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by Erling Wold

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    CD in a beautiful bound book with notes, libretto, photos, track listing, stories.

    Includes unlimited streaming of UKSUS via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 12 Erling Wold releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of A Little Girl Dreams of Taking the Veil, on its 25th anniversary, UKSUS, Rattensturm, Sub Pontio Pilato, Certitude and Joy, Missa Beati Notkeri Balbuli Sancti Galli Monachi, The Bed You Sleep In, Mordake, and 4 more. , and , .

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Overture 01:22
Boeuf Bub I 01:16
Boeuf Bub II 01:43
A hammer 01:18


The newest chamber opera by Erling Wold, “a true California eccentric and polymath” (Bachtrack) and “The Eric Satie of Berkeley surrealist/minimalist electro-artrock” (Village Voice), UKSUS is a mixture of stories and poems from the OBERIU (The Association for Real Art), a group of Russian writers and artists in Leningrad in the 1930s, of which the best known is the eccentric Daniil Kharms. The San Francisco Chronicle called UKSUS “a feverish mashup of artistic and political history, commentary on vinegar and meatballs, and non sequiturs, all set to Wold’s tangy, versatile score.”

The cast features Timur, the “extravagantly transgressive tenor” (Los Angeles Times) in the role of Kharms, along with the “vocally resplendent” (Opera News) Laura Bohn, mezzo Nikola Printz, and actor Bob Ernst. An ensemble of crossover musicians from the new-music / jazz / classical scenes is conducted by Bryan Nies.

What is amazing about the OBERIU is that, while living in abject fear and panic under Stalin, they laughed and laughed and laughed, loved wordplay and nonsense, rejoiced in absurdity, and held onto that love and joy and laughter to very end, to their ambiguous deaths in custody of The State, the secret police, the NKVD.

Daniil Kharms and his OBERIU friends were born during the time of the Tsars, fancied themselves aristocrats, true individual artists following in the footsteps of Kazimir Malevich and other troublemakers, were caught up in the rise of the proletariat, and died during the time of Stalin and the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union, swallowed by the general horrors of the time that swallowed up so many. During those horrors, while living in abject fear and panic, they laughed and laughed and laughed, loved wordplay and nonsense, rejoiced in absurdity, and held onto that love and joy and laughter to very end, to their ambiguous deaths in custody of The State, the secret police, the NKVD. And so we hope that we, now, living in our own time of horror, among those who impose their piggish and tinpot will on others, can find our own place of exultation, our own reason for continuing in this life, and finally our own triumph over all that works to contain us.


In the days of the Russian Tsar, a man, Ivan Pavlovich Yuvachev, a member of a terrorist group that succeeded in assassinating Tsar Alexander the second, underwent a religious awakening in prison, or, possibly, experienced a mental breakdown, and, under the influence of this belief in his mystical abilities, and on his release from prison, predicted the exact date on which his child would be born. Calling his wife from a telephone owned by Leo Tolstoy, he demanded that she fulfill his prophecy. This she did, and on that day foretold, Daniil Kharms was born.

By the time he came of age, the First World War and Russian revolution had swept away the world his father knew, and had replaced that world with one in which there was great hardship, a terrible time of hunger and fear, from enemies foreign and domestic, to wit, (1) Stalin’s great political purges in which at least a thousand were shot each day and (2) the invasion by Germany which killed millions more.

We have here Kharms, a writer of children’s books who hated children. Let us read from his novella The Old Woman: The offensive shouting of urchins can be heard from the street. I lie there, thinking up various means of execution for them. My favorite one is to infect them all with tetanus so that they suddenly stop moving. Their parents can drag them all home. They will lie in their beds unable even to eat, because their mouths won't open. They will be fed artificially. After a week the tetanus can pass off, but the children will be so feeble that they will have to lie in their beds for a whole month. Then they will gradually start to recover but I shall infect them with a second dose of tetanus and they will all croak.

Siege of Leningrad:

Take for example, the story of Tukhachevsky, Marshal of the Soviet Union, commander in chief of the Red Army, suddenly arrested in 1937, tortured, his confession, which survives, spattered with blood, on trial with eight generals, all the judges terrified, five of them later executed, and Tukhachevsky shot once in the back of the head in the execution chamber in the basement of the prison, the one with the sloping floor for hosing, where his torturer who designed the room was later shot, Tukhachevsky who when accused said “I feel I’m dreaming”, his wife shot, his mother shot, one of his sisters and both his brothers shot, three sisters, two former wives and his quite young daughter sent to the camps, and, since he liked music and befriended various musicians and writers, they too were arrested and shot.

When Kharms was first arrested on the tenth of December 1931, his confession included: “In the book What One Must Prepare for Winter,”a children’s book on preparations for winter, “I substituted a science lesson for the theme of the pioneer camp, and shifted the child’s attention to those things which absolutely need to be prepared for winter.” He was sentenced to three years in prison. Arrested again 23 August 1941 during the Nazi siege of Leningrad for spreading, not in his unpublished adult works, but in those he wrote for children, “slanderous and defeatist sentiments, in an attempt to cause panic and create dissatisfaction with the Soviet government.” He began to show signs of mental distress and was committed to the prison psychiatric hospital. “His delusions are characterized by absurdities,” wrote the prison psychiatrist who examined him. “To keep his thoughts concealed he wraps his head in a head- band or a small rag.” One day, his wife Marina brought him a packet of food, as she had done twice before, during this siege where the residents of the city had begun to eat their pets and one another. But on this day, she was made to wait, and then, after several minutes, was told “Passed away on the second of February” and the packet was thrown back out to her.


God what a terrible way to live STOP iron hands draw me into a pit STOP I've fallen so low and so far that I can never get up STOP I don't know what we will eat today STOP what we will eat in the future I don’t know anymore STOP we hunger STOP
I would like to lie down and sleep like Oblomov
I’m going to the children's book publisher to once again get no money
O Lord who controls the mechanism of the universe, please have pity on these two poor organisms, give us warmth and asylum. And please convince the children's book publisher to deliver a few pennies to this pitiful soul.

There once was a man named Semyonov.
Once Semyonov was walking and lost his handkerchief.
Semyonov looked for his handkerchief and lost his hat.
Semyonov looked for the hat and lost his jacket.
Semyonov looked for his jacket and lost his boots.
"Ah," said Semyonov, "here you lose everything. I prefer to go home."
Semyonov headed home and got lost.
"No," said Semyonov, "I would like to sit down and rest."
Semyonov sat on a rock and fell asleep.

In the name of all that’s holy, I’d better tell you of Himmelkumov.
Himmelkumov stared at a woman and commanded her by his thoughts to turn her head toward him.
But it didn’t work.
Then Himmelkumov commanded her by his thoughts to not turn her head to him.
That did no good either.

There they go by once again
There they turn to flee
The kisser number seven
The cunt number three!

To the barricades we will run, we will run, we will
To the barricades we will run, and we’ll get there first
In the name of freedom we will run, we will run, we will
In the name of freedom we will run, and we all will die
And for Stalin we will shout, we will shout, we shout
and for Stalin we will shout three times! Hurrah! Hurrah!

One day, Orlov ate too many mashed peas and died.
And Krylov, after hearing this died too.
And Spiridonov simply died.
And Spiridonov’s wife fell off the cupboard and died as well.
And Spiridonov’s children drowned in the pond.
And Spiridonov’s grandmother took to the bottle and wandered the highways.
And Mikhailov stopped combing his hair and got scabies.
And Kruglov sketched a woman with a whip in her hand and went crazy.
And Perechrjostow was sent by telegraph four hundred rubles,
and became so arrogant that he was fired from his job.
They are all good people but they don’t know how to keep it together.

Schujev! Schujev! Schujev!

You must drink some vinegar, ladies and gentlemen!
I welcome Schujev’s idea.
Let us all drink vinegar together.
Ladies and gentlemen!
I highly recommend that we drink vinegar together!
I am sure that we will drink vinegar.
But I don’t want to drink vinegar.
Whoever mutinies is a scoundrel.
Death to the mutineers!

Mama, you pissed the bed again!
You shouldn’t always piss in the bed!

You are sewing.
What silliness is that.
I do love your pussy hole, it smells quite hearty and is wet ...
That is abhorrent! revolting! distasteful!
To my taste are your juices delightful!
That is abhorrent! disgusting! distasteful!
I am prepared!
Your pussy to lick, to promptly slurp,
and your slime to swallow, until it ends with a burp!

Mamma, not again!
I told you to call me if you need to go pee pee!
You don’t ever listen to me!
E-e, I will do what you tell me.

A little old woman had only four teeth in all her mouth.
Three above and one below.
With these teeth the little old woman could not chew.
In fact, they were of no use to her at all.
And so the litle woman decided to pull out all her teeth
and to have a corkscrew inserted into the lower gums and a small pliers above.
The little old woman drank ink, ate beets and cleaned her ear with matches.
A little old lady had four rabbits.
Three above and one below.
The little old woman caught these hares with her bare hands and put them in small cages.
The rabbits cried and scratched their ears with their hind paws.
The rabbits drank ink and ate beets.
The rabbits drank ink and ate beets!

They should just leave me alone.
How is that going to happen?
Just don’t open it and that will be that.
They will start to scream!

Let them scream.
Someone’s come to visit me, he knocks on my door.
I say “come in!” and he comes in and says “greetings! it’s great I caught you at home!”
And then I punch him in the face, and put my boot in his crotch, and he falls to the ground in pain.
And then I give him a heel to the eyes.
What’s he doing whoring around here when not invited?

Elizabeth Bam, open up!
This house, made of wood, called a hut,
in which a candle burns and crackles.
Elizabeth Bam, open up!
We know you’re not sleeping!
We’re kicking down the door!

Hello, good day, how’s it going?
Welcome! Welcome!
I am going to be appointed a Capuchin friar.
What’s all the fuss about flowers?
It smells much better between a woman’s legs.

How are you?
Good, it's just that Christopher Columbus stuck a bicycle into our cook.
Oh dear, the poor little cook!
The poor thing is sitting in the kitchen writing a letter and the bike is sticking out of her!

Dearest Marina.
My shoulders are like the rising sun.
My lower limbs are like pickles.

Hurrah! I have said nothing!
No, no, nothing, nothing. g. g. psch. psch.
Ku - ni - na - ga - ni - li - wa - ni - bauuu.

Murka the kitten
Milk round her little face
jumped on the pillow
jumped on the oven
sprang sprung spring
hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop.
Two doors, the shirt, two doors, the rope.
Two carpenters just came in and wanted to know what this is all about.
Meatballs, meatballs! It's all about meatballs.

A man, who was hungry, sat at the table and ate meatballs.
And his wife stood in front of him and said and said,
the meatballs contain too little meat.
And he ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate until he felt a lethal heaviness in stomach, and then, pushing away the treacherous food, he trembled and wept.
His golden pocket watch stopped ticking; his hair turned lighter and his eyes became bright as the sun;
His ears fell to the floor like golden autumn leaves from the poplar tree.
And suddenly he died.

The tobacco was all gone, and Himmelkumov didn’t have any more to smoke.
He sucked on the empty pipe, but that only worsened his agony.
So one hour went by, two hours ...
And suddenly the tobacco came back.

Pushkin, go to the pub and bring us a bottle of beer and some peas.
Aha, peas and a half bottle of beer, go to the pub and from there back here.
No, not half a bottle and a bottle of beer, and not in the pub, get some peas to go!
Now, I’ll hide my coat in the pub and I’ll put a half a pea on my head.
If you buy a chicken, check if it has teeth. If it has teeth, it's no chicken!

