MPR Music Features

James Joyce

Joyce playing the guitar

James Joyce - Zurich, 1915
(Reproduced with the permission of The Poetry/Rare Books Collection, University Libraries, University at Buffalo, The State University of New York)

Performance Bill announcing McCormack/Joyce concert, 1904.

Performance Bill announcing McCormack/Joyce concert, 1904.
(From James Joyce, Oxford University Press)

James Joyce on the £10

James Joyce on the £10

Listen to the James Joyce Segment of Sounds Irish 2003
Listen to an exerpt of "Chamber Music" read by Cyril Cusack
Listen to Joyce read from Finnegan’s Wake
Listen to Tenor John McCormack singing “O Mio Tesoro”

In 1904, James Joyce appeared on a concert program with none other than John McCormack, the legendary Irish tenor. In fact, Joyce’s wife Nora was reportedly disappointed that he didn’t follow a musical career and his father thought he’d make a better singer than a writer.

But music and song is a vital part of Irish culture, and Joyce never lost that musical sense, even after he left Ireland and lived on the continent in Paris, Trieste and Zurich.

Senator David Norris is a lively expert on Joyce’s life and works. He believes that the key to Joyce’s often thorny works is to read them aloud. Listen as he tells Tom Crann about Joyce’s musical tastes, and how “there is music all thru Joyce.”

Senator David Norris Web site
James Joyce Centre

"Strings in the Earth and Air"
(1935; Moderato; From Chamber Music I)
Listen

Strings in the earth and air
 Make music sweet;
Strings by the river where
 The willows meet.

There's music along the river
 For Love wanders there,
Pale flowers on his mantle,
 Dark leaves on his hair.

All softly playing,
 With head to music bent,
And fingers straying
 Upon an instrument.

"In the Dark Pinewood"
(1937; Moderato; From Chamber Music XX)

In the dark pinewood
 I would we lay,
In deep cool shadows
 At noon of day.

How sweet it is to lie there,
 Sweet to kiss,
Where the great pine-forest
 Enaisled is!

Thy kiss descending
 Sweeter were
With the soft tumult
 Of thy hair.

O, unto the pinewood
 At noon of day
Come with me now,
  Sweet love, away.

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