presented by
The Capital Hearings

Saturday, October 23, 2026
8:00 pm
LIVE at 10th & G







Skip to Act 2 (post-intermission)

The Tales We Tell

Ako Ay May Lobo

2016

arr.  Saunder Choi

  • “Ako Ay May Lobo (I Have a Balloon)” is a traditional children’s song from the Tagalog region of the Philippines.  We were charmed by the evocative story these few simple lines tell, and Saunder Choi’s setting, which manages to capture the balloon floating up, up and away and disappearing.

  • Text

    Ako ay may lobo
    Lumipad sa langit
    ‘Di ko na nakita
    Pumutok na pala
    Sayang ang pera ko
    Binili ng lobo
    Sa pagkain sana
    Nabusog pa ako

    Translation

    I have a balloon
    It flew to the sky
    Never saw it again
    Turns out it popped
    My money went to waste
    Buying that balloon
    If I had bought food
    I would be full instead.

Annabel Lee

2026 | World Premiere

Meadow Bridgham 
Winner of our 2026 Young Composers Competition

Heather MacDonald, soloist

  • Edgar Allan Poe’s “Annabel Lee” is a classic American ballad about love enduring beyond the sudden death of a beloved. Published in 1849, the year Poe himself died under mysterious circumstances, the poem is often understood as a reflection of his grief following the death of his wife, Virginia, two years earlier. Poe described the loss as an almost unbearable oscillation between hope and despair, and “Annabel Lee” gives that grief a story—transforming personal loss into a tale of love that death cannot overcome. Meadow’s setting preserves a romantic-era style that brings Poe’s tale of enduring love and loss vividly to life.

  • It was many and many a year ago,
       In a kingdom by the sea,
    That a maiden there lived whom you may know
       By the name of Annabel Lee;
    And this maiden she lived with her every* thought
      Than to love and be loved by me.

    I was a child and she was a child,
       In this kingdom by the sea,
    But we loved with a love that was more than love—
       I and my Annabel Lee—
    With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
       Coveted her and me.

    And this was the reason that, long ago,
       In this kingdom by the sea,
    A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
       My beautiful Annabel Lee;
    So that her highborn kinsmen came
       And bore her away from me,
    To shut her up in a sepulchre
       In this kingdom by the sea.

    The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
       Went envying her and me—
    Yes!—that was the reason (all women know,
       In this kingdom by the sea)
    That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
       Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

    But our love it was stronger by far than the love
       Of those who were older than we—
       Of many far wiser than we—
    And neither the angels in Heaven above
       Nor the demons down under the sea
    Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
       Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

    For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
       Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
       Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
       Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
       In her sepulchre there by the sea—
       In her tomb by the sounding sea.

    *Italicized text changed by the composer

Gesher

2019

Yosef Goldman
arr. Micah Hendler
Micah Hendler, soloist

  • "Gesher" means "bridge" in Hebrew, and this haunting setting by my friend and musical collaborator Yosef Goldman takes its text from a teaching by Rabbi Nachman of Breslov: "The whole world is a very narrow bridge, and the essential thing is not to be afraid at all."

    These words were written centuries ago, yet they speak directly to our present moment. We live in times that feel precarious—politically, socially, morally. The ground beneath us often seems less like solid earth and more like a narrow bridge suspended over deep chasms of extremism, division, and uncertainty. One misstep, we fear, and we could fall.

    Rabbi Nachman's wisdom doesn't deny the danger. He acknowledges that the bridge is narrow—the path forward is treacherous. But his teaching focuses not on the peril below, but on what we must do to cross: we must not let fear paralyze us. We must keep moving forward.

    Goldman's musical setting captures both the vertigo of our precarious position and the quiet courage required to take the next step. The melody wavers and reaches, much like our own faltering faith, yet it persists. It reminds us that faith is not the absence of fear—it's the choice to move forward despite it.

    In singing this together, we acknowledge our shared fear and our shared determination. We are all crossing the same narrow bridge. And perhaps, in recognizing that we cross it together, the bridge feels a little wider, our footing a little more sure.

    - Micah Hendler, tenor

  • כָּל הָעוֹלָם כֻּלּוֹ
    גֶּשֶׁר צַר מְאוֹד
    כָּל הָעוֹלָם הוּא גֶּשֶׁר צַר

    וְהָעִקָּר, וְהָעִקָּר
    לֹא לְפַחֵד כְּלָל
    לֹא לְפַחֵד

    (The whole entire world
    Is a very narrow bridge
    The whole world is a narrow bridge

    The main thing is
    Don't be afraid
    Do not fear)

    As I walk along this very narrow bridge,
    I will not be afraid knowing You are with me.
    As I walk across this very narrow bridge,
    I will not fear knowing You are near.

