Welcome to the last concert of our 2024 - 2025 season, advocating for the LGBTQIA+ community through new choral music (or choral classics presented in a new way!). We acknowledge the many challenges our world is facing. We are more determined than ever to continue our mission of fostering a community that celebrates the significance of presence, love, and advocacy for our LGBTQIA+ community.

We continue to create a community that nurtures love, understanding, and positivity. Your support can help us achieve this!

Your donation, regardless of its size, will make a significant difference in the lives of your LGBTQIA+ neighbors and help you become an advocate for the arts and your community.

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This concert will last 1 hour with a brief intermission. Below are our featured composers. See you soon!

Home, Here, Now

Glória in excélsis Deo
et in terra pax homínibus bonæ voluntátis.

Laudámus te,
benedícimus te,
adorámus te,

glorificámus te,
grátias ágimus
tibi propter magnam
glóriam tuam,

Dómine Deus,
Rex cæléstis,
Deus Pater omnípotens.
Dómine Fili Unigénite,
Iesu Christe,
Dómine Deus, Agnus Dei,
Fílius Patris,
qui tollis peccáta mundi,
miserére nobis;
qui tollis peccáta mundi,
súscipe deprecatiónem nostram.
Qui sedes ad déxteram Patris,
miserére nobis.

Quóniam tu solus Sanctus,
tu solus Dóminus,
tu solus Altíssimus,

Iesu Christe,
cum Sancto Spíritu:
in glória Dei Patris.
Amen.
Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace
to people of good will.
We praise you,
we bless you,
we adore you,
we glorify you,

we give you thanks
for your great glory,
Lord God, heavenly King,
O God almighty Father.

Lord Jesus Christ,
Only Begotten Son,
Lord God, Lamb of God,
Son of The Father,
you take away the sins of the world,
have mercy on us;
you take away the sins of the world,
receive our prayer;
you are seated at the right hand of the Father
have mercy on us.
For you alone are the Holy One,
you alone are the Lord,
you alone are the Most High,
Jesus Christ,
with the Holy Spirit,
in the glory of God the Father.
Amen.
Bleib bei uns, denn es will Abend werden
Und der Tag hat sich geneiget
O bleib bei uns, denn es will Abend werden
Und der Tag hat sich geneiget
O bleib bei uns, denn es will Abend werden
Translation by John Rutter (b. 1945):
Bide with us, for evening shadows darken,
And the day will soon be over, soon be over,
O bide with us, for evening shadows darken.
In response to the question, “How do you define home?”, I turned to the poetry of my good friend and multidisciplinary artist, Rūta Kuzmickas: a Lithuanian-born pianist, poet, and visual artist who has lived in many different parts of the world and has a unique interpretation of what home means to her. Rūta’s way of making sense of her world was to devise a multi-movement poem, organized as a compass with each cardinal direction depicting a place she has lived: Houston (south), Lithuania (east), and Las Vegas (west). north speaks globally of North America. As the poem circulates through each direction, a stronger sense of self-identity emerges. Each movement begins with the physical elements of the location:
“one nation, fatherland…”
“the sea resumed its melancholy drone…”
“sleepless birds amassing on the powerlines…”
“golden spines of sandstone…”
And ends with both a personal and universal sentiment:
“…for all”
“…my hyperborean blue heart”
“…to allocate us temporary shores”
“…a home within the knuckles of my hands”
Like all of us, Rūta’s sense of self-identity and home is shaped by the collection of environments and experiences with which she grew up. Each location holds a different piece of home within her. Each ecosystem carries with it a different emotional emblem. A house is not always home, but do the physical elements of our environment elucidate part of us? Does how we define home define who we are?
-Alex Berko

