#Mel Bonis

[senfonikankara]

Mel Bonis | Suite en trio

[lesser-known-composers]

Mel Bonis (1858–1937) - Flute Sonata

Flute/ Alena Walentin & Piano/ Berit Johansen Tange

[elmartillosinmetre]

Mi crítica del concierto de Mégret, Cernat, Fausto y Martínez-Pierret esta noche en el Maestranza.

[andthemoonsingswisely]

I love reading about female composers in history and feeling righteous anger at the misogyny they faced

[musicwithoutborders]

Mel Bonis / Bertrand Chamayou, Miocheries, Op. 126: No. 13, La toute petite s'endort I Good Night!, 2020

[rolflovesclassicalmusic]

Concert review, ★★★★, Esther Hoppe, Chiara Enderle Samatanga, Luisa Seraina Splett @ Kirchgemeindehaus, Winterthur-Veltheim, 2023-03-05 — Mel Bonis (1858 – 1937): Piano Trio "Soir-Matin", op.76 (1907); Dora Pejačević (1885 – 1923): Piano Trio in C major, op.29 (1910); Lili Boulanger (1893 – 1918): Piano Trio "D'un soir triste" (1917/1918); Rebecca Clarke (1886 – 1979): Piano Trio (1921)

[hexb0nes]

“this is a bit silly, don’t you think?” viktor questions you, as you hand him another sweater to try on, “an ugly sweater contest? i have never such a thing.”

“relax, vik,” you hum, “it’s a holiday tradition! jayce and everyone else is doing, too.”

viktor glances down at the sweater in his hands, bony fingers feeling the soft fabric, “did you make this one yourself?” he asks.

“maybeeeee…” you giggle. viktor offers you a small smile, “i’ll wear this then.”

you grinned in delight, “well, get it on! we don’t have much time until the party starts.”

... ... ...

“oh. my. gods,” mel’s baffled expression forces you to stifle back laughter, “what in the world is he wearing?”

“i don’t know what you mean,” you chuckle, nursing a toasty cup of hot chocolate in your hands, “it’s just a sweater, isn’t it?”

in the distance, viktor is chatting quietly with jayce, the man of progress himself shaking with suppressed laughter. on the pretty red sweater, three photographs of jayce are attached with the word ‘ho’ pointing at him.

“you made that, didn’t you?” mel snorts.

“yup!” you proudly proclaim.

“…think you could make me one?”

“absolutely.”

[apaperswan]

Ok, I am the only one who became obsessed with Pelléas and Mélisande after listening to this?

For context: "Pelléas and Mélisande (French: Pelléas et Mélisande) is a Symbolist play by the Belgian playwright and author Maurice Maeterlinck. It's about the forbidden, doomed love of the title characters and was first performed in 1893.

The work never achieved great success on stage, apart from operatic setting by Claude Debussy, but was at the time widely read and admired by the symbolist literary elite, such as Strindberg and Rilke. It inspired other contemporary composers, like Gabriel Fauré, Arnold Schoenberg, Jean Sibelius, and Mel Bonis.

Synopsis: Golaud finds Mélisande by a stream in the woods. She has lost her crown in the water but does not wish to retrieve it. They marry, and she instantly wins the favor of Arkël, Golaud's grandfather and king of Allemonde, who is ill. She begins to be drawn to Pelléas, Golaud's brother. They meet by the fountain, where Mélisande loses her wedding ring. Golaud grows suspicious of the lovers, has his son Yniold spy on them, and discovers them caressing, whereupon he kills Pelléas and wounds Mélisande. She later dies after giving birth to an abnormally small girl. Source: Wikipedia.

A very interesting aspect is that it is a Symbolist play adapted numerous time, but especially by Debussy as an opera, that I'm sure Lestat has **convinced** Louis to watch 😄

Also on Wikipedia: "A brief summary of the play will concentrate best on Mélisande. At the beginning of the play she has just escaped from a failed marriage that has so traumatized her that she scarcely remembers either it or her past. She marries Golaud with no choice of her own, and remains essentially distant from him. The audience realize she is falling in love with Pelléas long before she does. On her deathbed she has quite forgotten her final meeting with Pelléas and his death, and dies without realizing that she is dying. This and the whole play—for none of the other characters are wiser—expresses a sense that human beings understand neither themselves nor each other nor the world. The problem is not simply human blindness, but the lack of a fixed and definable reality to be known. This is the Maeterlinck who paved the way for the plays of Samuel Beckett.

A key element in the play is the setting, whether visible in the stage scenery or described in the dialogue. The action takes place in an ancient, decaying castle, surrounded by deep forest, which only occasionally lets sunlight in, and with caverns underneath it that breathe infected air and are in danger of collapse. As numerous critics have pointed out, all this symbolizes the dominating power throughout the action of a destiny fatal to mankind. "

I just love how specific this is, how appropriate and how evocative the whole story is of Louis and Lestat, and I love how Louis does remember it and includes it in his Dreamstat version of it in Paris 🙈

[bronzetomatoes]

They are playing Mel Bonis' Suite en trio Op.59 I. Sérénade (@moomoorare 's mcytblr fanart fest, day 13: music)

[volumina-vetustiora]