Canticum

Calamitatis

Maritimae

1997

Jaakko Mäntyjärvi
Regina Dagenhardt and Dileep Srihari, soloists

  • Inspired by a 1994 ferry disaster in the Baltic Sea, Canticum Calamitatis Maritimae (“Song of Maritime Calamity”) tells multiple stories through its texts and music.  The texts are drawn from three sources, including the Catholic requiem mass and a news report about the disaster from the weekly Latin-language Finnish news service, Nuntii Latini. The main body of the work sets Psalm 107, which is about sailors in a storm (“They that go down to the sea in ships”).

    Meanwhile, the music tells the story of the 1994 ferry disaster: a folk melody inspired by the Titanic, the growing urgency of the waves, ripping metal, water rushing in, and even Morse Code inspired by the ship’s distress call.  We hear cries from the people before all is quiet again; in parallel, the Psalm 107 text brings the sailors back into port.

    The Capital Hearings first performed this work in 2015, and we are pleased to share its distinctive approach to storytelling with you once again.

  • Lux aeterna luceat eis, Domine,
    et lux perpetua luceat eis
    Miserere Domine

    Plus octingenti homines vitam
    amiserunt calamitate
    navali in Mari Baltico septentrionali facta.
    Navis traiectoria nomine Estonia,
    cum Tallinno Stockholmiam
    versus navigaret, saeva tempestate
    orta eversa et submersa est.
    In navi circiter mille vectores erant.
    Calamitate Estoniae nongenti decem homines perierunt,
    centum undequadraginta sunt servati
    (Nuntii Latini)

    Qui descendunt mare in navibus
    facientes operationem in aquis multis
    ipsi viderunt opera Domini
    et mirabilia eius in profundo.
    Dixit et stetit spiritus procellae 
    et exaltati sunt fluctus eius;
    ascendunt usque ad caelos
    et descendunt usque ad abyssos.
    Anima eorum in malis tabescebat;
    turbati sunt et moti sunt sicut ebrius
    et omnis sapientia eorum devorata est.
    Et clamaverunt ad Dominum
    cum tribularentur
    et de necessitatibus eorum eduxit eos
    et statuit procellam eius;
    in auram et siluerunt fluctus eius
    et laetati sunt quia siluerunt
    et deduxit eos in protum voluntatis eorum.

    (Psalm 106, 23-30)

    Requiem aeternam

    Translation

    May the eternal light shine upon them,
    O Lord,
    and may perpetual light shine upon them.
    Have mercy, O Lord.

    Over eight hundred people perished
    in a shipwreck in the northern Baltic Sea.
    The car ferry Estonia,
    en route from Tallinn to Stockholm,
    was overturned in a severe storm and sank.
    There were about 1000 passengers on board
    910 people lost their lives
    in the wreck of the Estonia;
    139 were saved.

    (Nuntii Latini)

    They that go down to the sea in ships,
    that do business in great waters;
    These see the works of the Lord,
    and his wonders in the deep.
    For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind,
    which lifteth up the waves thereof.
    They mount up to the heaven,
    they go down again to the depths;
    their soul is melted because of trouble.
    They reel to and fro,
    and stagger like a drunken man,
    and are at their wit’s end.
    Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble,
    and he bringeth them out of their distresses.
    He maketh the storm a calm,
    so that the waves thereof are still.
    Then are they glad because they be quiet;
    so he bringeth them
    unto their desired haven.

    (Psalm 107, 23-30)

    Eternal peace 

Children Will Listen

1987

Stephen Sondheim
arr. Ryan McCarty
Ryan McCarty, soloist

  • Nearly two years ago, I had the joyous privilege of becoming a first-time parent. One of my favorite parts of watching my daughter grow has been reading stories to her and watching her discover the sounds, words, characters, and images that are beginning to shape her view of the world. These experiences inspired me to arrange Sondheim’s “Children Will Listen,” a song about the lasting impact of the stories we tell.


    Near the end of Into the Woods, a show that brings together characters from familiar fairy tales and children’s stories, the song “Children Will Listen” reflects on the ways our words and actions shape the children who come after us. The song is a reminder that stories are more than entertainment: they carry memories, values, warnings, and lessons from one generation to the next. As we tell and retell them, those stories become part of what children carry with them throughout their lives—a connection between the past, the present, and the stories still waiting to be told. - RM

  • Careful the things you say
    Children will listen
    Careful the things you do
    Children will see and learn
    Children may not obey
    But children will listen
    Children will look to you
    For which way to turn
    To learn what to be
    Careful before you say
    "Listen to me"
    Children will listen

