At once sensual and existential, this collection of songs-composed across 125 years-meditates on nature and nostalgia, sex and love, the ephemerality of the human spirit, and the eternal, transformative power of art. These song cycles of Edvard Grieg, Claude Debussy, George Crumb, and Robert Spano coalesce into a testament to the limitless potency and fragility of love-both it's resplendent joys and it's tender sorrows. Despite love's transience and riskiness, the album compels us to ruminate on Rilke's witticism that "for one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks...' Each of the cycles presents us with existential questions of life and death, love and loss, but the album is structured in couplets. Debussy and Spano draw upon Ancient Greece, Grieg and Crumb draw upon enchantments of nature, the temporality of love, life, and memory. Claude Debussy's ethereal Chansons de Bilitis (1899) evokes a lusty, Grecian fever dream where the tumescence of love and desire comes to the fore. Robert Spano's Sonnets to Orpheus (2020) lends voice to Rilke's enigmatic eponymous poetry. Spano's setting of the songs-the intimate conversation between piano and soprano-"draws one voice out of two separate strings." Meanwhile, George Crumb's Three Early Songs (1947) emerge as whispered secrets, darkly-hued odes to impermanent nature-night, a flower, and wind. The songs lead us to ponder the difference between the actual and the seeming. Chansons de Bilitis is a sensual, sultry tease in more ways than one. The poetry penned by Pierre Louÿs is a literary forgery. Louÿs, in an introduction to his original poems, claimed that the verses were found in the tomb of a sixth-century (fictional) poetess named Bilitis. She was made out to be a contemporary of Sappho and the poems were written as pastiches in the style of Sapphic erotism. This deception only fueled the work's popularity. And although Debussy only sets three poems, Louÿs wrote 143 poems separated into three volumes that span scenes of pastoral youth (Book I: Bucoliques en Pamphylie), to burgeoning Lesbian-referring both to same-sex attraction and to acts associated with the isle of Lesbos-sexuality (Book II: elegies à Mytilene), and to life as a courtesan at the employ of Aphrodite (Book III: Epigrammes dans l'île de Chypre). In this way, maturation narratives-bildungsroman-form a motif throughout this album. Louÿs was inspired by sex tourism, to be blunt. At the insistence of friend and fellow writer, Andre Gide, Louÿs traveled to Algeria to indulge in sensual exoticism (and orientalism). A young Arab woman, Meriem, had come highly recommended by Gide who wrote of her and her music as something that "stupefied me like an opiate" as it "drowsily and voluptuously benumbed my thoughts." Meriem would become the muse for Chansons, which Louÿs began to draft in Algeria; the dedication of the collection reads "in memory of Meriem ben Atala." The turn of the twentieth century was rife with literary and musical games-anagrams, witticisms, forgeries, and puns. Louÿs even includes a fake scholar in the introduction to his work named G. Heim, meaning "mysterious" in German. And the title seems to me to be a play on words suggesting the feebleness, the feeblemindedness, debilite (de Bilitis) of love, sex, and the trickery of artistry. Exoticism too was par for the fin de siecle course-just think of the Orientalism of Delibes's Lakme (1883), Ravel's Sheherazade (1898/1902), and Debussy's own "Pagodas" from his piano suite, Estampes (1903). Each piece relies on coded musical identifiers that suggest otherness-nonconventional percussion instruments, incessant and layered rhythms, and sonic chinoiserie. For those sonic elements, Louÿs called upon his dear friend, Debussy, to orchestrate music to underscore his poetry. Debussy complained that the turnaround time was too short. Nevertheless, he was hard up and needed the money.