When Pushkin broke his legs, he used a board with wheels to get around on.
His friends tease him by grabbing at wheels.
Pushkin loved to throw rocks.
Whenever he saw some rocks he’d get to it.
Sometimes he would just stand there red-faced, waving his arms and throwing rocks!
Pushkin had four sons - all idiots!
One of them couldn’t even sit in a chair - he kept falling off.
But Pushkin didn’t know how to sit on a chair either.
You could just die laughing: everyone sitting at the table, and at one end Pushkin is falling off his chair, and at the other end his son.

Да хе-хе-хе,
Да бух-бух!
Да бе-бе-бе,
Да трюх-трюх!
Да ха-ха-ха,
Да гуль-гуль!
Да га-га-га,
Да буль-буль!

I see the world’s distorted appearance,
I hear the whispers of the lyres performance,
I grasp at the tip of a character
and pick out the word from the cabinet,
I move the cabinet into its place.
Thanks to its doughy materiality.

Out of overwhelming curiosity there once leaned an older woman too far out the window.
She lost her equilibrium, then she fell and smashed to bits.
Fell and then she smashed to bits!
Then there leaned a second older woman out of the window,
so at the dead to look down upon.
But out of an overwhelming curiosity she also lost her balance,
then she fell and smashed to bits.
Fell and then she smashed to bits!
Then fell a third older woman out of the window.
Fell and then she smashed to bits!
And then a fourth one and then a fifth one.
Fell and then they broke their necks!
When the sixth older woman out the window had fallen ...
I am sick of all this watching!

I am interested only in nonsense, and only that which has no practical meaning.
I am interested in life only in its absurd aspects.
I am interested in worship and church singing.
All manner of ceremony.
Pocket watches and chronometers.
The foundation of human sexual drive.
I am interested in prose; cinema and photography; ballet.
Intimate human relationships, a perfect sound.
I am interested in a number of simple phenomena: fistfights, lunch and dance events.
Meat and dough.
Vodka and beer.
Popular astronomy.
The lack of persuasiveness of mathematical proofs.
The construction of the circle.
A chessboard as a special world.
The preparation of certain dishes.
Post mortem examination of the dead.
How something can be an isolated case.

What people do with themselves when they are alone.
Human faces.
To wash, to bathe, the bathtub.
Cleanliness and filth.
The wheel, sticks, walking sticks, staves.
The Song of the Sirens
Train stations.
A cupboard.
A colony of ants.
The feeling of the tropics.
Paper. Ink. Pencil.
Small smooth-haired canines.
A pipe. Smoking.
The dream.
The Kabbalah.
People of the Twentieth Century.
Homemade philosophy.
Artworks without theoretical foundation.
The transformation and destruction of space.

You have torn apart the stream of memory.
Give me your eyes!
I will open a window in my skull!
Only a fly is your life, and your desire, a gluttonous pig.
The thunder will lay low the helmet of your head.
Pe is - the inkwell of your words.
Trr - your desires.
Agalton - your tender memory.
La la la la la la la la la la la la ...

Michelangelo! Where is your desk?
I greet you, desk.
For how many years have you supported my lamp and books and also many a colorful meatball.
I crawled underneath and behind you with pride,
and collected the fuzzy beetles of thoughts.
What triggered you, madman to hurl to the floor
all that man has entrusted to your expertise.
Hold still, you woody bastard!

Stool Side Table Garbage Pail
Tile Oven Cuckoo Bath
Ball Broom Clothing Trunk
Shirt Iron Forge Fleas
Door is on the hinge
Tassels on a towel, four in total
Wooden stick screwed into a broom
Buttons on the roof, eight in total

Ноты вижу
вижу мрак
вижу лилию Дурак
серДе кокус
впрочем нет
мир Не фокус
в прочем Да

Next thing is longer than previous thing
and foregoing is thicker than onion.