    Careful the wish you make
    Wishes are children
    Careful the path they take
    Wishes come true not free
    Careful the spell you cast
    Not just on children
    Sometimes the spell may last
    Past what you can see
    And turn against you
    Careful the tale you tell
    That is the spell
    Children will listen

    How can you say to a child who's in flight
    Don't slip away and I won't hold so tight?
    What can you say that no matter how slight
    Won't be misunderstood?
    What do you leave to your child when you're dead?
    Only whatever you put in their head
    Things that your mother and father had said
    Which were left to them too

    Careful the things you say
    Children will listen
    Careful you do it too
    Children will see and learn
    Guide them but step away
    Children will listen
    Tamper with what is true
    And children will turn
    If just to be free
    Careful before you say
    "Listen to me"
    Children will listen
    Children will listen
    Children will listen

Galileo

1992

Lyrics and music by Emily Saliers of The Indigo Girls
arr. Tom Anderson
Lyndsey Gore and Andrew Ross, soloists

  • Long-time audience members will know this Caps powerhouse arrangement, featured on our second album, When the Night is New. Conversations about reincarnation led Emily Saliers to write the Indigo Girls’ first top-ten hit.  Tackling a heavy subject in a lighthearted way was mixed with serious thoughts; she felt her lack of perfection ensured reincarnation and that the world would not end in her own lifetime.  Galileo’s life stood as a pinnacle example of seeking truth, and Saliers would later call this song “an ongoing critique of the living church in music.”


    This arrangement incorporates Tui Sunt Caeli, an Old Testament text reflecting the mindset Galileo faced two millennia after its writing. In bringing together these stories—from ancient scripture, to Galileo’s life, to Saliers’ own reflections—the arrangement highlights how storytelling allows ideas and questions to travel across generations, taking on new meaning each time they are retold.

  • Tui sunt caeli, et tua est terra:
    orbem terrarum, et plenitudinem
    eius tu fundasti.

    (Thine are the heavens, and thine is the Earth:
    the world and the fullness thereof
    have been founded by thee.)

    Galileo's head was on the block
    The crime was lookin' up the truth
    And as the bombshells of my daily fears explode
    I try to trace them to my youth

    And then you had to bring up reincarnation 
    Over a couple of beers the other night
    And now I'm serving time for mistakes 
    Made by another in another lifetime

    How long 'til my soul gets it right 
    Can any human being ever reach that kind of light
    I call on the resting soul of Galileo
    King of night vision king of insight
    And then I think about my fear of motion
    Which I never could explain
    Some other fool across the ocean years ago
    Must have crashed his little airplane

    I'm not making a joke
    You know me I take everything so seriously
    If we wait for the time 'til all souls get it right
    Then at least I know there'll be no nuclear annihilation in my lifetime 
    I'm still not right

    I offer thanks to those before me
    That's all I've got to say
    'Cause maybe you squandered big bucks in your lifetime
    Now I have to pay

    But then again it feels like some sort of inspiration
    To let the next life off the hook
    Or she'll say look what I had to overcome from my last life
    I think I'll write a book

    How long 'til my soul gets it right
    Can any human being ever reach the highest light
    Except for Galileo, God rest his soul
    King of night vision, king of insight

Nothing Changes

2019

Anaïs Mitchell
Regina Dagenhardt, Rachel Gonsenhauser, and Lyndsey Gore, chamber ensemble

  • Anaïs Mitchell’s “Hadestown” intertwines the Greek myths of Orpheus and Eurydice and Hades and Persephone in a 1920s-era setting. In this story, the Fates serve as a trio of omniscient figures, acting as narrators and embodying the internal voices of doubt for mortal and immortal characters alike. Left with no food or shelter, Eurydice is persuaded by Hades to travel to the underworld, bidding her lover Orpheus goodbye. Orpheus arrives in Hadestown to take Eurydice home, but she has already “signed her life away” to Hades. In this song, the Fates mock Orpheus’s foolish mortal attempts to save Eurydice. The Fates say, “Nothing Changes,” while Orpheus—and all of us—still hope that maybe it will turn out well this time.

  • Why the struggle, why the strain?
    Why make trouble? Why make scenes?
    Why go against the grain?
    Why swim upstream?

    It ain’t, it ain’t, it ain’t no use
    You’re bound, you’re bound, you’re bound to lose
    What’s done, what’s done, what’s done is done
    That’s the way the river runs

    So why get wet? Why break a sweat?
    Why waste your precious breath?
    Why beat your handsome brow?Nothing changes
    Nothing changes
    Nothing changes anyhow

Intermission

Please feel free to enjoy a few minutes outside while we reset for Act 2

On With The Show!

SPECIAL THANKS

This project was supported by the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities.