êîììåíòèðîâàííûé ñïèñîê 1960 "Äæîàí Áàýç"

All My Trials (Traditional)

Hush little baby, don't you cry,
You know your mama was born to die
All my trials, Lord, soon be over

The river of Jordan is muddy and cold
Well it chills the body but not the soul,
All my trials, Lord, soon be over

I've got a little book with pages three,
And every page spells liberty,
All my trials, Lord, soon be over

Too late my brothers, too late
But never mind
All my trials, Lord, soon be over

If living were a thing that money could buy,
You know the rich would live and the poor would die,
All my trials, Lord, soon be over

There grows a tree in Paradise,
And the pilgrims call it the tree of life,
All my trials, Lord, soon be over

Too late my brothers, too late
But never mind
All my trials, Lord soon be over 
All my trials, Lord soon be over 
Ñâåðèë ñ ôîíîãðàììîé
from other versions:

The Christians call it the tree of life,

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All My Trials (Death’s Lullaby)

Hush, little baby don’t you cry,
You know your Mama was born to die.
All my trials, Lord, soon be over.
The river of Jordan is muddy and cold,
It chills the body, but not the soul.
All my trials, Lord, soon be over.
There grows a tree in Paradise,
And the pilgrims call it, the tree of life.
All my trials, Lord, soon be over.
Hush little baby, don’t you cry ...

“All My Trials” opens with the sound of the Udu, a
clay pot drum from Nigeria that is believed tore
present ancestral voices in certain ceremonies
there. This is just one of the subtle, delicate
evocations of death (always a potent subject in
Crumb’s music) in this tenderly devastating song
that may have originated in the Bahamas. The
opening phrase traces the mixolydian scale,
peaking prominently on its flatted seventh, which
gives the entire melody a certain harmonic
ambiguity when harmonized traditionally. Crumb,
ever alert to melodic transformational possibilities
throughout the entire Songbook cycle,
reharmonizes the end of the melody with a deft
Mahlerian touch, recharacterizing the cadential
tonic as an achingly poignant tritone. In the
breaks between verses, one can hear a bird or a
soul flying free, and a melody in the vibraphone
that closely resembles “La luna está muerta,
muerta...” (The moon is dead, dead...) from
Crumb’s own Night of the Four Moons. (Although
it should be noted that whereas Crumb generally
indicates explicit quotations from his own music,
there is no such indication in the score at this
point.) Finally, in the break between the second
and third verses, at the center of the setting, the
recurring diminished pentatonic figure is briefly
suggested in a chorale-like phrase in the
vibraphones, ending with the rhythm of “muerta,
muerta” just before the ancestral Udu reappears.