Aestivus Dolor Summertime Sadness

verba a Lana Regali scripta, converta a me lyrics by Lana Del Rey, translated by me

basia me discedens aestivus dolor dicere tibi vellem te optimam, amor

vestem rubram indui nocte salto in luna pallenti comam meam regie affixi nudae pede vigor est mihi

o di boni, in aere id sentio tympana pulsari audio mel, in sensu tota ardeo nihil iam me perterret

basia me discedens aestivus dolor dicere tibi vellem te optimam, amor

mihi est aestivus dolor aestivus dolor mi est aestivus dolor

me ut fulmen sentio per oram propere pergo caram malam bona habeo laeta moriar si peribo

o di boni, in aere id sentio tympana pulsari audio mel, in sensu tota ardeo nihil iam me perterret

basia me discedens aestivus dolor dicere tibi vellem te optimam, amor

mihi est aestivus dolor aestivus dolor mi est aestivus dolor

fors te caream semper sicut stellae sole carent in caelo sero melius quam numquam etsi discessisti ego pergo

mihi est aestivus dolor aestivus dolor mi est aestivus dolor

basia me discedens aestivus dolor dicere tibi vellem te optimam, amor

mihi est aestivus dolor aestivus dolor mi est aestivus dolor

[lesser-known-composers]

MÉLANIE HÉLÈNE BONIS (1858-1937) - Sonata in F major, opus 67 (1905)

1. Moderato quasi Andante, Allegretto 2. Très lent 3. Moderato molto, Allegro con fuoco

Božo Paradžik, double bass & Hansjacob Staemmler, piano

[elmartillosinmetre]

Mi crítica del concierto de Antonio Oyarzábal esta noche en el Espacio Turina.

[holyfied]

@singofus asked: lay all your burdens to rest . (Dys being cute to Mel)

she  looks  up  at  the  dark  and  winged  creature  above  her  ,  bloody  and  fanged  .  heaving  breath  does  not  come  from  the  multitude  of  mouths  ,  but  rather  from  between  exposed  ribs  ,  breathing  from  the  body  directly  .  hooked  claws  ,  designed  for  sinking  into  the  pelt  of  prey  and  yanking  them  to  a  sudden  stop  ,  sink  into  the  earth  ,  cutting  roots  and  worms  with  their  length  .  there  is  some  amount  of  appendages  .  she  cannot  count  them  ;  they  keep  changing  .  

overwhelming  black  shattered  with  spiky  white  and  pulsating  red  ;  rolling  yellow  and  hypnotic  purple  and  dripping  pink  and  heaven-sent  pearlescent  ,  in  dashes  and  smears  across  irises  ,  pads  ,  and  exposed  organs  .  even  the  BONES  are  black  .  something  slithers  in  the  grass  —  a  broken  limb  ?  a  tail  ?  a  snake  taking  this  opportunity  to  flee  ?  as  if  something  as  banal  as  a  snake  exists  in  this  space  .

here  she  stands  before  a  MONSTER  ,  whose  ask  resonates  somewhere  in  the  soft  ,  ichor  soaked  entrails  of  her  body  ,  that  silken  wet  warmth  that  welcomes  an  undoing  .  

a  pale  hand  ,  cold  as  winter’s  moonlight  ,  reaches  up  and  settles  between  an  assortment  of  eyes  ,  a  region  that  may  be  called  the  forehead  in  animals  whose  bodies  obey  the  wet  laws  of  biology  and  physics  .  she  is  being  looked  at  now  ,  and  she  gives  a  crooked  smile  that  does  not  show  her  own  long  teeth  ,  hooked  for  prey  work  much  the  same  as  the  earthen  claws  .  black  and  white  lips  part  ,  and  the  emotion  does  not  match  her  eyes  .  

❛  and  where  shall  i  lay  them  ?  ❜  she  asks  ,  her  voice  a  whisper  .  

it  has  been  difficult  as  of  late  ,  managing  the  unwieldy  personal  desires  she  now  has  ,  in  concert  with  her  responsibilities  to  both  realm  and  throne  .  tonight  is  one  such  night  she  could  throw  herself  into  her  work  ,  into  guiding  her  ghouls  and  poltergeists  and  phantoms  ,  sending  them  to  every  curve  of  the  world  until  they  stirred  up  enough  madness  to  satisfy  the  hunger  within  her  .  

it  is  a  different  hunger  that  rises  now  .  

the  inverted  ,  black  iron  crown  atop  her  head  ,  jagged  points  pressing  down  to  her  scalp  with  chains  fit  to  enslave  a  mouse  decorating  them  ,  swooping  in  dangling  arcs  by  her  ears  and  temple  ,  slowly  fades  away  .  it  is  replaced  with  her  traditional  diadem  ,  clean  and  clear  and  decorated  with  gemstones  this  part  of  the  world  has  never  seen  .  her  body  ,  split  in  black  and  white  ,  is  bare  —  long  limbs  shrink  back  to  their  proportionate  sizes  ,  rendering  her  much  smaller  than  the  monster  before  her  .  she  keeps  her  hand  between  the  eyes  ,  letting  it  slip  as  she  grows  smaller  ,  between  feather  ,  fur  ,  bone  ,  and  blood  ,  until  all  that  remains  is  just  a  hand  upon  where  a  nose  should  be  .  she  rises  to  her  tiptoes  and  rests  her  forehead  against  the  bony  plate  there  .  there  is  the  sound  of  a  wet  tongue  slicking  sharp  teeth  .  

❛  tell  me  where  ,  and  my  burdens  and  their  bearer  shall  be  yours  ,  ❜  she  murmurs  ,  two-toned  lips  brushing  black  horn  against  her  mouth  .    

[halcyon-days-no-more]

Gargoyle Enid

Enid is the rookery sister of Elodie, Mel, Quinn and Shae. She is also the bio-sister of Willow - let's just say he take's after one of their parent while she takes after the other.

The inspiration for the bony protrusions at her wrists is Kai from the Ishimura Clan. Another uncommon feature of hers is the club like end of her tail that is made up of a series of bony plates - think Draco's tail from Dragon Heart.

[anjyfae]

Bony Mel 😎👍