“Petr & the Wulf” by Munly & the Lupercalians

Симфоничната приказка „ПЕТЯ И ВЪЛКЪТ“ е създадена от СЕРГЕЙ ПРОКОФИЕВ по молба на Наталия Сац, директор на Централния детски театър в Москва. Това става скоро след завръщането на ПРОКОФИЕВ в родината си, през пролетта на 1936 година. Идеята е да се запознаят децата с музикалните инструменти в симфоничния оркестър и да им се помогне да разграничават тембрите им.

ПРОКОФИЕВ е силно заинтригуван от задачата и я изпълнява за 4 дни, като лично пише и текста на разказвача. Премиерата на „ПЕТЯ И ВЪЛКЪТ“ е на 2 май 1936 г., дирижира самият ПРОКОФИЕВ.

Ето какво гласи накратко сюжетът на тази приказка:

Една сутрин малчуганът Петя отваря дворната порта и се отправя към зелената поляна. На най-високото дърво е кацнало познато на Петя птиче, което весело чурулика. След момчето се клатушка пате, което се насочва към езерото. Петя забелязва, че в тревата се промъква котка. Появява се и дядото на Петя, който се сърди на момчето, че е излязло извън двора. От гората се показва огромен сив вълк, който излапва патето. След него се появяват и ловците, които го преследват. Те стрелят с пушките си във въздуха, за да го уплашат. С помощта на Петя ловците залавят вълка. Тържественото шествие минава през полянката на път към зоологическата градина. Оказва се, че в бързината вълкът е погълнал патето цяло и то се обажда от неговия корем.

Американският музикант MUNLY JAY MUNLY замисля през 2010 г. проект от поредица албуми, наречен \"THE KINNERY OF LUPERCALIA“, в които да представи измисления град LUPERCALIA и хората, които живеят там. Първият от тези албуми е базиран именно на симфоничната приказка „ПЕТЯ И ВЪЛКЪТ“ от СЕРГЕЙ ПРОКОФИЕВ.

MUNLY преразказва историята от гледна точка на няколко герои: ПЕТЯ, ДЯДО МУ, ВЪЛКА, ЛОВЦИТЕ, ПАТЕТО, КОТКАТА и ПТИЧЕТО, всеки със свой музикален стил и езиков изказ. Неправилното изписване на имената на героите на английски – PETR, WULF, DUK, GRANDFATER – представя синтаксис, с който MUNLY се опитва да премести езика в рамките на устната традиция, чиито музикални особености допълват образните характеристики на персонажите.

Албума “PETR & THE WULF” или „ПЕТЯ И ВЪЛКЪТ“ ще чуем в предаването “Картини от една изложба” на програма “Хоризонт” на БНР в събота, 9 декември, след новините от 21.00 ч.

 

 

В предаването на 9.12.2017 г: Munly & The Lupercalians и албумът „Петя и вълкът“


MUNLY & THE LUPERCALIANS
PETR & THE WULF
Date of Release: October 5th, 2010


SONGS/TRACKS:

1. Scarewulf – 5:02
2. Petr – 4:38
3. Grandfatr – 5:38
4. Bird – 5:05
5. Cat – 6:34
6. Duk – 4:19
7. Three Wise Hunters – 8:18
8. Wulf – 8:11

© 2010 Alternative Tentacles

 

CREDITS:

Banjo, Vocals – Munly J. Munly*
Drums – Chadzilla, Todd Moore
Keyboards – Daniel Grandbois*
Keyboards, Cello – Rebecca Vera

Robert Ferbrache – engineer at Absinthe Studio

LYRICS:

Scarewulf

Petr hes skulking round his father’s home again. Peers under
The doors crack, he wonders which side be his sin. Spring himself
And Grandfater each from their own traps, six inches under the
Door same as window cracks.

It s a mad mad way hes living, that s his destiny.
It s a mad mad way hes living, I bare witness on thee.

Grandfater is falling out of the room again. Can t spring himself
From this trap Petr put him in. Grandfater peering out of the
Window high, Grandfater lets out an old man cry.

It s a bad dad way hes living, that s his destiny.
It s a bad dad way hes living, I bare witness on thee.

Three Hunters they are coming to this land again. They wander
Through the Wandering, mountains, and ocean. They don t give
Heed to three birds a different hunt they seek, not themselves,
Bird, duck, or geese.

It s a glad glad way they’re living, that s their destiny.
It s a glad glad way they’re living, I bare witness on thee.

The Wulf he be screaming from his wood again. Laughing at the Hunters who
Come to do him in. The Wulf he is a coming head on to-wards me, he ain t afraid
Of this Scarebeast.

It s a cad cad way hes living, that s his destiny.
It s a cad cad way he s living, I bare witness on thee.

This town it is falling down, down into the sea, mountains they are heaving
Up all Lupercali. Closer comes the Wandering six inches every day, one day
This place will fades away.