The Divan-Song:

Der Mensch ist aus drei Teilen gebaut, drei Teilen gebaut, drei Teilen gebaut.
Хэу-ля-ля, дрюм-дрюм-ту-ту!
Aus drei Teilen ist der Mensch.
Ein Bart, ein Aug und fünfzehn Händ, und fünfzehn Händ, und fünfzehn Händ.
Хэу-ля-ля, дрюм-дрюм-ту-ту!
Und eine Rippe.
Aber nicht Hände sind‘s fünfzehn Stück, fünfzehn Stück, fünfzehn Stück.
Хэу-ля-ля, дрюм-дрюм-ту-ту!
Fünfzehn Stück, aber nicht Hände.
Aus drei Teilen gebaut ist Fedot, gebaut ist Fedot, gebaut ist Fedot.
Хэу-ля-ля, дрюм-дрюм-ту-ту!
Gebaut ist Fedot aus drei Teilen.
Aber davon rede ich nicht, rede ich nicht, rede ich nicht.
Хэу-ля-ля, дрюм-дрюм-ту-ту!
Davon rede ich nicht.
Aber Rippen sind‘s fünfzehn Stück, fünfzehn Stück, fünfzehn Stück.
Хэу-ля-ля, дрюм-дрюм-ту-ту!
Nicht die richtigen fünfzehn Stück.

There once lived an old woman.
She lived and lived and lived and burned in the oven.
Served her right.
At least that was what the painter Michelangelo said.
What else?
One time the painter Michelangelo went to the Panama Canal.
What for?
To buy some rubber.
What for?
To make a rubber band.
What for?
To stretch it out.
What else?
Oh yes: The painter Michelangelo destroyed his clock.
The clock was running well, but he simply shattered it...

Time machine, go to Hell!
Stop ticking off the minutes!
What I recently was,
I will continue to be.
It was my will to be a glove,
to be an ox, a sphere,
tossed through the air
full to bursting.

In my opinion, words that start with a "P" mean "sphere"..
For example, "sphere"?
No, that is a foreign word.
And "circle"?
That is also a foreign word.

So it is true after all, and there are consequences.
How strange it would be if two events occurred simultaneously.

A riddle:
And what if instead of two events, there were eight soap bubbles?
Then naturally we would lie down together.
The answer was crisp and clear.
A man was wrapped in paper.
There is no paper.
The winter is here.

So it’s winter.
Time to turn on the ovens.
Or what do you think?
What do you have there?
A hammer.
So what do you think, how will winter be this year, cold or warm?
Taking into account that the summer was rainy, it will likely be a colder winter.
But you know I am never cold.
What does that mean, ow?
I have a headache!
I don’t know.
I’m not in any pain.
Son of a bitch!
Hitting me constantly!

That is my arm.
How are you going to wave now?
With a handkerchief.
Ruckrr apprr wustrr wustrr I'm wearing someone else's arm
ruckrr apprr wustrr wustrr
ruckrr apprr wustrr wu

Where is the office clock?
If this little clockie dangling
its two weights a-hanging down
oldish clockie while still pending
flew an arc without a frown
ruckrr apprr wustrr wustrr
I destroyed the running clock
in its place the Karabister
on a plate the ruckrr apprr
right from milk-white clockface down
pancake’s winding wustrr wustrr
wrapped into his dressing gown
Karabister sits enthroned

Where is the Karabister
where is Pushkin ruckrr
single handed rruckrr apprr
heals the ruckrr apprr wustrr
his lost arm adjusting aptly
fixing fingers with a hammer
Ruckrr apprr wustrr hammers
Ruckrr apprr wustrr beats.

The Karabister!
Was it you who have mutilated this citizen?
I pulled his arm right out of his sleeve.
Ex bex!