this land was made for golden spines
of sandstone, every water drop
a talisman, each curve of wind
a chisel sent to document the hours
thirst prolonged, the fractured earth
unpolished vagrant dust set out to calcify
a home within the knuckles of my hands
– Rūta Kuzmickas
I came across the text for Bell Tower in March 2020, just as COVID-19 rapidly changed our world. I found myself returning to the poem day after day for weeks as I began to process my own grief and I knew I couldn’t ignore this creative pull. One thing I found particularly striking and timely about this text was how Rilke calls us not to run from the discomfort of our pain, but to live with it, because it doesn’t stay static. Rather, if we let it, our pain will turn to reveal the other side of the coin, which is our love for the world — a powerful and enduring message.
In my musical setting I aimed to depict the journey of healing described in this text. As you listen to Bell Tower, you’ll hear the music gradually unfold from a gentle and almost eerily quiet opening to a powerful, impassioned, and roaring finale!
-Katerina Gimon
Text
Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.
And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.
— Rainer Maria Rilke (Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29)
Translated by Joanna Macy & Anita Barrows (used by permission)
Libertad (Freedom) is a word that Germán and I have internalized in many ways because of our Venezuelan roots. This word is in our national anthem, all over social media, textbooks, messages, and dreams. We have a complicated relationship with it because our country is currently fighting for its freedom from a political party that has brought a humanitarian crisis to our community in Venezuela. The freedom to be, to choose, to love, to make mistakes, to try—these are all things we hope to have as humans. When we moved, him to Uruguay and me to the United States, we realized the opportunity the new places brought. Everything changes, but what if those changes allow you to explore who you are? Slowly , but surely , you begin to see that your comfort zone begins to expand, you and new roots (or create ones!), new voices that share kindness, and in many ways, you and yourself.
Un cambio en las expresiones,
Pero mil historias nuevas para contar .
Un cambio en las estaciones,
Pero después de las nubes, el mismo sol.
Un cambio en las tradiciones,
Pero horas para aprender a cantar y bailar
Un cambio en las emociones,
Pero con la libertad de ser vos.
Poet: Germán Barboza
A change in expressions,
But a thousand new stories to tell.
A change in seasons,
But after the clouds, the same sun.
A change in traditions,
But hours to learn to sing and dance.
A change in emotions,
But with the freedom to be yourself.
Translation: Carlos Cordero
I was commissioned by Laura Nevitt to write “Free” for a pride service for the choir at First Parish Unitarian Universalist in Needham, MA in June, 2022. Drawing from my own experiences as a gay and genderqueer person, I wanted to write a piece that captured what I want and need but haven’t always received. And while I wanted to be specific, I also wanted the piece to be accessible to listeners and performers, and relatable to as many people as possible. The piece is a conversation between a minority, asking for basic human needs and rights, and the majority who receive them warmly. This is a piece where all are embraced and have a place to call home, and I hope that this is an accessible and inspiring piece that adds to the growing presence of openly queer-affirming repertoire that counteracts prejudice and privilege, and brings communities together.
I need a place to call home,
Somewhere that I can let go
Of the tensions I hold
That are crowding my soul.
I need a place to be heard,
I need a space to be seen,
And I need a warm, loving shoulder
On which I can lean.
Let me be free to love.
Let me be free to dance.
Let me be free to hold somebody’s hand.
Let me be free to sing.
Let me be free to breathe.
Let me be free to have a family.
Let me be.
I’ll be your place to call home,
Somewhere that you can let go
Of the tensions you hold
That are crowding your soul.
I’ll be your place to be heard,
I’ll be your space to be seen,
And I’ll be a warm, loving shoulder
On which you can lean.
You can be free to love.
You can be free to dance.
You can be free to hold somebody’s hand.
You can be free to sing.
You can be free to breathe.
You can be free to have a family.
I won’t let you fall to the wayside because
I don’t understand.
I won’t let you fall to the shadows when
you need a helping hand
Because I need you and you need me to
be.
I’ll be your place to call home,
Somewhere that you can let go
Of the tensions you hold
That are crowding your soul.
I’ll be your place to be heard,
I’ll be your space to be seen,
And I’ll be a warm, loving shoulder
You can be free to love.
You can be free to dance.
You can be free to hold somebody’s hand.
You can be free to sing.
You can be free to breathe.
You can be free to have a family.
You are free. / Let me be. / You can be.
You have a place to call home.

* Denotes Commissioned World Premiere

** Denotes TTBB voicing premiere

Un/Heard - Carlos Cordero, Founder and Artistic Director

Central Presbyterian Church - Austin, TX. August 25th, 2024 | 5:00 PM

Un/Heard Artists

We are a tenor-bass choir made up of LGBTQ+ people and allies. Our artists encompass many cultures, experiences, ages, and skills, making Un/Heard a unique ensemble that advocates for the LGBTQ+ community in Austin, TX.