It s a sad sad way were living, that s our destiny.
It s a sad sad way were living, I bare witness on thee.
It s a sad sad way were living, that s our destiny.
It s a sad sad way were living, in Lupercali!


Petr

They named me Petr not Mark, Luke, Paul. I still
Gots prophisies of things Ill do and done. I saved my
Grandpapa from the Bedlams gates, sprung him from
That trap, brung him home to teach me family ways.

Now Grandfater welcome back to cloistered home,
I got questions bout everything, then more questions
Top of those. If you teach me love teach me hate teach
Me of Ahmen. Then Grandfater I will spring from
Your hand as planned.

But then he changed my plan when he trapped me in
My room. He locked the door real hard, said, don t you
See the dangers true! I watched him tween the bars of
My windowed room, tighten the cloister locks, we
Watchin each other both sayin , now this is tough.

So I grabbed my Grandfater as he fed me in my room. I switched
Our roles, locked hard the door, said, Grandfater now Ill teach
You. Teach you love teach you hate re-teach you all you know.
And Grandfater I will teach you our new family laws.

Well Grandfater now put your gun away, Ill put the Wulf in
Our cloister, yous can keep each other company. The iron spikes
That held me tight, the best traps on our ground. Of that you never
Took no note, but Ill bring that beast home to keep all down.


Grandfater

I have become the worn man with the leathern skin, feels
Like there s a barbed pin needle chuteing rapids through my
Bloodstream. I can see my veins throbbing opaque through my
Bird neck skin. But I would retake back all them years if Wulf
Would repay my kindness with Wulfs teeth.

It could be pork on Friday and fish on the Sabbath, if I could
Wear his teeth.

I would take my Grandson down to town and we d look on all
Them girls lined up on them splintered benches, flash my
Pumpkin toothed grin and I would get me three of them then I
Would give one to Petr who has yet to cut his teeth. He d have
To gum them but for me with Wulfs teeth...

It could be pork on Friday and fish on the Sabbath, if I could
Wear his teeth.

Now Petr put me upstairs and I m locked inside this trap. There
Is only left that six inches where I see his shadow going forward and
Back. He slides my dinner neath those six inches and mashed it in
One my traps for me. He ll quit me of this family, there will be
Weeping and gnashing of teeth.

It could be pork on Friday and fish on the Sabbath, if I could
Wear his teeth.


Bird

Im a little butcher bird whos kin has lit away
I came out of my egg and I found no family
Left all alone my feathers fell from me
I had to teach myself, teach myself to sing...
...Hear how I taught me...
Looooo

Now I whisper hard into ear of Scarebeast
Hes my bestest friend but hes yet to answer me
Petr sidles up he wants to befriend me
His gall is large I m jealous of his family...
...It makes me sing...
Looooo

My best friends found his work to scare, makes parchment sound
When I preen his hair, I sit his shoulder as if I m a miracle.
Id lift Scarebeast up to the sky, If hed only teach me how to fly,
We d take my feathers and pay them to Aurelias. Aurelias say
Hes not that type, to work behind the other twos unkind, he
Admires my love but my bodys payment ain t enough.

Since Aurelias say he cannot help me
Ill find a new way to help my bestest friend Scarebeast
Scare, you don t question my comforting
You ve no truck with discussion so my help to you I sing...
...Comforting...


Cat

Be I jealous of the fear the nonsense the Wulf puts in you
But pity is off limits here you put me in decent fear
I speed along the bowerpaths, through chokecherry scrub
That wants me too...
It reaches out like Bedlam loons.

Be I secretive to survive cause a dog is lusting on my scent
I spray hard upon the bee hive, flys gather there, lay eggs inside
The Hunter breathes deep my leavings, fly eggs fall in
His pock-nose dents... The hive livens and hunts him down
As I ve sent.

Be I willful with my manner milkfull girls wont make me crave.
Be I small inside my stature unreasoned fear is what I m after
My shrunken gut decides confusion from bowerpaths
I won t be swayed... Less fly tricked and on me their eggs do lay.

The air fall to the ground again
This cat falls and is falteringly human

Cat call

I have heard the she-cats calling compete and bark for my strut
I see Three Hunters now approaching I can t hide while she-cats sing
That boy he wants to be companioned but girls has got me in their rut...
Human feelings I can t shut.

The air fall to the ground again
This cat falls and is falteringly human.


Duk

Im a slothduck, so weightful can t catch air
Circle your bath water jealous of the herons pair.
Churned mud you can t get clean, turn your bath to muck.
Wish I was a big grai goose, stead of homeless duck.

Duck Duck grai duck goose, who be chasing you?

When weather falls, my ducks body wants to leave.
I m too fat and slow, and none can leave Lupercali.
I ve homed in tree and earth, lined my nest with hooves.
But none keeps me as safe and warm as I would be in
The Wulf.

Duck Duck grai duck goose, who be chasing you?

Chase! Chase! Chase!

Well now I m inside the gut of this old beast.
I m kept warm and safe while nesting in this keep.
Look out between his ribs hiding all the day.
I use them as a shutter watch Petr outside as he plays.