You are a god of nine legs
Show me your belly with the numbers
And point to the hour of your death
with your wooden head.

I will not speak to you
Because I am stronger
Because I am more worthy
Because I am a lantern
Because I am a cavern
Because cause cause c c c c

Where were we?
Oh right!
The woman is a workbench of love.

Ivan Ivanovich tells us
Kika Koka Ku tells us
Over the fence tells us
Tells us of the railroad
Why the railroad?
We don’t want the railroad
Dearest needle dinnsunn da
Di da ka ku dinnsunn da
Didelt to the dinnsunn da
There once was a strong man.
Was a carpenter this man.
Smeared with glue this man.
Made some chairs, made some tables
With a hammer made some tables
Out of walnut made some tables
And they called this man Ivan
Like his father named Ivan
He was also called Ivan
And he had a wife
No mother, just a wife
But so how is she called now
I simply do not know now
I have just forgotten now
Ivan Ivanytsch to her speaks
Very smartly to her speaks
Please kiss me, he to her speaks
His wife said to him: you pig!
You are my husband and a pig!
Go to hell you pig!
I don’t want to be with you
I don’t want to do it
Since I don’t I will not
Ivan Ivanytsch takes his handkerchief
And unfolds his handkerchief
Puts it back, his handkerchief
Will you not, he said to her
What to do, he said to her
I’ll leave now, he said to her
His wife said to him: you pig!
You are my husband and a pig!
Go to hell you pig!
I know I am not for you
I do not want to know you
I want to spit on you
Ivan Ivanytsch was dumb
Among other things he was dumb
Dideldei he was dumb
And the wife kicked him again.
Wound up and pow! again.
And then hit him once again.
Punched him on the ear after
Knocked his teeth out after
Struck him again after!
Ivan Ivanytsch gasps for air
Gasps and gasps for air
Gasp p p p p p p ps for air
Will you not, he said to her
What to do, he said to her
I’ll leave now, he said to her
His wife said to him: you pig!
You are my husband and a pig!
Go to hell you pig!
So he went and went away
With the coach he road away
With the train he went away
And the wife stayed here
And so I stayed here
And we both stayed here
ля ля ля ля ля ля ля
ля ля ля ля ля ля ля
ля ля ля ля ля ля ля
Дрица-дрица умца-ца

I pulled a sphere out of my head.
Я вынул из головы шар.
I took the sphere from my head.
Put it back. Put it back. Put it back.
No, I will not put it back!
Нет, не положу!
Then simply don’t.
OK, I won’t put it back.
All right then.
I’ve done it, I’ve won.
вот я и победил!
Yes, you’ve won, now just calm down!
No, I won’t calm down!
Нет, не успокоюсь!
You are a mathematician, but, the truth is, you’re not too smart.
No, I’m smart and I know a lot!
Нет, умён и знаю очень много!
A whole lot, but it’s all crap.

And here begins the second part
the crowd says its last goodbyes to the individual.

Germans plunder Russian land.
I can’t believe it.
Give heed. The plunder.
Shame on the Germans, shame on Kant.
Sorry flies away, a boring joke.
Farewell sea, farewell sand,
Oh how high you are, Oh mountain land!

Lord have mercy upon us!
The fish and the oaks present to him a wine grape
and a little bit of terminal joy.
The oaks said to him:
We’re growing.
The fish said to him:
We're swimming.
The oaks then asked him:
What time is it?
The fishes:
Please have mercy upon us if it’s OK with you.
What will he say to the fishes and the oaks?
He can no longer say:
Thank you.
The river running majestically over the face of the earth.
The majestically flowing river.
The river like a Czar.
He took his leave, so, then.
Like so.
And he lay like a notebook along the banks of the river.
Notebook, farewell!

