a king.
So I am a princess and I know it.
But court etiquette is a dull dreary thing.
I just hate it all and I show it.
To sing on the stage that's the one life for me.
My figure's just like Tetrazzini.
I know I'd win fame if I sang in Bohéme,
That opera by Signor Puccini.
I’ve roulades and the trills
That would send the cold chills
Down the backs of all hearers of my vocal frills.

I long to be a prima donna, donna, donna.
I long to shine upon the stage.
I have the embonpoint
To become a queen of song.
And my figure would look pretty as a page.
I want to be a screechy peachy cantatrice
Like other plump girls that I see.
I hate society.
I hate propriety.
Art is calling for me!

I'm in the elite and men sigh at my feet.
Still I do not fancy my position.
I have not much use for the men that I meet.
I just burn with lyric ambition.
Those tenors so sweet.
If they made love to me
I'd be a success, that I do know.
And Melba I’d oust if I once sang in Faust,
That opera so charming by Gounod.
Girls would be on the brink
Of hysterics, I think.
Even strong men would have to go out for a drink.

I long to be a prima donna, donna, donna.
I long to shine upon the stage.
With my avoirdupois,
And my tra la la la la,
I would be the chief sensation of the age.
I long to hear them shouting: "Viva" to the Diva.
Oh, very lovely that must be.
That's what I'm dying for,
That's what I'm sighing for.
Art is calling for me!

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