Duck Duck grai duck goose, who be chasing you?


Three Wise Hunters

You ve called for Three Hunters, Three Hunters are we. You do tempt
Us to be your Three Kings. We ve hunted in Egypt, Greece, and Norway.
We can replenish you of your freedom. We can set you people free.
But you must accept out offering, now let us introduce what we bring.

I m Marcus Aurelius, I m the King of the Sky. I give you every stolen birds
Feather, use them to wipe the pity from your eyes. Ill fly them to heaven,
Take away your pain. My subjects will carry your feathers forever.
Your pain will be so far out of your reach. I m Marcus Aurelias and
This is my offering. I offer to you to be your First King.

Iam Lucius, the King of the Water. I offer the fat and the oil of the
Pickerel fish. I will flenser your fear off that has congealed on yourselves.
Ill take your fear then rub you with oily unguent. In mouths my baleens
Will hold your fear in safe keeping. Iam Lucius and this is my offering. I
Offer to you to be your Second King.

My name is Jonas, they call me Jonas Groan. Banished to the Underworld,
Yeah, where I m mostly alone. All I got is a backbone from some hell hound.
I m sorry but that s all I found underground. Cold dark lonely, Ill never
Let you get as low as me. Iam Jonas Groan and this is my only offering.
I don t have to offer much to be only Third King.

We are the Three Kings, we will keep you safe. We might hunt with a
Harness an ulu or arsenic. We ll take your pity and fear that keeps you
Lowly. And if we accept your offering. And take your beast far away.
Then we will rule as your Kings, we ll start the hunt when you accede.


Wulf

I will say I am a bit benumbed at present. When I was a pubescent
Pup with my purity affecting me teary eyes, I went prostrate on the floor
Of an abyss, my situation was dire. For my own boughs were resembling
And Asian horticulturists pride and joy. And try as I might, the apex of
The pit was beyond my capture. I bellowed ire chaff and gall! At the
Climax of my yawping a youth gazed over the lip of my pit. I expected the
Rube to stone me, maybe throw one of his blood lusting hunting hounds
Inside the ring of my confines, he acting the Caesar to what would be my
Christian end. Yet, as he bore into me with his judging regard his large
Heart rose on the end of his merciful thumb. This gallant maneuvered
The torpid limb of one black oak or walnut or willow--inconsequential
At present--the instrument creating a gradient for my exodus from
From the chasm. And in gratitude, forever more have I brought his
Penned domicile my offerings. I thought to alleviate the burden of the
Hunt for his people, to bring them fresh victuals daily. Give them comfort
And repose. Let them wolf down my offerings. Ha! I have always had a
Sad wag to my tongue. Yet, now I unearth the
Accusations of my nefarious behavior. You have sent
Three to off me! Do you have no more woman to
Blame? Are there no more blacks to censure? You
Have exterminated my brethren the Chippewa to
Position myself as the fountainhead of all your
Miscreant ways. With this I cannot accede. My
Generous ways are rescinded. If Iam to be your
Reprobate I shall at least enjoy the malefaction!
And I have a redux to my thesis, a section 2A to my outline. As
I satiated my needed dormancy in the womb of my grotto, escaping
The loathesomeness of the sun. In a dream state I concocted my next
Program that held with a romantic lean. Not like one of your matronly
Southern poets who will drown themselves upon the first disclosure
Towards their acts of cribbing. Yet something with cunning and irony,
It would take astute cracker jack execution. Even dare I say, swell
Headed! I would pad my feet over the nettles of my ebon forest, slink
On my belly, succumbing to the chastisement of the thistles as I treverse
Through the pastel lea. Conscious and wary of the Nimrods lusting for
My completion. Them Three Nimrods you sent after me! I would
Perch outside the thin black young trunk like spiked iron bars that
Encompass the hovel. I would flash my red wet smile up to his window,
Engrossing his youthful curiosity to descend to his cloister. Falling upon
My haunch I would entice then influence the boy to mount upon me as
If I were one of your doltish labor beasts. Then I would traverse over
The land, making him witness to my wretchedness, corroborator to my
Upheaval. He would testify to these undue accusations. Would you people
Recognize him upon return? Would this last act be the millstone
Round the neck of my catalogue of deeds?
You blame me for the future, you blame me for the past, you blame me for
The plenty which you never can make last. You blame me for the heat, you
Blame me for the cold, you blame me for your courage which has never
Taken hold. you blame me for the light you blame me for the dark, you
Blame me for the angels which never came to hark. You blame me for
The dry, and the wet that makes you ache, you blame me for your love
Which still has yet to take. You blame me for the sadness, and your
Work which can t get done, you blame me for your mocking cast of the
Setting sun. I might as well commit the sins for being blamed for them!

BIOLINKS:

https://www.munlymunly.com/
https://www.facebook.com/Munly-The-Lupercalians-141000394569/
http://www.slimcessnasautoclub.com/

 

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