Does writing benefit the people?
It brings to them wondrous benefits
And why?
Because a knock on their head starts them thinking.
To think about what?
The value of life.
Who receives the benefits.
And if it does, what then?
It depends.
Where the stars go, why they go, and what will be, even if they stand still.
Can you explain that more closely?
So. Now we consider the air.
What power does it have?
It does have power.
Its strength is in its body, and so it goes for man.
And when he does not go?
Then he sits.
Sits on his bones, one against another, until he dies.
And when he dies?
Then he is a worm.
Thank you. Now I understand how everything is connected.

Let’s go!
What is this?
Here, in this book, is written all our desires and their fulfillment.
Read this book and you will understand how vain our desires are.
And you will also understand how easy it is to fulfill the desires of another,
and how hard it is to fulfill a desire of your own.
What’s with solemn tone?
That’s the way Indian chiefs talk.
From such a book, one can speak only in loftiest tones.
I take off my hat just thinking about it.
And does one wash one’s hands before touching book?
Yes, one’s hands must be washed.
You should wash your feet too, just in case.
That is not clever.
Moreover, it’s rude.
So what’s book about anyway?
The title of this book is a secret.
The name of this book is ____
My God!
What is this?
Comrade Dzhugashvili!
Where am I?
Where are you?
I can’t see you!
And where are you?
What are these spheres?
What should I do?
Pushkin, can you hear me?
Yes! But what happened?
And what’s with all these spheres?
Can you move?
Yes! But do you see the spheres, Dzhugashvili?
What spheres?
Aaah! Pushkin!

Gradually man loses his shape and turns into a sphere. And, having become a sphere, he loses all his desires.


released May 17, 2019

Libretto by VADA: Yulia Izmaylova und Felix Strasser
from the works of Daniil Kharms, Aleksandr Vvedenskij, Igor Bachterev, Leonid Lipavskij, Marina Malyc, Konstantin Vaginov, Nikolaj Zabolockij
Music by Erling Wold
Conducted by Bryan Nies
Directed by Jim Cave

Austrian recordings conducted by Davorin Mori
English translation by Erling Wold

Pushkin - Timur Bekbosunov
Fefjulka - Laura Bohn
The Old Woman / Stalin / Karabister - Nikola Printz
The Painter Michelangelo - Bob Ernst
Samovar - Jim Cave
M2 - Roham Shaikhani

Beth Custer - clarinet
Chris Grady - trumpet
Joel Davel - percussion
Diana Strong - accordion
John Schott - guitar
Elzbieta Polak - violin
Lisa Mezzacappa - contrabass

Except the Overture and the Divan song, which also include die „Talltones extended“

Richard Klammer - trumpet and voice
Stefan Gfrerer - contrabass
Primus Sitter - guitar
Emil Kristof - drums
Michael Erian - saxophone / clarinet
Anton Tonč Feinig - electric piano / accordion
Elisabeth Wöhrer - violin

set design: Lynne Rutter, Richie Klammer (austria)
costumes: Laura Hazlett, Bella Ban (austria)

recording engineers USA: Karen Stackpole, Brandon Martinez
recording engineer Austria: Fuzzman
mix: Jay Cloidt

Thanks to Duncan Wold, Mary Forcade, Rob Wilkins, Adolfo Assor, Rüdiger Hentzschel, Josef Oberauer, Sirje A Viise, Paul Dresher Ensemble, The Klagenfurter Ensemble, Gerhard Lehner, Gottfried Lehner, Anthony Anemone, Peter Scotto, Dmitry Sokolenko, Thom Blum, The Oakland East Bay Symphony, Laney College, Dmitry Stroganov, Kyoko Yoshida, Brittany Jarabek, Lisa Prosek, Thom Blum, Kristen McCullough, Laura Hazlett, Kerry Mehling, Theater KOSMOS, Oakland Metro.

Thanks to The Empress for keeping me as her butler.

Supported in part by The National Endowment for the Arts (Opera), Zellerbach Family Foundation, and Theatre Bay Area CA$H.




Erling Wold San Francisco, California

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