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Kvinneskjebner i musikaler

Kvinneskjebner i musikaler

Jeg bivånet i dag en kabaret/konsert med studenter fra Musikkonservatoriet i Tromsø, hvor "ulike kvinneskjebner" stod i fokus. Det handlet, som det ofte gjør, om "kjærlighet, lidenskap, håp, tap og lengsel", den brennende solen som menneskeheten er dømt til å dreie seg rundt. Det var en snerten forestilling med fire kvinnelige sangere som, akkompagnert av piano, gitar og slagverk, fremførte musikk fra 1920-tallet og frem til nyere tider, blant annet fra Tolvskillingsoperaen, Chess og Chicago.

Ved mitt bord satt det en ung kvinne som applauderte alle stykkene, unntatt ett, og jeg falt i tanker om hvorfor. Det var ingenting ved fremføringen som smakte rart, så kanskje det var temaet som foruroliget henne. Jeg får vel aldri vite det, men trøster meg med at det ligger en hel roman allerede der. Stykket var "Ballad of the Soldier's Wife" av Kurt Weill:

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From the ancient city of Prague?
From Prague came a pair of high-heeled shoes,
With a kiss or two came the high-heeled shoes
From the ancient city of Prague.

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From Oslo over the sound?
From Oslo there came a collar of fur,
How it pleases her, the little collar of fur
From Oslo over the sound.

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From the wealth of Amsterdam?
From Amsterdam he got her a hat,
She looked sweet in that,
In her little Dutch hat
From the wealth of Amsterdam.

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From Brussels in Belgian land?
From Brussels he sent her laces so rare
To have and to wear,
Oh, those laces so rare
From Brussels in Belgian land.

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From Paris, city of light?
In Paris he got her a silken gown,
'twas ended in town, that silken gown
From Paris, city of light.

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From the south, from Bucharest?
From Bucharest he sent her a shirt
Embroidered and pert, that Rumanian shirt
From the south, from Bucharest.

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From the far-off Russian land?
From Russia there came just a widow's veil
For her dead to bewail in her widow's veil
From the far-off Russian land,
From the far-off Russian land.

And all that jazz ...

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